The Road Home

I managed to hit the road at about 6:30 Thursday morning. The first order of business was to wipe the bike down to keep from getting soaked just from the dew on it. I made my way toward Florida using those good ol' north/south, east/west Baldwin County roads. My goal was to make it to Anderson, South Carolina by dark. The early start was a plus and other than a couple of spots with some early morning fog, it was a good start to a day of riding where I planned to avoid the interstates as much as possible.

I ultimately had to hit I-10 for part of my ride. This included crossing Escambia Bay on the I-10 bridge. It brought back memories of the time Jerry and I crossed this stretch of road shortly after Hurricane Ivan had battered the area in 2004. The I-10 bridge collapsed in a few places and was replaced with temporary steel-panel spans that made the bikes really squirrely. They shifted and slid from side-to-side. The speed limit was set at 25 mph, so you rode along at a slow speed with the bike bobbing and weaving underneath you and, of course, at least one or two cars in a hurry who basically just wanted to run your ass over. But, we made it across. Ah, good times!

I rode along on I-10 for about 65 miles to my exit for some back roads across the Florida panhandle and into southeast Alabama. My plan was to stop for some breakfast at a greasy spoon in some small town, but I soon discovered that my route really didn't include passing through any actual towns. I made my way to CR-2 and used it and CR-2A to move across Florida. This route got me to AL-27 and led me into the town of Geneva. By this point it was late in the morning and I was going to lose an hour when I crossed into Georgia, so I decided to skip breakfast and stop for lunch in Blakely, Georgia.

I passed through Dothan, Alabama and over the Chattahoochee River and into Georgia. In a split second it was an hour later as I passed from the Central Time Zone into the Eastern Time Zone. I spent my middle school years in Blakely, Georgia, so that was my target for lunch. Unfortunately, Blakely made the news recently as the home to the Peanut Corporation of America peanut processing plant where salmonella was discovered. Blakely is the county seat for Early County.

Early County Courthouse and Square in Blakely

Just around the corner from the courthouse on Main Street is Smitty's Grill. Smitty's Grill has been in this location for more than 60 years. It was 11:30 and I had been on the road for 4 hours (remember I lost an hour when I crossed into Georgia), so lunch seemed like the best idea of the day. I got lucky with a empty parking spot right in front of Smitty's and had a great country meal consisting of a grilled pork chop, butter beans, black-eyed peas, corn nuggets and jalapeno corn bread. Oh man was that a good meal! If you ever find yourself in Blakely, I highly recommend a meal at Smitty's. The staff was friendly and worked hard to make sure I felt right at home even though I was a stranger passing through.

Smitty's Grill on Main Street in Blakely

After my terrific lunch, I hopped back on the bike and headed for my next destination. I have always wanted to visit Andersonville, Georgia. Andersonville was home to a prisoner of war stockade during the Civil War. Union POWs were held in some pretty severe conditions at Andersonville. The prison was in existence for 14 months and more than 45,000 Union soldiers were confined at the prison. Of these, almost 13,000 died from disease, poor sanitation, malnutrition, overcrowding, and exposure to the elements. After being tried by a U.S. military court and convicted of war crimes, the prison's commander, Captain Henry Wirz, was hanged in November 1865 for "impairing the health and destroying the lives of prisoners."

The South Gate of the Andersonville Stockade

The remainder of the day was spent trying to outrun the sun and get to Anderson, South Carolina before nightfall. I had to take a short ride on I-75 for about 35 miles to Forsyth, Georgia where I turned onto GA-83 and took it into Madison where I picked up US-129. For most of the ride along US-129 I kept getting hit by pieces of something being kicked up by the cars around me. It was smacking me in the face on a regular basis and beginning to piss me off. I couldn't figure out exactly what it was because it wasn't the usual road grime or dust that can come up from time to time. This was constant and making the trip more uncomfortable than it should have been. This continued on US-129 all the way to Athens (home of the Georgia Bulldogs); about 30 miles.

It wasn't until I moved onto US-29 north that I figured out what was going on. A few miles outside of Athens traffic backed up behind a hay spraying truck. For those of you that don't know, a hay spraying truck is this large, 10-wheel, flat-bed truck stacked with 75 pound hay bales. The hay bales are fed into this large cutter that shreds the hay into tiny pieces and then sprays these pieces out of a nozzle under high pressure.

As best I can tell this serves two purposes, 1) to blow shit all over unsuspecting motorcyclists and 2) to control/prevent erosion on the side of the road. I don't know how well it accomplishes number 2, but it does one damn magnificent job at number 1. At one point, I swear the guy manning the nozzle was spraying it directly at me for the fun of it. Once I got past this asshole, things smoothed out to be a much more pleasant ride.

The remaining run to I-85 took me through a little town called Shady Dale. A few miles north of Shady Dale I passed some acreage that was for sale that would make a great site for a spring or fall motorcycle rally (too damn hot in summer and nobody wants to ride in the winter. Oops, wait a minute. Didn't I just do a cross country ride in the winter?). The roads in the area meandered through the Georgia hills and the site had large open spaces for tents and RVs. I'll have to keep this in mind when I win the lottery. I might just have to have the Saddle Tramp Ball here one day and invite all my biker friends to a party.

I rolled into Anderson about 7PM. It was already dark, but the last 25 miles was on I-85, so I watched the sun set in my rear view mirrors. That left me with an 11.5 hour day in the saddle and 535 miles under my belt and only about 125 miles on the interstates. Ah, a much better ride than a 700 mile day via the interstate. The only problem was the promise of rain the following day. Oh well, dinner at Hooters and a good night's sleep was all I could do.

I woke up early on Friday with the intent of getting on the road and trying my best to outrun the rain. Based on what I was seeing on The Weather Channel, it was best to move east as much as possible and wait to turn north as long as I could. I jumped back on I-85 and headed northeast toward Charlotte, North Carolina. I didn't want to turn north and I needed to make time, so interstates it was. This sucks already and it wasn't even raining yet.

This meant 125 miles on I-85 before turning north on US-321. US-321 is basically an interstate although it hasn't been formally tagged as one. It's a multi-lane, limited access highway that runs from Gastonia, North Carolina to Hickory. I stopped for breakfast at the Coffee House in Hickory. By the time I hit the road again, I was getting my first sprinkles of rain. That's my own fault for turning north. I probably should have stayed with I-85 longer, but too late now.

So, I headed east on I-40 to see if I could avoid the rain a little longer. It worked. I passed out of Hickory and left the sprinkles behind too. As I neared Statesville, I noticed a sign for a historic Fort Dobbs. I had no idea what Fort Dobbs was, but I needed gas and figured, "What the hell." I filled up the bike and followed the signs to Fort Dobbs.

Turns out Fort Dobbs was an outpost fort during the French and Indian War (1754-1763) or the Seven Years War. Of course the old fort had long ago rotted and fallen apart, but the site is a North Carolina Historic Site and the only one dedicated to this time period. A reenactor is onsite to provide a interpretive tour of the grounds and provide you with a sense of what the fort looked like and how life might have been back then. I made a quick stop and eavesdropped on the spiel the interpretive guide was giving an couple of other visitors.

The grounds at Fort Dobbs

From Fort Dobbs, I worked my way east and north and picked up I-77 and headed due north. I ultimately had to go north and cross the Blue Ridge Mountains to get to Harrisonburg, Virginia where I was meeting Renee and Jake. It was either cross the mountains on I-77 or pass over on a lesser road. Given the odds were good that I would be crossing in the rain, I decided to use I-77 as the route.

I hit the rain just west of Winston-Salem, North Carolina, where I-77 passed over US-421. It rained heavily for the next 68 miles. I was pretty dry with the exception of where my chaps didn't cover me. In other words, I basically looked like I had wet my pants and sat in it for a while. Oh well, that's part of the game when it comes to riding cross country. When it rains, you typically get wet.

The worst part of the ride was crossing over the mountains on I-77. I assume this is normally a scenic and beautiful ride, but in the rain, it was a real pain in the ass. This seems to be a favorite route for truckers and between the rain and the spray from the trucks, visibility was very poor. To make matters worse, the clouds had descending on the mountain and I couldn't see shit. I wasn't sure whether I was going to ride over the side of the mountain or get run over by a FedEx truck. Either way, it was about 10 miles of really tense riding that seems to just wear you out. I made the decision to get the hell off that road first chance I got once I got through the pass.

My first opportunity was at US-221 where I exited and drove through Hillsville, Virginia. US-221 ran along the west side of the Blue Ridge Mountains and was a great road, even though it was still raining. The ride took on a much more relaxed pace on US-221. Or at least it seemed that way.

I entered a little crossroads called Dugspur. As I backed off the throttle the bike began to spit and sputter and lurch and buck. Shit, what is this all about!? I pulled off at the little grocery store on the corner (the only place in Dugspur) and took a look at the bike. The plug wires seemed to be ok and everything looked in order. I assumed something must have gotten wet and maybe I had an electronic issue. I decided to let the bike sit for a while and see if it would dry out.

After about 30 minutes, the bike fired back up without a problem and I decided to move on down the road. Less than a mile later the bike was running like shit again. I limped it down the road to a little town called Willis. About a mile out of Willis the bike was running even worse and I decided going any further could do more damage. I was 50 miles south of Roanoke and no where near a Harley dealer, so it was time to try out my Harley Owners Group (HOG) membership and see how the roadside service works.

I called HOG and they arranged a tow truck to meet me in Willis. It took the tow truck about 30 minutes to get to me, but get this. About 10 minutes after I confirmed the pickup with HOG, it stopped raining. Shit, shit, shit. It would have been fun to ride down US-221 without the rain. David showed up with his tow truck and got me loaded up. We headed for the nearest Harley dealer in Christiansburg; 32 miles away. On the upside, David showed me some great back roads between Willis and Christiansburg. I'll have to remember those if I ever get back down that way.

The service department at New River Valley Harley-Davidson made my bike a priority. They were able to see the bike running shitty, which was a relief. I figured it'd be one of those incidents where it runs like shit when I'm on it and fine when it was hooked up to the diagnostic machines. The diagnostics indicated two different faults. They unhooked a sensor on the crankshaft and pulled the fuel line and reconnected it. This seemed to clear the faults, but there wasn't really any explanation for what had occurred. They did a test ride on the bike, repeated the whole process and within a couple of hours, had me back on the bike. Still with no clear indication on what had happened.

I headed up I-81 to Harrisonburg. I stopped for gas in Roanoke and had another weird experience where the bike was idling at about 2500 rpm. It settled down as quickly as it stuck, so I'm not sure what the hell caused that. I jumped back on the bike after fueling and hauled ass up I-81 with the flow of the fastest traffic. I made it the 100 miles to Harrisonburg in about an hour and 15 minutes. But, when I exited the interstate and pulled in the clutch, the bike simply died. I coasted to a stop on the shoulder of the exit ramp. The bike re-fired without a problem and I was able to ride on to the hotel without any more incidents. I secured the bike in the parking lot and waited for Renee and Jake to show up. Needless to say, I wasn't getting a warm fuzzy about the final 100 miles I'd have to ride the next day to get home. The second day on the road covered 394 miles, not counting the 32 miles via tow truck from Willis to Christiansburg.

Jake had tryouts for All-State Band the next day at James Madison University, so I was glad to be off the road for a few hours and happy to get to see Renee and Jake after being gone for a week. We got up Saturday morning and took Jake to his tryout location. The weather forecast was not looking good for Saturday. They were reporting more rain and possible snow showers on Saturday afternoon, so Renee and I decided I should get on the road sooner rather than later.

I decided to take the bike to Grove's Harley-Davidson in Winchester, Virginia. That's where I bought the bike and I wanted to get it checked again since it had done a couple of weird things the night before. The 75 miles to Winchester was uneventful and I managed to fall in with the fastest moving traffic again. That got me to Winchester around 9:30 and the service department there jumped right on the bike again. I'll take a minute to say that I'm not a big fan of getting my bike serviced at the dealerships. But, both New River Valley and Grove's gave me priority treatment and didn't hesitate to throw my bike up on the lift and get me on the road as soon as possible.

Grove's ran diagnostics and didn't find anything out of the ordinary. I had them perform a 10,000 mile service on the bike since I had rolled over the 10K mark a few hundred miles before. About 3 hours later, I was back on the road and headed for the last 45 miles to home. The final leg was without incident and the bike seemed to be running great. I still don't know exactly what went wrong down in southern Virginia, but whatever it was, it seems to be gone for now at least. So, the last leg of the ride was 114 miles giving me a 3 day total of 1043 miles.

I made it home at about 1:30 Saturday afternoon. It did rain later that day, but it was after I was snug and safe at home. By Sunday night we were getting the winter storm that was working its way up the east coast. We woke up Monday morning to a winter wonderland.

The Riddle homestead Monday morning after Jake and I shoveled the drive

Another Quick Post and Then Back on the Road

Here are the pics from our little Mardi Gras get together. From left to right that's Trey (Wheatie's son), Wheatie, Rose, Tricia and Kim. I could only get parts of the table, so I had to take 3 shots to get everyone in.



The other end of the table with Kim, Johnny, Julie, Kevin's wife (Dammit, whose name I forget. I gotta quit doin' that. By the way, Wheatie's husband is Rob, not even close to Jeff), Kevin, Tina and Steve.



Danny and Gordon with Danny still asking the question out loud, "How did I get so lucky?"



My newest best buddy in Foley, little Braelyn. We've been hanging out during the day and havin' some fun.

The river at Blakeley State Park where I visited this afternoon.

And now for some very important announcements. I'm sure they think I forgot, but a large number of the people in the above photos have indicated in no uncertain terms that they are going to rent an RV and travel to Virginia for my son's wedding reception/party in July. So, to set the record straight the list of wedding crashers includes, Steve (ringleader), Tina (ringleader's better half who at this moment is thinking, "What has he done now?"), Julie (who was at the other end of the table and when asked, "Julie, you goin' with us?", simply replied, "Sure", not realizing what the others at the table were dragging her into), Kim (who may have started all of this when she announced she had a date July 4th at the WWII Soldiers Home in Virginia. Kim, I hope someone told that WWII soldiers are very, very old!?), Tricia (who quickly threw her husband Matt under the proverbial bus by assuring us all that "Matt's in!"), Rose (who quietly seemed to stir things up and then sit back and watch), Wheatie (who watched her years of being a good mom go down the drain by allowing Trey to meet her high school friends), Gordon (who, just as in high school, is good to go anytime there's a party), and Danny (who thought we were talking about going to Dr. Wong's for fried wontons). So, there you go my friends. See you in Virginia in July. And don't worry, I have plenty of room for you to park your RV. Steve, you can even provide the music for the party. Renee was looking for some music options.

Last announcement is I'm back on the road tomorrow, but instead of Daytona, I'm heading back to Virginia. Duty calls and all that. Oh well, maybe I can get down there for Biketoberfest or something. Still, I hope to have a good ride back and I'll report from the road tomorrow night.

See you on the road to nowhere.

Happy Mardi Gras

I may have mentioned this, but I didn't realize it was Mardi Gras when I began planning this trip. I was focused on it being my mom's birthday this week and that Daytona Beach was the following week, so Mardi Gras was a surprise. Given my aversion to crowded places, I didn't partake in the usual Mardi Gras activities like the parades, but it was nice to gather a small crowd at Wings and have our own little Mardi Gras get together. That's what we did last night.

The usual suspects were there along with a couple of new faces to catch up with. But, before I get too far and forget, here's the joke of the night from Steve: I got a tattoo that says "OK". If I get excited it says, "OKLAHOMA". If I get really, really excited it says, "VISIT OKLAHOMA CITY".

Renee will be thrilled to know that I had just explained to someone that she grew up in Oklahoma when Steve entertained us with that jewel. The best part is that sweet, innocent Kim actually got the joke.

We had another good night of catching up, reminiscing, and laughing a lot. I'll post the pictures in a future blog, but I haven't had time to offload them from the camera yet.

I had lunch with Randy in Orange Beach and got a chance to see him and find out what he's been up to. He was doing well and has a son that's 20 and a daughter who's 13. He's gearing up for those teenage daughter years I've heard stories about. I had all boys, so we avoided the teenage daughter stint. Randy agreed to a picture, but by the time I got the camera out and ready to go, several of his co-workers were in the parking lot. I couldn't possibly ask Randy to pose out in the parking lot with is co-workers looking on. He'd never hear the end of that, so I just put the camera away and we agreed the picture would have to wait until some other time. Still, it was good to see him. I'm happy to report he is alive and well in south Baldwin County.

I spent yesterday morning trying to get some work done on a couple of proposals we are doing. Starbucks came through with the highspeed Internet access, so I was much more productive there. Unfortunately, I need to get back to help get them completed, so the run to Daytona is out. I'm busy plotting a route back to Virginia that can avoid interstates, but still get me there in a couple of days. It looks like rain is likely on Friday, so that'll make that day a fun ride. I'll worry about that on Friday though.

After lunch with Randy, I took a ride through Baldwin County on my way to Mobile. If you've ever driven in south Baldwin County you know the county roads basically run north-south and east-west. So, it's practically impossible to get lost. If you have a general idea of which way you want to go, you can simply make a turn here and there and bodda, bing, bodda, boom, you're there.

I arrived in Mobile early so took advantage of the Hooters wifi to get some more work done. We got one proposal ready for submission and I made some progress on the second one. Not enough to allow me to go to Daytona, but some. I knocked out a couple of more items this morning. Unfortunately, I won't be able to work on it at all tomorrow or Friday since I'll be riding. Next week will be very busy.

I'm going to visit Blakeley State Park this afternoon. It's the site of the last major battle of the civil war, so I'm going to get some pictures and further my education (see kids, Uncle Chuck can have fun and be educational all at once). I'll try to get the pictures and a better blog posted tonight. Until then...

Day Two - Atlanta to Mobile

Sorry for being 24 hours behind on the blog, but I am working around a really slow connection in Foley, so I had to wait until I could get some work done before I could play. This should catch you up with events to date.

Let me start with today. I spent most of today on the phone with work and trying to make the best of a painfully slow internet connection. Tomorrow morning I'll get up and find the local Starbucks. I'll be wired on coffee, but at least I'll have a high speed connection.

It was my mom's birthday, so I spent the day here with her and we made it out for a good seafood dinner this evening. All in all a nice day. I'm glad I made the trip down to see her and I think she appreciated it.

Now, let me take you back to Saturday night and bring you forward.

Saturday night I decided to bypass my planned stay at the Motel 6 in Roswell and get a little further down the road. Mainly, my goal was to get out of Atlanta and shorten the ride to Birmingham on Sunday morning. I'm glad I did since 30 degrees in Georgia felt about as cold as 16 degrees in Virginia had the day before.

My goal was to get to Alabama before stopping. That meant a 50 mile first leg in the cold. The sun wasn't up yet and while it was 10 to 15 degrees warmer, it didn't feel like it. I made the 50-plus mile ride to exit 205 in Alabama. I stopped at the BP station there to fill up, grab a cup of coffee and see if I could get the feeling back in my fingertips.

As I was standing at the gas pump I felt a sudden lurch and looked up to see my soul hovering over me with hand on hip and a finger pointed my way. "I will get back in that decrepit carcass you call a body when you get somewhere warm!" and with a snap and a "talk to the hand", poof, it was gone. Great, now I have to ride the rest of the day soulless. As if it wasn't cold enough in the first place.

I entered the station and made my way to the coffee pots. Apparently, the exit 205 BP station is the gathering place for the locals because there were 3 or 4 patrons hanging out in the place. I struck up a conversation with one of the locals who used to ride Gold Wings. He had visited Panama City Beach for Thunder on the Beach a couple of times, but hadn't managed to work in a Daytona trip. We talked about bikes and places to ride until I finished my coffee. It was time to get back on the bike and get on to B'ham.

The route this morning was all interstate from Atlanta to B'ham. I-20 to be exact. It wasn't exciting, but it did take me right by Talladega Speedway. I had intended to veer off and go into town to get a shot of the Vulcan statue, but I missed the exit and decided to cruise on over to Hoover to meet Glyn.

I can remember as a kid always pestering my dad anytime we drove through B'ham to go by the Vulcan so I could see it. Vulcan was the Roman god of the Forge and B'ham is an iron and steel city. So, in 1904 the city dedicated the Vulcan statue at the St. Louis World's Fair. In the 1960's the statue was modified to have Vulcan hold a cone-shaped, lighted beacon. This signal glowed green on days no one was killed in an auto accident and red on days when there was a fatality as a reminder to Alabamans to drive carefully. For some reason, this always fascinated me as a kid.

I got into Hoover ahead of schedule and Glyn graciously met me earlier than planned. We haven't seem each other in a little more than 30 years, so it was great to find out he's doing well with a great family. Glyn was off to a swim meet for his daughter Alex, so we spent about 45 minutes chatting and had a nice visit. I pulled out of Hoover really glad that I had the chance to see Glyn after all these years.

After leaving Hoover I headed west out of B'ham so I could catch some backroads. All interstate up to this point was getting to me and I needed to find some peace and quiet on the country roads of sweet home Alabama.

I took Al-5 south off of I-20 about 30 miles west of B'ham. This was more like it. AL-5 ran through the hills and farmland and was a welcomed relief after all that time on interstates. One thing I noticed in abundance while cruising down 5 was the enormous number and size of the ant hills along the road and in the pastures. Some stuck as much as 2 feet above the grass. I'm sure my feet and hands got eaten up by them as a kid, running around barefoot. No wonder I hate ants so much.

Al-5 ran south all the way to Thomasville where it runs into US-43. By the time I hit Thomasville, I was getting hungry so I decided to stop at KFC. I walked into the store and was greeted with that sweet south Alabama drawl. The remaining conversation was simple.

"Y'all got gizzards?", I asked.

"Yep. Regular or large?", was the reply.

"Large", said I.

"Y'all wanna make it a meal?", she coaxed.

"Sure, why not."

"What 2 sides y'all want?" (decisions, decisions)

"Cole slaw and macaroni and cheese.", I said without hesitation.

Mm, mm, mm. Fried gizzards. You can't get those at every KFC, but their a staple in the Deep South. I love gizzards. Can't stand livers, but I can eat a batch of gizzards. Just don't tell Renee I sneaked a gizzard meal while I was on the road.

The ride down US-43 to Mobile was uneventful. I got into town earlier than planned so killed a little time at Hooters and made some notes about the ride so far that day. After about an hour, I headed for The River Shack and reunion session number 3.

I can't speak for everyone, but as usual, I had a great time seeing some of the old gang. Below is a series of pictures from the crew last night, but before I forget, if you ever go to The River Shack be sure and ask for Holly. She put up with us last night with separate checks and a general pain in the butt. But, she stayed friendly and gave us terrific service. Always ask for Holly and TIP GOOD.

My new buddy Holly and me.

Below is the The River Shack BC Rain Crew and a few family members by marriage who got dragged to this function.

Alan and Steve

Danny and Gordon

Gina and Tina

Julie













Kenny and Joyce (soon to be grandparents)


















Matt and Tricia (already grandparents)














Wheatie and her husband, whose (I am ashamed to admit) name I couldn't recall tonight. My apologies. I think it was Jeff?

The Reunion Ride - Day One

I've dubbed this ride "The Reunion Ride". It seems like the more I exchanged emails with my friends from high school the more I found I could lay out a route that would be fun and allow me to see old friends along the way. I haven't seen many of them for 20-plus years (20-plus sounds better than 30 years, right?). So, with that in mind the ride starting taking shape.

"It's 16 degrees.", Renee announced to me this morning as I was standing in the garage getting geared up and ready to head out on Day One of the ride. "This is crazy!", she added for extra emphasis. Oh well, if I had a buck for every time Renee thought I was crazy we'd be livin' on Easy Street. Instead, we live on Lawnvale Drive, so I'm open to offers for anyone who wants to start paying for "Renee thinks Chuck's crazy moments" from this point on. There's still time for me to make good money and I'm certain I can come up with more opportunities for her to question my sanity.

I disagreed with her, but when I pushed the button on my battery heated vest and nothing happened, I started to see her point. (I forgot to recharge the battery last night.) Then I randomly decided to leave the battery packs for my heated glove liners laying on the work table in the garage. I've got myself some slick heated equipment for riding in the cold. Now if only I could pull my head out of ass long enough to actually use it, I'll be in good shape. (Renee could be on to something! If I'm not crazy, maybe I'm just a jackass!)

I knew I would need gas in 50 miles or so, but I only made it 25 before I needed to stop and get the feeling back in my fingers. The wind chill at 16 degrees with a 70 mph wind would be, let's see, carry the 2, remember the decimal, that's right, it's DAMN COLD!!! I pumped the gas, jumped back on and made it another 35 miles before I stopped at McDonald's for a breakfast burrito and a cup of coffee. The next run lasted 60 miles before another cup of coffee was required to thaw. Another 40 miles and a gas stop. You get my point, it was cold and I was zooming along at about a 35 mph average counting the time lost with all of the stops. At this pace, I'd make it to Atlanta around midnight. My goal was 6PM.

By 10AM the sun was rising above the trees and beginning to warm up the air, at least a little. I finally got a decent run under my belt and made it 130 miles before stopping for gas. 60 more miles and it was time for lunch and what to my wondering I eyes did appear but a Hooters. A quick ham and cheese and a diet coke and I was back on the road again. I did about 70 miles through most of South Carolina and more gas, then a 150 miles to Duluth, Georgia. That's the kind of runs it takes to make up lost time. I made it to Alpharetta by 6PM.

I called Danielle Melancon-Burton to see if she, Mickey and Stephanie were still available for dinner. It was great to get to see them. Danielle and Stephanie still look as great as they did 30 years ago. Mickey's got less hair, but still can throw you that dazzling smile that made him the girls' favorite back in high school. See for yourself in the pic below.

I won't speak for the Burton's or Stephanie, but I had a great time. It's was nice to get to catch up and see for ourselves that somehow we survived the foolishness of our youth. (Ok, I know what you're thinking, "Will Chuck survive the foolishness of his old age?") Mickey and I reminisced about "the apartment". Some of you remember the apartment we lived in after high school. My god it's a wonder any of us made it past 1979. I had to enlist in the Air Force just to get sober! Good times, but I can only speak for myself when I say that 6 months damn near killed me.

Alright, Day One is complete. 627 miles not counting the 1 u-turn to get back on 29 south in Lynchburg or the 2 u-turns it took to get to this damn hotel this evening. It looks like I've got about 150 miles to get to Birmingham tomorrow and see Glyn. Then on to Mobile for the 4PM group hug at The River Shack. I'm looking forward to it. It looks like it'll be about 32 degrees in the morning. Hey, look on the bright side. That's twice as warm as it was this morning. Thank God I gain an hour about 40 miles from here. Assuming I don't stop, I'll be in Alabama about 15 minutes before I leave in the morning. (You see I cross time zones, so I'll get an hour back after riding for 45 minutes, so I'll be there 15 minutes...oh never mind.)

See ya!

Ready for a Ride?

I thought I'd try my luck at blogging for the first time. To get started let me say that nothing I write is meant to be insulting or offensive, but having never been called a "sensitive guy", I'm giving you fair warning. If you are offended by something you see or read in this blog, then my advice is to go to something else (try Confessions of a Counterfeit Farm Girl at http://www.confessionsofacounterfeitfarmgirl.blogspot.com/, Susan is a pro at writing and much more entertaining than me) . The point is, although it won't be intentional, I still might say something or post a photo that you might not like. Either move on or get over it. I'm not partial to either option, just don't expect me to apologize. Besides, you have the option to comment on the things I post, so speak your mind.

I'm heading out on the Harley en route to Alabama for a few days and on to Daytona Beach for Bike Week after that. Right now the weather this Saturday (my planned departure day) looks like it's going to cooperate. A little cold, but at least it's not supposed to rain/snow/sleet. My plan is to post about the ride each day. Check in periodically and catch up. It'll be like you're virtually "ridin' bitch" with me. Hey, it's no "Where's Waldo" (or "Where's Arlow" for my NGS buddies), but it'll give you an idea of where I am, what I'm doing, where I'm going, and whether Renee is going to welcome me back or encourage me to just keep on riding.

So, once I get the bike loaded and ready to roll Friday night, I'll snap a shot of it and hit the road first thing Saturday morning. See you in blog sphere!