My brother and I had never ridden motorcycles together before. Ever. We hadn't hung out together for decades. What were we thinking….
We left Northern Illinois on a Saturday in June and stopped for the night in Charleston, West Virginia. My riding partner on this trip was my brother Brent. We had never ridden together before this ride. He was between jobs and we had a rental house in Duck, North Carolina waiting for us. His wife and her family were already there having flown and driven out for his in-laws 50th wedding anniversary.
He rode a BMW F 800 ST and carried a tent, sleeping bag and a GPS. I was on the Road King and didn’t even take my trusty old atlas. The first gas stop was in Mahomet Illinois. I filled up and when I pressed the starter got one click and then nothing. I pushed the bike to the curb took off my jacket and started taking the luggage off the seat and package carrier. My bro walked up and asked what was the matter. I told him the positive battery post wasn’t tight and it would be fixed in a jiffy. I hoped that was the problem because otherwise the trip was over for me before it started. The battery pole was the problem and we headed east on I-74 towards Indianapolis.
Brent programmed the GPS with restaurants he wanted to check out on the way. We were only going to eat at local non chain restaurants for this trip. We were going to ride and eat our way to North Carolina. We got to Indy before noon and the GPS led us around the Interstates and past the fairgrounds to the Mississippi Belle. The food is served family style with huge entrees and your choice of sides. We gassed up and got back on I-70 and headed for Richmond Indiana. We peeled off onto Route 35 which is two lanes until it gets south of Dayton Ohio where it turns into a nice four lane highway. East of Chillicothe Ohio the scenery starts to get more interesting with hills and trees starting to prevail over the flat Midwest fields.
Somewhere past Winchester the freeway ended and we were forced on to smaller roads through towns named Pyro, Rodney and Gallipolis. The state is finishing the four lane so we road on smaller state roads crossing the Ohio River at Kanauga. From there it was two lanes all the way to Charleston where we wheeled into the downtown area near the civic center and mall without any motel reservations. Holiday Inn Express set us up for the night with the head of security telling us to park our bikes in the no parking zone next to the lobby door. He said he would be there all night and that’s where the staff took their smoke breaks. The concierge sent us to a local spot where we were so late we had to pay a cover charge for the band we had no intention of staying for but the food and service was excellent. We were in the south now and the people made good with their friendliness and hospitality. Before we turned in for the night we looked at the map and found a twisty red line leading southeast on the map. It looked like it was made for motorcycles and we were game to see it.
Next morning after the complimentary breakfast we headed through the downtown, past the state capital building found West Virginia Route 60 and headed out of town. The road is named The Midland Trail and is a national scenic byway with its own web site. We rode past chemical plants and coal loading docks with the highway, the interstate, railroads and the river sharing the same path. We stopped at a hydroelectric plant at Gauley Bridge to stretch our legs and look at the river pouring over the dam. At the end of town the Gauley River and the New River combine to form the Kanawha River. There is a beautiful water falls at the side of the road that some kids were climbing on to show off to their folks at the bottom. From here the road twists and climbs to Hawks Nest State Park. The funny looking round building next to the welcome center is the rest room. We walked to the lookout over the New River and saw a big coal train winding its way down the valley with its squealing brakes sounding like flutes echoing across the valley.
We rolled along enjoying the scenery when around the bend I saw the New River Gorge Harley shop. There were lights on and a few guys in the parking lot. I turned around and went back to find it closed and the old guys were window shopping. I kind of needed a quart of oil just like the one I left on the workbench at home. So off we went with me in the lead following a full sized semi and trailer over the steepest and curviest part of the road yet. When we got to the bottom of the hill the truck pulled off in town with its brakes literally smoking.
We rode on until we came to an interstate and pulled off to gas up. I went inside and got a Gatorade while my bro talked to everyone in the store. His BMW got lots of attention so I just blended in with the background. Outside we talked to a local who asked if we had come in on the interstate or route 60. I said route 60 from Charleston. He asked if we had gone to the New River Gorge Bridge. It was about 20 miles back and not having a clue about where I was going I had missed the turn. I saw it but we had pulled off a side road once and it wasn’t the right one and Hey, it’s just a bridge right?
So the local said we had to keep going on Route 60 towards Lewisburg because the best and steepest part of the road was still to come. So we did. And it was. He also said there were lots bistros and outside cafes to eat at and that there was a Carnegie Hall just like in New York City. However it was Sunday and most everyone was in church so most places were closed. We ate in a vegan coffee shop next to an Irish Pub that wasn’t open yet for the day.
We continued east on route 60 through White Sulfur Springs and into Virginia. The road merges with I-64 through the Allegheny Mountains splitting off south of Lexington to go over the Blue Ridge Mountains. We followed a couple riding two up on a Gold Wing who turned off on the parkway. We rode lots of twisty turns and stopped for cold drinks at the gas station in Amherst. The temperature climbed higher east of the mountains and was in the mid eighties. Back on the bikes we rode route 60 into downtown Richmond about an hour before dark. The motel search didn’t work as well as it had in Charleston with the GPS sending us around the block to an unwelcoming downtown parking garage. We headed back west to the outskirts of town and got a room and ate at a local restaurant called Bob Evans. Really, we went past his birthplace in Ohio the day before so it was local in my eyes.
The next morning we woke to rain with more on the way according to the Weather Channel. I tried to drag my feet so we would wait out the rain but soon we were riding across Richmond to the H-D of West Virginia Harley shop in a downpour. I replaced my battery and got my quart of oil and we rode south on I-95 towards North Carolina. We rode right back into the rain so we pulled over and geared back up. As we approached the state line the rain got heavier so we pulled into the rest area to wait and get a state map. We headed back south and turned east on Route 158 heading for the coast. The GPS got us to Conway looking for a BBQ place that turned out to be closed Monday through Wednesday so we turned back to town and ate at Walters Diner.
Back on the road after our meal we fell back into the rhythm of the road. Word to the wise, be really careful to stay alert after you eat. At the next red light I saw the BMW lurch and almost pull into the path of a semi. I was yelling “It’s a red light! It’s a red light!” When it went green I led following the semi Brent had almost hit. About two miles down the road I was gazing at the Tarheel BBQ sign and dreaming of a nice big juicy sandwich when I saw our turn flash past on the right. I took the next right and we wound south back to route 158. At the stop sign I held a one sentence riders meeting. “If we don’t get our heads out of our asses we are going to get killed.” Brent answered with a thumbs up and off we went. East of Sunbury the road borders the south end of The Great Dismal Swamp. Soon there were more and more boat shops and we crossed the Pasquotank River with an impressive marina full of boats. I could almost taste the fresh seafood.
As we were heading south towards Kitty Hawk and the Atlantic Ocean the traffic picked up because we were headed into a resort town. We got to the rental house in Duck well before dark and met up with everyone. It was a big three story affair with lots of room for all of us. We caught up on what we had been doing and turned in for the night. The next morning after a walk on the beach we were back on the bikes to check out the outer banks. Just down the road is the spot where Wilbur and Orville Wright made history with their airplane. We went into The Wright Brothers National Memorial Park and checked out the exhibits and walked up to the monument on Big Kill Devil Hill where they flew the first airplane. Then we got back on the bikes and rode around the big hill where the monument stands.
As we had both skipped breakfast we decided to ride until we saw lots of boats and stop and find a seafood restaurant. As we headed south on route 12 the town gave out to sand dunes and ocean breezes. We stopped at the fishing harbor but they didn’t have food so we got back on the road. In the distance we saw a tall bridge and when we got there traffic was backed up due to a crew running a street sweeper across the bridge. It gave us a chance to look out at the ocean that we wouldn’t have gotten otherwise.
When the crew got to the end of the bridge traffic began to speed up and when I shifted the shifter fell to the floorboard. Not good but the timing wasn’t too bad. I signaled that I needed to pull over at the boat launch at Oregon Inlet. We dismounted and looked at the shifter. The inside spline was loose so I got out the few tools I carry and found out that I did not have the correct allen wrench. So my gregarious brother walked the parking lot and came back with a bag of tools and a pleasant young man who was going fishing. I dug through his bag of tools and he didn’t have Allen wrenches either.
I improvised with a screwdriver tip that fit and pulled the shifter off the bike. The screw was stripped on three threads so I filed on it with my leatherman tool to clean it up a bit put some blue thread lock on it. We waited a few minutes and tried the shifter. It worked until I tried it with my foot. Ok time for plan B. I pulled the part off again and sent Brent to the hardware store with the screw. He was back in about half an hour with two screws, one short and one long. We knitted it back together at just about the time when we realized we were probably going to get rained on. OK what to do now? The spline itself was stripped also so the plan was to ride to the house get in a car and go to Kitty Hawk Harley about 30 miles away. As we got closer to town the sky looked less threatening so we rode right to the dealership. Wheels, the parts guy came through with the part and sent us on our way.
We were going past another hardware store so I ran in and got an allen set and the whole time we were looking for a seafood place that fit our rigorous criteria mostly that it was open and serving food. It was pushing 3 o’clock and we were starved. We made it through the busy part of town to Beach Road and found The Black Pelican restaurant.
About two hours later we waddled back out to the bikes completely stuffed and satisfied. It was the only time on this trip that I ate more than my brother and we even had dessert. I looked up and down the beach at the dunes and the smaller houses and local businesses. I said to my brother that this was our side of town. It was old and authentic and didn’t look like everyplace else. All across the nation everything is homogenous and has the same fast food and chain stores as the next town. Let’s find and support the unique places out there before they are all gone.
After putting the new shaft on the shifter linkage the next morning I showered up and hit the road. The night before I had spread atlas maps for the four or five states around the way home in front of me while watching the weather channel. My method is to watch where the rain will be and try to map a way around it. Of course the rain gear is packed up on the bike but I hate to get wet. Brent rode west with me and we stopped for breakfast at a diner in Elizabeth City. I ordered while he washed and I chatted with the waitress. My brother ordered the exact same thing as I did. This had been happening the entire trip. It got to the point where we would order two selections and split what we got on our plates. Another day and we would have been finishing each others sentences. We headed west and at the parking lot of the Tarheel BBQ joint we split up. He was going to loop south and back east to Duck.
I was heading off solo on the way home. Another first, it was the furthest ride I had ever started on my own. I tried not to think about being on the road alone. I retraced route 158 west to I 95 north and stopped at the state line and got a Virginia map. Soon after I was off the Interstate and heading west on Virginia route 58. It was sunny and the road was smooth. Several times the car that pulled away from me at the stop lights would get pulled over by local police running radar. Speeding tickets are revenue for small towns in these tough times.
I felt like I stuck out like a sore thumb with Illinois plates on a Harley all by my lonesome. The sky was starting to get threatening so I pulled into a Pilot station in Danville and bought an atlas. The weather channel was on showing storms approaching. One of the gals at the counter said it was going to storm. So I looked at the atlas and watched the sky.
After about a half hour the sky didn’t look so dark and I headed west again thinking if it started storming I would stop in Martinsville. I made it past there and soon was climbing in elevation towards Lovers Leap near the turn for the Blue Ridge Parkway. It was starting to get dark and chilly so I pulled off and put on my chaps. I geared down as the road rose and soon was in a fog bank. The road started doing switchbacks so I figured it was getting close to the top. Rain was dripping off my helmet and windshield I had the passing lights on and for good measure I put on the four way flashers so I wouldn’t get hit from behind. At lovers Leap I couldn’t see 50 ft in front of me. One of the cars that were following me pulled over in front of me and came running back holding a map.
“Hey bro does route 81 cross this road near here?” I started laughing mostly from nervous tension.
“Man, I don’t even know where I’m at right now!” we both laughed and he went back to his truck to look at his map. I pulled to the road and tried to listen for any oncoming traffic and eased back on the highway. Soon the fog was below and the road curved along the plateau. Surprisingly it did not immediately drop back down and there were stores and gas stations along the road.
All too soon I was back on the interstate heading north on I-70 towards West Virginia. The cloud cover was just at the ridgeline when a sign said entering Jefferson National Forrest and tunnel ahead. I hate tunnels. But the road just pointed at the mountain and in we went. I popped out of the other side intact into bright sunshine. The clouds were in the valley over the hill. There was more gorgeous road and then, another tunnel.
I made it through that one too. I had intended to go back to route 19 and the big bridge we had missed on the way east. I pulled into the rest area to get a map but it was closed. Wow it was past 7pm so I set my sights on Beckley which was the next big town. I found a room in Beaver and plotted the next day’s travels. I wrote this on a post it note 64W 23N 35W 70W to get me back to Indy. The bridge was about 20 miles away so I planned on getting up early, checking it out and then heading west towards home
Back on the road in the morning I headed out of town and was soon crossing over the New River Gorge Bridge. It’s four lanes and it was a long way down to the river below. There is a visitor’s center on the north side and a road to the bottom of the gorge. A very steep, switchback laced, use your brakes around the corners kind of road. The inside of every turn was scraped from vehicles dragging from the low clearance. It is a one way only road so it wasn’t that dangerous if everyone followed the rules. I can’t remember how many cars I had seen blow redlights this trip so I know how far rule following can sometimes go. Just beneath the bridge about halfway to the bottom of the gorge there was a turnout so I got out to take some pictures. The scale of this thing was immense. I knew it was a four lane road up there but it just didn’t seem big enough for that from that location. There were two vans of young folks going rock climbing at that spot. I wished them well and headed for the bottom. The old bridge at the bottom was still in good shape with its modern counterpart taking all the traffic. I stopped for more photos’s and climbed back up to the south side of the highway and headed for home.
I caught route 35 back in Chillicothe Ohio and was back in the Midwest. I pulled into Reynolds Indiana about 3pm dog tired and hungry. To the west in southern Illinois there were storms on the radar so I kept my eyes on the sky and the road. I set my sights on Danville Illinois and figured I might have to stop there for the night if the weather changed for the worst. In Indy there was a huge wreck with the road completely stopped so I headed north on I-65. The clouds gathered to my left and it looked like rain. Traffic was moving along at a good pace so soon I was back in the sunshine.
At the next gas stop I realized I was close to Indiana Beach and I figured I could be sleeping in my own bed in about three hours or so. All said after a detour or two I was back home at dark on one of the longest days of the year. I stopped at my favorite watering hole and had one for all my brothers that are gone and couldn’t make this ride. I went home and called my brother to say I was home safe and that he missed a good ride over the mountain.
Ride like hell. Ride safe. Ride free.
