Guy Boutin's Motorcycle Touring and Travel Pages

Adventures in Sport Touring with the Honda ST 1100, 1300 and the BMW 1200RT

Exploring North America...One Road at a Time

Day 7
October 20th, 2002
Blue Ridge Motorcycle Campground
Cruso, North Carolina

At 4am I hear STs starting up from the direction of the cabins.  Uncle Phil and Mark were indeed getting a early start.  I pulled my sleeping bag up and went back to sleep.  "Dang, they must really need to be somewhere this morning."

Two hours later, I was crawling out of my tent, to a cloudy, cool, and rainy morning.  It was dismal.  Same as last year.

Packing went smoothly, I wanted to finish in case it started raining.  Maxpower, walked over and wished me a good ride home.  

The Black Knight, was running 30 minutes ahead of me.  We spoke a few minutes, and said our good byes.  A few seconds later I saw him through the trees on 276 heading back to New Hampshire.  He was facing a long ride on a tough weather day, when he's not wet he's going to be cold.  I might get wet where I'm going, but it least it won't be cold. 

Ron Epperly was still in his tent asleep when I finished packing.  I will catch him on the BBS.  That joker hates mornings as much me.

I was looking around for Peter Menard, then I remembered he rode out yesterday.  In true Long Rider form, he rode down from State College just to hang out with the brothers for a night, and eat steak at the Sagebrush.

My brother riders were all dispersing to different areas of the country.  Each of us alone, but sharing the dangers of crazed ass cars, slippery road surfaces, and unpredictable weather.  All of us know the inherent dangers of riding, and we all know the intrinsic joy it brings.  That is why they are my brother riders, each of us understands the other, and we accept all those things.

I pulled out of the campground right on time, and was on 276 heading to Waynesville by 7am.  I wanted to get home at a decent hour.  

The sky was dark, and the clouds so thick with water, they looked like water balloons.  I never thought I would make it across the valley without getting wet, but I did.

       The run across the valley, to Waynesville.  

In Waynesville I jumped over to US 74.  Fifteen miles later, it began to rain.  It was chilly.  Will it ever be warm again?

I am following the same routes I used on the last 2 rides home from Cruso.

The rain is steady as I ride the Appalachian Expressway.  Traffic is on the light side.

The expressway ends, and the road follows the Nantahala River Gorge.  Rafters come here to enjoy the white water, their busses also bottle neck traffic in both directions for 20 miles.  I've always hated this 20 miles, and today is no different.

Clearing the congestion, I ride to Spur 60, and drop into Georgia.  The rain has stopped, and now that I'm out of the mountains, the temp warms.

The ride is very routine along routes US 76, SR 2, and SR 5. These routes steadily work me east and south. The morning is moving quickly, so I skip the first morning break.

I turn for a brief ride west on SR 53.  Under most circumstances this would be a curvy road, but having just left East Tennessee and Western North Carolina, its pretty routine.

At Fairmont I pick up SR 61 south.

A stream of north bound cars out of the Atlanta area, tell me leaf peeping season is just starting.

I ride all the way to Cartersville, before I take my first break.  After three hours and 150 miles. 

I stopped for lunch at a Sonic.  I had a woeful chili dog, and then called home.

"yes, I'm schedule"

"good, see ya soon"

I leave Cartersville on SR 61 south, remembering from last year the turn off for the route is not marked, you just have to know where it is.

My fuel light comes on in the same spot as last year.  One thing I've come to love about my bike is its consistency.

I over take several slow moving cages as I keep moving south in the now warm and humid atmosphere.  Yes, I'm close to home.

The route brings me into Carrolton and I go to US  27 south for final approach to I-85.  Carrolton is a busy college town on this day.

A min van makes a left hand turn in front of me, I squeeze the brakes and no harm done.  I learned long ago NOT to speed in urban areas.  She never saw me, despite my yellow helmet and PIAA lights blazing.

I make it into LaGrange, and find a Shell station to fill up the famished ST.  She takes in almost 7 gallons.  I pick out a drink and popcorn and sit outside.  I called my son-

"so, where ya at?"

"LaGrange, Ga."

"oh yeah? See that Ryan's Steakhouse down the road?"

"yeah, what about it?"

"I ate there half a dozen times last baseball season.  We play several schools from that area, and Coach always fed us at that Ryans.  We tried to get him to take us somewhere else, but he never would.  It was like the bus could only go one way."

"well, some folks are creatures of habit"

"yeah, but if you ever try to take me to a Ryan's I'm jumpin out and yelling child abuse"

            Final gas stop, LaGrange, Georgia

Full of gas, I joined the flow on I-85 south and took off for home, to be bring this cold, thought provoking trip to an end.

I-85 is a FAST interstate.  I think they've given up trying to enforce the 70 mph speed limit.  Every one was flying along at 90 or better.  I thought I was in Nevada.

I cross the Chattahoochee back into Alabama a few minutes after 2pm.  It was warm and very muggy, and the sky was dark. 

I begin to see many north bound Gold Wings.  Did they have a rally this way?

 I notice several riders with rain gear on and lots of cages with headlights burning, so get ready for the inevitable. 

The rain hits near Auburn.  Hard.  A big time downpour.  Funny, a storm such as this is much less intimidating when close to home.

I spied several Gold Wings crammed under a overpass trying to stay dry.  I guess they had no rain gear.

The rain abates and I start to dry out.  I'm in the last 60 miles.  I think about baseball and this being the last hurrah.  Somehow, that does not bother me.  I remember the apprehension I faced about my last year of coaching.  I recall thinking how bad I was going to miss it.  After my last game, I lingered around the baseball field long after everyone had left for home.  Ironically, I spent 30 minutes on the dugout bench, with one our most hated rival coaches.

The next spring rolled around, and all I had to do was show up at the game, and cheer my son.  It felt good to just enjoy the game without all the pressure of being the coach.  I'm glad I coached all those years, both football and baseball, I put a lot into it, but I got a lot back, but don't think I ever want to do it again.  

I think the same will hold true when this final season is over.  I will find others things to keep me occupied in the spring.  What those things will be I have no idea.  Perhaps I try to pick up my running and enter a few races, something I gave up when Chris was 5.

Riding along, I come to peace with baseball.  It will be over, and I will move on to other stuff, just as I did when I left coaching, as I will do in 24 months when I leave the fire department.  Close a chapter, to begin another.  Not the end, but the beginning of a new life segment. 

With all that sorted out, I enter East Montgomery in a steady rain.  I am content, so it is only fitting I return to a place where I was discontent.  The Alaga Whitfield Pickle and Food Plant.  For many miles of this tour, I thought about those days.  Hot, sweltering summers and cold ass winters.  Going about my daily routine with foreboding emotions.  Sitting on barrels in the hot August sun, dreaming of what it must be like to a Long Rider.  To go places and see things, without a care in the world.  How far away, 25 years seemed at that time.  I looked at my foreman, 40 years at this place, with at least 10 more to go to reach a retirement check.  I looked at his weathered, taunt face and knew this could NOT be me.  

I turn north on I-65 in the road spray, and exit at the Northern By Pass.  I pull in the clutch and coast down the ramp onto North Court Street and ride the few blocks to the plant.  

Today is Sunday and the plant is closed. I idled along the fence looking in.  Alaga shut down their pickle operation, not long after I left, and now concentrate on syrup and contracting other company canning operations.

I park the ST at the gate and think about those days.  Perhaps, I feel this way because I am close to retiring and leaving work for good.  I  use to ask myself day after day," is there something better then this?"  As I toiled among the pickle barrels.  Now I can say, "yes there is."  I flash back to my last work day at this place, and will never forgot the feeling of locking that gate for the last time. 

                        Dreams do come true.

I get back on my bike and leave.  Making the 15 mile commute the same way I use to when I worked here.  It has been a great trip despite the cold, and sometimes wet weather.  What a good feeling it was to leave that plant knowing what's like to be a Long Rider.

Yes, you have to have bad times to appreciate the good.

I reaffirm a long held notion, the best way to think and enjoy ones company, is with a bike on a long trip. 

I take the 179 exit, and make the last few miles home.  The rain stops as I enter east Prattville.  

Down Main Street, up North Memorial Drive to 6th Street, and into my neighborhood.  I pull in my garage at 3:10pm, covering 422 miles for the day, and 3,311 miles for the trip. 

I took a bath then enjoyed being home for the next few hours.  I leave my bags on the ST for now. 

That night we went to Longhorns, then to see "Sweet Home Alabama," an appropriate title if ever there was one.  It felt good to be home.

It was another great ride.

Epilogue

I returned to work the very next day.  I uncharacteristically did not have a few wind down days.

A long rainy spell sit in, and when the weather WAS good I was out riding, so haven't washed the grime from the ST yet.

As usual the bike did not burn one drop of oil, and is still running perfectly after 68,000 miles.

Both tires will need replacing in another 2-3k.

I will settle down for a few months.  I don't see how I can ride more next year then I have this year.  I still can't believe I was able to pull off all those trips I listed on the Future Trips page.

I plan to spend the next few months upgrading my equipment, and getting the valves adjusted on the ST.  I'm thinking about new camping gear for next year, and of course a DVD player.  I have one picked out.

I was thinking about Alaska next year, but changed my mind.  I will do the west coast again, and then attend the ST BBS rally in Wawa, Ontario.  I will know something more definite later.  Check back to the Future Trips page in Jan.

Ride safe brothers and sisters