MultipleMotoDisorder

Some rides are perfect from the time that they are conceived to the moment they end. This ride was not one of those but it came darn close. It happened because I finally got up the courage to tear my Cagiva Gran Canyon apart and tackle all the issues that come with a Ducati desmodromic valve train. Of course, I had excellent support and guidance from Steve Lissner who was there for the actual  clearance checks, measurement of shims, and then double check of all moving parts in the heads. Still, and all, I found a good deal of info on line that showed me how to cut the rear fender in half and remove all of the parts that block access to the vertical (rear) cylinder like the shock absorber, the air box, the gas tanks (yes, there are two of them!), all the front body work, the rear mufflers, the pannier racks and on and on. All of that. Anyhow, I carried out the recommendations I found and then I got most of the bike back together. I was also able to replace the old air filter, the gas filter, the spark plugs and a degraded and leaking quick disconnect gasoline line piece. I found that mice had built a nest inside the airbox and had filled it with insulation from the garage rafters!  This project had the Canyon laid up for a couple of weeks but afterward, it was ready to ride. I’ve resisted doing this for years because Ducati motors have such a reputation. At the end of it all, though, I’m glad I did it and that’s one fear down and one gigantic less reason to visit the ‘official’ local shop that demands huge amounts of cash while simultaneously complaining about working on bikes that they view as ‘unworthy’ of their attention. So be it. I’m having a ball on this baby and I have almost no reason to ever darken their doors again. Yes, you know who I’m talking about!

So, Steve and I met up at 9:30 that Friday morning and we zipped down I-40 to Tennessee 96. The official route follows recommended Mad Maps’ suggestions but the long and short of it is that we spent a good amount of time on TN 30 with its four canyon roads that are some of the best in the state. Steve took us down highway 60 where we picked up 143 east and then 74/64 over to 68. I think we snagged a bit of 30 again and it was all motorcycling nirvana. I could ride these roads 6 days a week and not get tired of them. And, the Pièce de résistance is that they are mostly just appetizers for the truly magnificent roads that we were about to ride the next day!

So, that evening, Alan showed up on his BMW F650 and we took in some live music at the Crab Shack in Tellico Plains. After sleeping in room E at Mountain View Cabins on the Tellico River, we got up bright and early and I led the ride up onto the Gravelhala. I’ve ridden this route a couple of times on my DRZ-400S but never on a big ol’ Gran Canyon, so I was a tad nervous. I nursed that baby up onto the access road off Bald River Falls road. From there it’s mostly following my intuitive sense of which roads and forks to follow. Amazingly, I didn’t make a mistake although I came close when the road split right and left. Even so, it was mostly uneventful bouncing up and down the beautiful hills and through incredible forests. Occasionally, we got an eyeful of breathtaking scenery. Lots of fun but I still didn’t have my ‘gravel’ legs. I took it easy. Steve and Alan took off. Steve’s big V-Strom was all conquering in this territory. My Canyon felt like a jack hammer on washboard surfaces.

So, we became a triumphal procession and headed into Robbinsville. We savored highway 28, luxuriated in the embrace of the North Carolina mountains, had lunch in Bryson City, and then we came back. Somehow, the Tellico Gap road was chosen for the return. This gravel mountain road seemingly moves forever upward on incredibly loose gravel, clouds of dust, and constant tight hairpin turns. I just hunkered down, put the bike and gear and prayed to any deities willing to listen. Not sure how but we got through it. Even so, I was pretty much finished at that point. I’d done enough gravel without wrecking my bike and myself and I thought it was time to leave well enough alone.

So, back to the cabin and a night’s rest but Steve and Alan were plotting yet another mountain road. The next day I shared my apprehensions. “I don’t think I’m going to make it on this ride.” Steve batted that away and told me, “Yes you are. This road is much gentler than the last one; you have to ride with us!” I had no idea how he could know this since to my knowledge he had never ridden this route previously. Even so, I guess I wanted to be convinced so I mumbled, “alright; I’ll do it but I won’t be happy….” It’s times like these that I realize how important it is to be willing to try new things and how great it is to have friends who see in us what we have trouble seeing ourselves. He was right. The road was amazing. I would have kicked myself a thousand times if I had not gone. Here is a link to an interesting article about this road, the Kimsey Mountain Highway.

Great ride. We finished it before 100 degree temps returned to Tennessee. Today it’s going up to 100 but we had temps in the 80s and even lower in the mountains. Take care, let me know what you liked about this post and don’t forget to tell me about your next ride. Adios.

I wish I could capture what it feels like to ride for well over 500 miles in one day through incredible landscapes with great people on a motorcycle that pushes all the right buttons. I realize that’s impossible so I’ll just briefly hit the highlights of a four-day ride from Nashville to Mansfield, Ohio for the MidOhio summertime vintage motorcycle days’ gathering, races, and the worlds’s biggest flea market of motorcycle stuff, treasure, and just plain old junk. It was all there and it was hot and it was raining, and it was hot, humid, and sometimes it got hotter. But man, was it fun!

I met Steve at his house on Thursday morning. He had just gone in to get a blood sample drawn but there he was, sitting in front of his loaded V-Strom ready to roll. I rolled into his driveway after buzzing from the south side to the north end of Nashville on my slightly overloaded Cagiva Gran Canyon. I had all three boxes loaded, a tank bag and a Kermit chair bungeed on the back. We jumped on 386 and headed northeast. Our first stop was a family restaurant in Scottsville, Kentucky where we had breakfast, incredibly good it was and the total for me was $4.44. Three fours seemed like a good omen and then we got onto Kentucky route 100 which snakes through the southern part of the state over hills, through wooded areas, down into 4 or 5 canyons with tight twists and turns. It was a nice appetizer for what laid ahead.

We slogged past Burkesville and Somerset up onto highway 30 and then 89 to the town of McKee. Once onto 30 the fun really started as the elevations increased and the wooded areas thickened and the curves tightened up. Lots and lots of fun we had riding through this part of the Blue Grass state. And, as if a gift from heaven, just before we hit the hills, we rode through a quick downpour that lowered the temperatures by over 20 degrees! The heat didn’t catch up with us again until we slid into a hooten’ hollerin’ little bitty town just outside of McKee.

We got ourselves an Ale8 at this pitstop and kept right on going up to Portsmouth, Ohio. I thought Portsmouth was beautiful sitting as it does on the Ohio River with its victorian era buildings, rocky cliffs, and very attractive bridges. Somehow I didn’t have my camera when I needed it to get some pictures but I think Steve and Allan picked up a few and I’ll add one when I get it. On a side note, I skipped over quite a few of the roads that we got to sample in Kentucky. Steve put together a complete compendium here on GoogleMaps and I’ve added that info below:

If you can figure this all out, you are probably a geography teacher. Hopefully, though, you get the idea. Back to the trip, we saw flat track racing at the county fairgrounds, vintage motorcycle racking at MidOhio, and I got to relive a few of my teenage motorcycle dreams because my very first bikes were at the event. Here is a picture of a Kawasaki G5 in yellow (mine was robin’s egg blue) that carried me all over northern Illinois at 16 years of age until I was 18. At that point, I was old enough to ride a full-sized bike and I got a Kawasaki H1 500 two-stroke triple.

So, we hung out, ate a lot of stuff that is bad for us, drank lots of fluids (including cheap beer), and cheered the racers. On Sunday we woke up early and began the ride home. Thankfully, Steve and Allan plotted some great riding back through Kentucky; the Cagiva was roaring, Randy kept his Kawasaki Mean Streak on the boil, and we even picked up Boo and his best girl on their Yamaha Venture cruiser. By the time we got back to Scottsville, Allan was singing, “this is the ride that never ends,” most of us had sore butts but I would do it again in a heartbeat! Like I said at the beginning, great fun, lots and lots and lots of motorcycles, good friends who know how to enjoy life and it all just works. Take care; let me know when you can ride!

There aren’t many feelings like the one I get when I set out for a ride that lasts more than a day. That’s a very special feeling and not much compares with it but anticipating a ride is pretty special too. Of course, a big part of anticipating a ride is thinking through all that needs to be done to the motorcycle. Will the tires make it? (Don’t ask me how many times I’ve needed a tire during  a ride). Is the oil fresh? How is the chain holding up? What about brake pads and clutch fluid and radiator fluid and on and on. You get the picture. There is always something that needs to be done and those somethings tend to grow when the motorcycle in question is a Cagiva Gran Canyon.

You ask, why a Cagiva Gran Canyon? Well, see, Allan is on his way to Baltimore to pick up a BMW F650 and the F650 is an ‘adventure touring bike’ and Steve wants to take his Suzuki V-Strom which is also an adventure touring bike and that meant I needed to take an adventure touring bike, or is that one big ol’ dual sport bike? I don’t think the Cagiva or the Suzuki can claim to be dual sports and I sure hope Steve doesn’t have any wet and slippery places in mind cuz the Canyon weighs well over 500 pounds. I suppose I’ll just have to suck it up and run this baby over whatever they throw at me. What is Randy going to do on a Kawasaki Mean Streak? Does he have another motorcycle I don’t know about? I guess I’ll find out in a day or two. Anyhow, the Cagiva has not had any sort of adequate light source for years and that’s why I don’t usually like to take it on an overnight trip but Steve offered to fix that.

He found some cheapo lights at the local discount emporium and wired ‘em up for me. This took a couple of hours and I noticed then that the front tire was cupping and so I got a replacement tire at the local Cycle Gear. Thanks to my nifty thrifty No-Mar tire machine it wasn’t too much trouble to slip it on and along with an oil change, I think the Cagiva is ready to roll! Again, I guess we’ll see. I added a new battery a few weeks ago so hopefully, I won’t have that to worry about (like I did with the BMW R1100S).

Cagivas are really great for teaching patience. I actually read through my shop manual and looked at what needs to be done to get to the rear cylinder for a valve check. It’s probably an hour or two to remove all the body work. Online, I found an excellent website dedicated to how to modify the battery box and rear fender so that the rear cylinder’s exhaust valve can be checked. You really don’t want to know all that needs to be done for this to happen. Yes, the Cagiva will teach me patience. I need it. A friend told me that Cagiva means toothache in Italian. I can think of a few other things that it might mean. Anyway, this is what waits for me when we get back. I’ll try and post then about our trip to Vintage Motorcycle Days in Ohio. Stay tuned and let me know when you can ride!

Sometimes the ride only makes sense after you are finished for the day. That’s what Saturday’s romp up to Burkesville felt like. Some of you who read this blog may remember that the last time I was up in Burkesville was May 20 to the 22nd for the European Rider’s Rally put on the BMW Club of Nashville. That was also the last time I really rode the R1100S and that was also when the bleepin’ battery died on me and I needed to be trailered back home in ignominy and shame. Well, that’s all in the past. These dang gel batteries! The darn thing only lasted around 10 years and then just like that, it quit. Ok, I get it. Maybe I should check these things more often. Steve Lissner directed the dead batteryectomy and a new Absorbed Glass Mat unit took its place. All fine and well but R1100S’s were made to ride and thanks to the Triumph Club that meets at the Waffle House in Hendersonville, that chance came once again.

Some of you may be wondering why I rode a BMW to a Triumph Club ride, and why Steve was on a Yamaha XS 850 and why Beau was on a first generation Yamaha FZ1. I guess that is the great thing about clubs here in Nashville. They get going because people love to ride and then they ride, and they ride and they ride. Not a problem what you ride as long as you are out there and boy, are these guys out there! Lots of fun. As soon as we took off, the sky opened up and we got a good drenching but as luck would have it by the time we did our first stop of the ride, the sun was back out and we blow dried everything.

Anyhow, I called this post groovin’ because Steve, as usual, put together an incredible package of roads that had us twistin, rollin’, divin’, and leanin’ the way god meant for motorcycles to do all that stuff! Great fun and I found myself leaning deeper into curves, keeping up with Beau and Steve, and enjoying every minute of it. It seems the curvy, twisty stuff goes on forever here in Northern Tennessee and Southern Kentucky and I cannot get enough of it. I guess that’s what I get for paying penance in east central Illinois for 10 years. It’s all paying off now baby!

The riding here is terrific. I’ve met more riders in the last month or so than I did in the last 7 years living in Nashville. They are a fantastic group, open to ideas about riding, love to motorcycle camp–which I haven’t done in years–, enjoy heading to Barber Motorsports Park, and are open to rallies and other moto-events. I’m up for all of it. I’m like a kid in the candy shop; gonna have to control these urges.

Some of you may be wondering why I have a picture of a barbecue place on the blog since Tamra and I were vegetarians for over 20 years. It seems that both of us wound up lactose intolerant. Yeah, it really, really sucks. As a result, we added seafood to our diets a few years back and now, on occasion, I will have turkey and chicken, and even a little bacon here and there. I still eat a mostly vegetarian diet at home but it feels good now and then to add some meat. I think that being vegetarian broadened my outlook and I simply do not mind a completely vegetarian meal most of the time. I doubt that would have been the case before I got used to a completely meatless diet.

Long explanation, though, to get to the Hamilton’s. They are an African American owned business in Burkesville, Kentucky. They are open Thursdays. Fridays and Saturdays. The sign says that they USUALLY open at 9:00 AM. I love the usually part. Check ‘em out the next time you are there. Great food, lots of atmosphere, it’s worth the ride and it isn’t your typical corporate eats. A really nice change of pace and the roads and scenery around Burkesville make it well worth your time. Take care and let me know when you can ride!

Perfect contentment is a rare but highly desirable state of being. I remember feeling it as a youngster during the summer, when I was outdoors, with a group of friends, doing exactly what I enjoyed. Back then it often involved playing baseball, swimming in a Wisconsin lake, or spending all day in the forest. Now, I feel it every once in a while when I get a day or two to ride one of my motorcycles, with friends, in a beautiful part of the country, when the weather is cooperating. I felt this emotion just yesterday evening with my son, Isaac, in the mountains of eastern Tennessee and western North Carolina. We had Saturday and most of Sunday to ride the area around Tellico Plains and we took full advantage.

By now, if you’ve been reading this blog, you know the details of riding between Tellico Plains and Robbinsville in North Carolina. The Cherohala Skyway connects these two locations and it is beautiful, not to mention jam packed with some of the best motorcycle roads I know. We got there quickly by taking I-40 to I-75 and then down to Tellico on Tennessee 68. That’s the boring but necessary precursor to checking into the Mountain View Cabins resort, pulling the dual sports off the trailer, and launching ourselves up and onto the Gravelhala. I’m sure there are much more challenging, not to mention more beautiful roads out west, but I like these roads just fine and I’ll be back as often as time and money allow.

We got in two good, long rides. The first on Saturday afternoon right after we arrived around noon and the second all morning long on Sunday. Both rides were terrific but the Saturday ride, although short, scratched my riding itch to perfection. We ended up on Bald River Falls road and then back on the Cherohala. We rode for about an hour and a half and then we drove into Madisonville to Las Fuentes Mexican restaurant for a late lunch. As soon as we got there the sky opened up and drenched everything in sight. We went back to the cabin and rested. Then we got a campfire going and we enjoyed the evening.

We sat around the perfect campfire and talked from just before dusk until well into the night. My fifteen-year old son and I talked for hours. We stared into the perfectly clear night sky and talked. Isaac saw a shooting star and every quadrant of the sky was completely full of stars. The campfire burned and the large sections of whole round tree trunks caught fire. We enjoyed the evening, drank cokes and snacks and I wished the moment could last for ever. It lasted as long as possible and then we turned in.

The next day was fantastic and we rode all the way into Robbinsville and then back on the pavement. We got rained on and then it cleared up. What a great ride. But we had to cover about 230 miles of interstate to get home. We did it and I forgot to fill up the car when I needed to! We ran out of gas and I had to pull Isaac’s bike off the trailer and fetch a couple of gallons. Incredibly frustrating and a sharp contrast to the perfection of the prior evening. Oh well! Let me know about your best ride. I’d love to hear about it.

Ray told me that a group of riders meets at the Bar-B-Cutie over near where I-24 and Harding Place Road meet on the southwest side of Nashville. One can never have too many friends who ride motorcycles and since some of the riders in this group are also in the BMW club and others are in the Triumph club, it made sense to me to get over there and meet these people. During the summer months, they have breakfast at 8 and ride at 9. That makes sense what with the heat in Nashville and so, I ignited the Gran Canyon and got there at 8:30. Most had already finished eating so I had an egg and bacon sandwich, swallowed it, and followed people out of the restaurant and into the parking lot.

There must have been 12 or so motorcycles, mostly Suzuki V-Stroms and a couple of SVs. My Canyon was out there along with a big BMW LT, a Yamaha FZ1, a Honda Deauville, and something else I can’t remember. The guy on the FZ got out in front of a group of us that included Ray on his re-acquired Suzuki V-Strom 1000, Sam Navarro on his Suzuki SV 1000, and me. The guy on the FZ was Troy and he told us we were going to Lynchburg. I didn’t remember that Lynchburg is where they make Jack Daniels but Ray reminded me.

We throttled our way down Nolensville Pike aka 41, to 99 to 269 and then on over to 129. I know I’m missing a few roads in between so I’ll rely on Troy and Sam to fill in the details. Regardless, if these roads are not part of your repertoire, pull out your Tennessee Gazetteer and figure this out. You need to end up in Lynchburg and you can probably afford to experiment a little to figure this out. These are great, clean roads with plenty of sweet sweeping curves and an occasional tight corner. Traffic was light and the cars that did get in front of us didn’t seem to mind when we passed. Good riding! Did I mention that it was hot? I think the temps were well into the 90s by the time we got to Lynchburg.

On the way back, we went around Tim’s Ford lake/reservoir on highway 50, connected to 130 (I think) and wound up, somehow, back on 129 at which point we recapitulated a lot of the earlier route. It got steadily hotter until a brief shower lowered the temps. Very nice! Our lunch at the Bar-B-Cue Caboose Cafe in Lynchburg was wonderful. We added some slushees and ice creams at a Sonic in Nolensville and then rolled back into Nashville. Troy motored off toward Lavergne and Sam headed into Brentwood. It was a good ride, with excellent company on a rather warm Sunday in June. I’m looking forward to riding with this group again!

Wow! These guys like to, no love to, ride. It’s been a very long time since I had the pleasure of spending time with a group of people who love to ride as much as this group. I’ve had fantastic rides with lots of my riding buddies but I’ve not had many that were this intense. For this ride, we left on Sunday, May 29 and returned on Monday, Memorial Day, May 30. All told, we rode close to 1000 miles in two days but not much of it was interstate. Most of it included world class roads like the Devil’s Triangle and the Snake. We didn’t get the Dragon in there, at least not this time, but I’m sure (or at least I hope!) we do it sometime soon.

I met Steve, Randy and Allan at I-40 and Tennessee 109 for breakfast on Sunday at about 7:45. These guys not only like to ride, they aren’t afraid to get up early and show up ready to roll. We jumped on I-40 and got off at Monterey, Tennessee where we began our back road ride up to the Devil’s Triangle. This was riding at its finest. I could not keep up with these guys but the ride was fantastic regardless. Randy ground off the peg feelers on his Kawasaki Mean Streak and Allan pushed a BMW R1100RT faster than I’ve ever seen. Steve led most of the time on his Suzuki V-Strom 1000 and darn it if he couldn’t smoke the side covers off just about anyone we saw this weekend.

The Devil’s Triangle is everything it is cracked up to be. It’s twisty, winding, mountainous, scenic and one of the better challenges for riders of any sort of motorcycle. We had a ball and then we started heading over towards Boone, North Carolina. As luck would have it though, Allan’s BMW split a wheel valve stem and we had to stop and figure out how to repair one of these babies on a Memorial Day weekend Sunday. Try that in Tennessee! It wasn’t easy but Steve motored off to Greenville, Tennessee and actually found one. I strapped his wheel to the back of my Yamaha FZ1 and headed over to the TA Truck Stop where some kind fellows allowed Steve to use their slide hammer bead breaker on the hapless BMW wheel. It worked! After a couple of hours wondering how this would turn out, we filled it with air, zoomed back on down the road, and Allan bolted it back on his machine.

So, with that taken care of, we blasted over to Boone where Steve and co. had reserved a cabin. We got in a good night’s sleep and woke up refreshed and ready to ride again. After a nice breakfast at the local diner, we headed back into the mountains and up into Virginia. The air was crisp and cool near Boone but it quickly heated up. The riding was beyond description; hours and hours of twisty mountain pleasure. We slipped into Kentucky, in and out of hidden valleys, more delicious roads than I can possibly remember, and all, fast, fast, fast. The other riders got away from me more than a couple of times but they always waited when changing roads or just when they got tired. It was fantastic but about an hour or so after lunch, it got even hotter and we were all pretty tired. Still, we had a few hundred miles left to go, which we did. Remember, these guys really like to ride. I liked that about this ride.

We still had lots of twisty roads to go. We did ‘em and then some. It was a Memorial Day weekend ride to remember. When can we ride again?

It’s been quite a while since I’ve attended a BMW motorcycle rally, actually any kind of rally so it was welcome news when Ray Ingram told me he was going to Burkesville, Kentucky for the European Riders Rally. I met Ray a couple of Saturday’s ago at the Waffle House in Hendersonville as he leads the Triumph Riders Group. It turns out that he rides with both groups and since I have an insatiable desire to ride, and since it is more fun to ride with at least one other person, I jumped on the chance to fire up the R1100S and ride it up for this meeting of the motorcycles. I had wanted to attend this rally since I moved to Nashville 7 years ago as it is sponsored and organized by the Nashville BMW Club. So, here was the chance and I took it.

In the picture above you can see Ray phoning home after the first leg of our ride. We had just had breakfast at the Waffle House off I-40 and Old Hickory and it was one of the most interesting rendezvous’ I’ve experienced in a while. Ray had told me to meet him at the Waffle House just east of the airport and north of I-40, or at least that is what I internalized from our e-mail communications. I should have known and anticipated that there is a Waffle House at every interstate intersection throughout the state of Tennessee! I didn’t find him at the first Waffle House I stopped at and I figured there must be another so I rode off a bit to the east and checked at one, and then another. I stopped searching at the correct exit but I still didn’t find Ray and so I stopped and decided to call him. Unbeknownst to me, Ray had, just that morning, traded in his Suzuki V-Strom for a Kawasaki Concours 14. I actually passed him as I was searching for the Waffle House but since he had never seen me on the BMW and since I was looking for a V-Strom, we did the two ships in the night routine and missed each other. After another call, and a text or two, I caught up with him and he dropped the bomb.

He told me that he bought this thing that very morning and that his wife didn’t know about the bike. I found this quite interesting. I’m also sure that while the story was an instant attention grabber for the rest of the rally, I value continued marital harmony as much as I do riding. Again, I understand that we all do things differently and difference is typically a fascinating topic so I enjoyed it and the rally itself.

As for the rally itself, I just want to hit two highlights. The first is that it was a terrific ride. The distance was pretty minimal but there is an enormous amount of pretty country between Nashville and Burkesville. We enjoyed most of it and as you can see in the picture above, we also got to cross the Cumberland on a ferry not far from the rally site. Ray led this ride and he led it well. The organizers of the rally did a wonderful job of providing food, a rally site, and incredibly pleasant company. I know there are many others but I got to meet rally chair, Polly Wright and Steve Page. I’ve been to lots of BMW rallies in my time but this one was friendly and welcoming in a way that went way beyond the norm. I can’t thank the officers enough and I sure hope I get to attend many of their future rallies. As an aside, Burkesville itself is very interesting. There is a barbecue place called Hamilton’s and a barn like structure that houses decades of motorcycle stuff called Newbies. Both are worth a visit as is the Alpine Motel on top of a hill facing the park where the rally was held with views of the very pretty surrounding area. Next time I am up that way, I want to get a room there. The rally was fantastic. But…

The battery in my 1999 BMW R1100S died on Sunday morning as we were preparing to go home. We found a gentleman at the motel who kindly provided a jump start and it came to life. I figured, no problem. We rode to a restaurant in Celina, Tennessee and had breakfast. I went out and it would not start. We got another jump and it started; I got on and we started the last leg of our ride home. I noticed I needed gas. I stopped and filled up and went to start it and nothing. I got a jump start and nothing. An incredibly kind Harley rider named Richard went home and got his charger and we let it sit for 20 minutes and still nothing. It was dead. I didn’t know this but when gel batteries die, that is it. The darn thing was only 10 years old! I replaced the original 10 years ago on a ride from Urbana, Illinois to Franklin, North Carolina where I met Al Litchfield, and I just kept it on a battery tender most of the time in between and it always worked. Note to self: replace batteries every six or seven years. Can I stretch it to eight? This is what got me into trouble. Long story short, Tamra brought the trailer and we dragged it home. An ignoble end to an excellent ride but I’ll have to extract some sort of positive new insight from this. Gotta keep thinking…

On My Way Out of the Country

I’m sitting in George Bush International airport in Houston watching a large jet being towed out toward the runway. It’s almost 6 pm central time and I’m on my way to Mérida in the Yucatan. I haven’t been there since spring break in 2002 and I’m really looking forward to it. Still, yesterday I was sitting on my Suzuki DRZ400S and breaking the rear wheel free in some extra deep gravel. The front wheel squirreled its way through piles of small stones as I revved the throttle and gently leaned while I eased my grip and kept telling myself that it’s alright if the front end feels light. Al and I were just outside of Pikeville heading west on highway 30 after having had lunch at the local Subway where we met Roy. Roy hobbled on a pair of crutches but couldn’t stop smiling while he told us that he loved motorcycles and if he could, he’d go riding with us on his four-wheeler. He added that he rode dirt bikes and that he was pretty unhappy that he couldn’t ride now on account of his leg. I recognized right away that Roy just might have some insight into where the good roads are in the county surrounding the Fall Creek Falls State Park. I think it’s Van Buren County. He did and he shared it. He told us, “go past the gas station where highway 30 meets up with 101 and after a few miles, look for the sign announcing Bledsoe State Forest area.” After filling up at the station, Al and I passed the entrance but we figured it out right away, turned around and jumped back on it. Lots of gravel along this route and what’s even better, nearby, not far from one of the state’s correctional facilities, are hundreds of acres of tree farms crisscrossed with forest roads, sandy, muddy, and riddled with pot holes. We signed up and had a few hours of fun riding. The temps reached into the 80s and I wished I had been dressed more lightly, but only just.

That was Friday afternoon but Thursday I wasn’t all that sure that we would come home feeling that the trip was worth it. We left Nashville on Thursday morning even though Al came in Wednesday evening. He drove down from Peoria with his Suzuki DR650 in the back of his Ford Ranger. We decided to hang out that evening, go out for dinner at our favorite Mexican restaurant in Nashville, La Fogata, and then leave early the next day. We did and tried a new route out of town. That involved Old Hickory Boulevard to Bell Road to Murphreesboro pike to Hobbs Pike and then east of town. We got turned around a time or two but eventually we found our desired route. We ended up at a little café in Watertown, Tennessee where Al ordered a pecan waffle and I had a biscuit with honey. They were out of pecans but it seemed like a good idea to grab some coffee. A couple of people at the restaurant provided us with advice on nice local roads but instead we headed up to 141 and then over to the Center Hill Dam. From there, we buzzed down 96 to Smithville and then on over to Sparta. Sparta was not exactly what I had hoped for but it sufficed. There just isn’t much there in the way of restaurants and motels although we managed to find a Royal Inn and the Second Act Deli which strangely also had the name of Squealing Bob’s Barbecue. At any rate, we wanted to check out what appeared to be a labyrinth of gravel roads just east of town. So we headed out and up into the mountains.

We found the road we wanted and entered the state forest area. The gravel road was fun to ride until we found a parking area that seemed to be the staging ground for a hike to Virgin Falls. A fellow who had just returned from the hike, another Bob from Chicago, told us that it was a few hours in and an even more strenuous uphill few hours out. So we passed on the hike and headed further into the forest on the gravel road. Oddly, we saw a sign that prohibited ATVs, dirt bikes, and motorcycles! We kept on, found a very old cemetery, took some pictures and continued. Another sign warned that the road was not a public highway and that our vehicles of choice were strictly prohibited. We took it seriously and retired from the battlefield. That meant, at least in my mind, that the hunt for good unpaved roads might just be a failure.

As a consolation, I told Al that we should ride up to Monterey. On the way, Al with his uncanny skills at finding just the right road, found Old Railroad Grade Road. It cut through the mountains just the way a railroad bed would if it were sliced out by a toy train enthusiast. It was gloriously unpaved and at one point we peered over the side of a sheer cliff down into an adjacent river and I wished this road would continue for many, many more miles. It was over all too soon, maybe just a few miles, and we found some back roads and ended up in Crossville. It was a good ride all the way there. I didn’t know where we were, though, when we popped out on highway 70, one of the three that cut across Tennessee, and I asked a woman at the gas station how far it was to Monterey. She said she had never been outside of Crossville and I wondered how that could be possible. Sad, really. I wish her many, many future travels.

After roaring into Monterey, we found Calfkiller Road, or 84, and wound our way back to Sparta. There was no traffic, incredibly warm temperatures for the middle of March, beautiful and incredibly scenery, and best of all, no law enforcement. The sheer drop offs just outside of Monterey kept my speed in check but just barely. It was fun, exhilarating, and an all around fantastic ride. I always find it a difficult job to decide when and what to take a picture of when I’m riding on a road like this. It’s hard to make a decision while riding as to what will be a great picture. Lots of times, after I stop, I realize the sun is in the wrong position, or the place where I stopped doesn’t have quite the right view, or something else. This time, I spotted what I thought was a very quaint, old fashioned white clapboard church with a little bell tower on top. It sat off on the right side of the road up on pretty little knoll. No sidewalk led to the front door, just a little gravel road 10 feet or so from the entrance. I got a few nice pictures and we motored off.

We got back to Sparta, threw back a Gentleman Jack or two and walked over to the Chinese buffet for dinner. It all worked well enough but so far the ride was only enjoyable. We hadn’t found anything that made the ride special or notable. Of course, I write this knowing full well that when I lived in Illinois, had I found anything even remotely resembling just about any of that day’s roads, that I would have been ecstatic. I guess that’s what happens after you live in Tennessee for a while. You/I get spoiled and I expect Cherohala-quality every time I do an overnighter. But, Friday’s ride gave the trip that little extra something that had me smiling, happy, feeling as though this ride was worthy of a blog post. It was the best ride because it was the most recent. The weather had been perfect. The company was fantastic, and I really got a chance to dual sport ride the way that dual sporting was meant to be. This morning I pulled the little Suzuki out of the garage and I power washed off the sand, dirt, and road grime. I cleaned and lubed the chain and put it back in its place and attached the battery tender. I’ll be back in a little more than 2 weeks. It seems like long time right now and I want to search out a lot more Tennessee roads. Take care and I hope we can ride soon.

I took my official motorcycle notebook with me. It’s been sitting on a shelf in my garage since the last time I used it which was June of 2004. That was before we moved to Nashville by about a few months. Al, Mark and I rode to the Dragon and we rode a good deal of Tennessee on that trip. I left my notes on the pad just as they were at the time. It’s kind of fun to read them now but I’ll focus on these old notes later. Right now I want to focus on just this event. I think I actually hit around 5 or 6 counties but since Putnam was in the center, I’ll call it that. I went on this ride alone because I couldn’t get anyone else to ride along. Must be my hygiene. Al had a stuck clutch cable on his Suzuki DR650. RB went to a concours in Georgia, and Isaac preferred to hang out with his girlfriend. So, it was me alone or no ride. When I took off, it was 50 degrees and I think the temps dropped as I got up on the Cumberland Plateau. It was nippy and I was glad I suited up appropriately. I should have added yet another layer.

I got to the Dipsy Doodle Restaurant in Double Springs around 1:30 and stopped for lunch. The very nice waitress brought me a catfish sandwich, cole slaw and fries along with an unsweet iced tea. Very nice and it was a good rest. I spent about 30 minutes writing in the official motorcycle notebook. I got there by blasting down I-40 to Linwood Lane where I hopped onto 141. This is a gem of a road and I followed it all the way to the Center Hill Dam at which point it connects with Highway 96. I took that up to a back road that headed east and that escorted me to the Dipsy Doodle on 70 North. For some reason, Tennessee has three roads that are numbered 70, one is north, one is south and I think one is in between. They all run parallel to each other and I’m sure it causes heartburn to lots of non-Tennesseans but then, these roads weren’t build for out of  staters, at least not primarily. But, back to 141. It is a fantastic ride as it races along creeks and rivers. Rock walls run along side it as it dips, rolls, drops and rises for about 20 or 30 miles. There are some great views of little hidden valleys surrounded by steep hills that are just now turning green and some of the trees are flowering. The creeks are swollen from the spring rains and the bright sunshine sparkled on the water bringing out beautiful mountain water turquoises and golds from the rocky bottom. I connected with the Caney Fork River for a while and got close to a fantastic red tailed hawk that jumped out of a tree and slowly flapped his way up into the sky. As he did, his tail was completely unfolded in a fan shape and I caught its full brick red color. I always find seeing these beautiful animals to be thrilling no matter how many times they cross my path.

I had a hard time, however, finding county maps, which was high on my list of things to do on this trip because I wanted to identify good dual sporting roads. Although I was on the Triumph, I plan to come back and run some dual sport rides soon. It would be a much closer destination than Tellico Plains and we could get there in a day, ride for hours, spend the night and ride again the next day. I noticed that one church advertised free directions and maps to those who were lost. I declined the invitation, smiled and motored onward but without my maps. And, as I was riding along, it occurred to me that I forgot my toiletry bag. So, I added a Walgreens to my mental list of places where I needed to stop. Not many other motorcycles out that day. All I saw were a big GS, 4 sportbikes at the Linwood gas station, and a Harley. Slim pickings but Saturday’s beautiful weather changed all of that.

After lunch, I was in Cookeville and I threaded my way through it’s comparatively urban environment. I found a Walgreens and bought my toothbrush and toothpaste and, lucky me, they had county maps. I got one for Putnam County and Cumberland County next door. I then rode over  to a little state park called Burgess Falls. It seemed all locked down for the season so I sat at a picnic table and perused my cartographic treasures. To my dismay, they do not identify unpaved roads! And, of course, somehow my Tennessee Gazatteer map disappeared. I’m sure my son is a suspect but I can never seem to prove anything. I’ll either have to find the Gazatteer or buy a new one. After a quick break at the park, I got back on highway 135 and headed south and east. This a terrific road and after a detour, I ended up on highway 84, also called Calfkiller Road. This should be on every motorcyclists list of roads to enjoy. It’s a mountain road and it twists, turns, rises and rolls with the best of them. There was almost no traffic on it and I just smiled the entire time. I think this is one of those highways motorcyclists will never tire of; it’s made for multiple runs.

So, to finish up what has become an overly long post, I decided that my mission for the next day was to head back to Cookeville, find a dealership or two, and grill them for where the good dual sport roads are located. I had breakfast at the Donuts All Day restaurant, which was very good by the way, and zipped over on the interstate. Funny, it took around 15 minutes on the superslab and around 2 or 3 hours yesterday. Odd how that happens. I finally found the Kawasaki dealer in Cookeville (Midstate Motorsports) and went in a bought a hat. I asked my question and lo and behold, no one there seemed able to help me out. I find this more than a bit strange as they sell dual sport motorcycles, right? One very pleasant fellow, though, promised to give my name and e-mail address to a professor at Tennessee Tech, located there in town, who is supposedly an avid KLR rider. I told the fellow that I was a professor at Vanderbilt and I would love to hear from him. We’ll see how this goes. I really do hope he contacts me. I left and decided to check out J & J Cycles north of town to see if he could add any information.

All I’m going to say is that thanks to J at the shop (I assume there must be another J), I was pointed toward Highway 135. This road is another hidden Tennessee treasure. I was in heaven all the rest of the day as I found curve after curve, beautiful view after beautiful view, and non-stop fun. I hooked up with highway 56 which took me down to 290. Each one of these roads gets better than the next. Great hills, very little traffic, and occasional gravel in the curves kept me focused, smiling, and setting up for the next curve. I had hoped to find a motel in Gainesboro but there are none. I guess the closest thing would be to stay in Cookeville and use that as a base of departure. 290 ended at 53 and after heading a bit south, I found 96 and stayed on it the whole time with a brief interlude of 70N. I found myself back at Center Hill Dam and so I reunited with 141 and enjoyed it all the way back to Lebanon where I finished the ride off on I-40 back into Nashville. Great ride; I need to go back and scout out several of the other roads there and I definitely need to find the unpaved roads. That may take a bit of detective work but I think it can be done. Take care all; let me know if you are reading these posts. And more importantly, join me for a ride for cryin’ out loud!