Big Trains and Little Ones and a Talk with a WWII Vet

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Today I went to visit a model railroad club in Hendersonville North Carolina. It is one of those places that I found while web surfing. (Thanks again, Al Gore for "taking the initiative in creating the Internet.") It caught my eye as a place that is historic -- it is located in a 1902 railroad depot, and is related to engineering, my profession. Busman's holiday anyone?

Hendersonville is easy to get to from home, taking mostly well-paved two and four-lane roads. There is some city traffic at both ends to contend with, however. My plan is to take a few lesser-traveled roads, and to photograph a railroad trestle I spotted a few days ago when I went out for a quick evening ride.

Here is the route I had planned for the day.

The trestle is located parallel to Saluda Dam Road at the Pickens/Greenville County line and runs over the Saluda River. It is quite rusty, but is used every day. A train is just passing when I ride up. I hurriedly stop and pull out my camera to get a shot -- just as the last car goes out of sight. Oh well, maybe another one will come by while I am here.

I wander along the highway bridge and take a few pictures. There is a house down near river level with quite a number of "collectables" in the yard.




There is also evidence, in the form of additional concrete piers, of another bridge having been across the river.


Perhaps this was an earlier highway bridge, replaced in 1980 by the one I am standing on. The Shadow standing over the bridge's date stamp.


The track that runs over this trestle is the same line that runs through downtown Easley, carrying both freight and passengers.

On the other side of the road, is Saluda Dam.



This is a small hydroelectric plant constructed in 1905 by Duke Power Company. It is now owned by North Brook Energy, LLC.

Others have posted photographs of this trestle. Here are a couple entitled Trestle of Rust by their photographer, powerwasher on Flickr.


He almost makes the photos look like paintings. There are other good pictures of sights around the area in his albums.

Here are a couple of photos by bearden82 on Panoramio.



He, too, has a lot of good area pics.

Alas, no other trains cross the trestle while I am there, so I continue my trip. After I reach US-25, I turn north and follow it across the North Carolina line. The road is uphill for quite a long distance, though it is four lanes and easy to ride.

Photo by M.OZ on Panoramio.

The fall colors have given way to mostly brown here at this elevation. It is still pretty, though not multi-colored as it was a few weeks back.

I trek onward to NC-225, not far from Lake Summit that I wrote about a few weeks ago when I was "dual-sporting." This route takes me through the small town of Flat Rock, a mostly retirement and tourist-oriented town.

On the north side of Flat Rock, it says that 225 ends. I am puzzled by this, as I thought it went right into Hendersonville. I stop and study the Google map to no avail. I decide to continue on business US-25 and I find myself in Hendersonville within ten seconds. I guess Flat Rock and Hendersonville don't have any space between them.

I follow the map to the train depot on Maple Street and scope out possible parking places. I like to find a spot that is protected from auto damage yet visible. I decide to circle around the depot, so I cross the tracks and follow Boxcar Street, which I find has a short stretch of gravel, potholes, and mud. Before getting to the bad spot, there is a good place to take a picture of the track side of the depot.


I edge through the gravel and mud and come back to Maple Street again. I pick a spot on the sidewalk near the building, park, take off my gloves and helmet, set my alarm and head for the entrance.

My sometime riding companion, who I picked up in Lawrenceville Georgia, has decided to stay with the bike again today. You can just barely see him sitting there on the seat behind my gloves.


Note that my right turn signal has fallen off. I must have bumped it on something.

The depot is nicely restored on the outside. I go inside and find it attractive as well.

A little history from the club's website:

"The current structure...is actually the second station.... The first station was built shortly after the Southern Railway reached Hendersonville as a narrow gauge line late in June 1879. This was ten years after Coast-to-Coast service was established through Ogden Utah. The first station for all practical purposes was a duplicate of the Saluda station, which still stands in that village. By 1902 the station proved to be too small to handle the ever increasing traffic and was moved across the tracks, North of 7th Avenue where it was used as a Freight house for many years.

"The present station was started in 1902. Originally it was 87 feet long and consisted of two waiting rooms (a white and a black), an Agents Office, indoor plumbing, and a freight or Railway Express Office. The total cost of construction was $2613.00 which included three coats of heavy oil-based paint. In 1906 15’ feet was added to each end of the station to provide a Ladies waiting room, and more baggage handling space. A few years later an open pavilion was added to the North end of the station to provide an additional covered waiting area. This addition was still not enough to handle the crowds of customers. On some Saturday mornings, especially during the summer, between 500-600 young campers waited for the train to come up the Saluda Grade for their return trip home. When the train arrived it would disgorge approximately another 500-600 young campers for the next camping session.

"In 1916 another 50 feet was added to the roofed over, open pavilion waiting area making it 75 feet long and reaching all the way to 7th Avenue. Soon after the last passenger service ended in 1968, this open pavilion became the unofficial unemployment office for the City of Hendersonville.

"In its heyday, a 22,000 gallon water tank stood on the other side of the tracks with underground pipes to two stand pipes in between Track #1 and #2, just far enough apart for two Mikado steam locomotives to be serviced at the same time. At its peak, six passenger trains a day stopped in Hendersonville collecting and discharging passengers for our City, while making their way from as far away places as Cincinnati and Charleston.

"[The adjoining] track is still claimed to be the steepest Class #1 railroad in the United States [having a] 600’ elevation [change] in less than 3 miles between Saluda and Melrose. While passenger service ended in 1968, thousands of tons of freight, particularly coal and wood chips, traveled over these tracks and through the Hendersonville station with as many as 6-7 trains a day up until 2002. At that time the current owners, Norfolk Southern Railroad, elected to re-route trains South by selecting different routes thereby by-passing Hendersonville. Except for occasional local deliveries to area industries the tracks at the Hendersonville Station sit quietly beside the station providing a nostalgic reminder of the hustle and bustle of years gone bye.

"While the station still belongs to the Norfolk Southern Railroad, it is leased to the City of Hendersonville who maintains the building. In the year 2000, the building was registered by the North Carolina Historical Society as a Historical Landmark commemorating its long and useful history in serving the public and residents of Henderson County."

I take off more of my gear, leaving my tee shirt and leather pants and stow the rest on a bench. Since it has been cold this morning, all the stuff I had on fills the bench up completely. I approach one of the club members, a fellow named Bob. He says he is a modeler himself. His working career was spent mostly in the information technology (IT) field, from mainframes on down. I ask him about the club's origins and activities.

He says the Apple Valley Model Railroad club was formed many years ago and moved into the depot in 1992. The building had not been occupied for some forty years, was complete with pigeon droppings, and had been vandalized. They have an agreement with the city that they can use the building as long as they are open to visitors every Saturday between 10 AM and 2 PM.

Why is it called Apple Valley, you ask? Well, this area is known for its fine and varied crop of apples. In fact, they host the North Carolina Apple Festival right here in Hendersonville every September. It is quite a nice celebration; with the streets filled with vendors and all the stores open.

The club's first layout in this building was built shortly after occupying the depot. That section represents the general Asheville North Carolina area. A second phase of the layout was built between 2005 and 2008. The overall layout dimensions are 18 x 100 ft (0.3 scale miles x 1.6 scale miles), 1700 ft (28 scale miles) of track, and 225 turnouts (switches for you non-train readers). The trains are controlled by Digital Command Control (DCC), a system that allows multiple trains to run on the same track with individual control by several "engineers" at once. The scenery has taken thousands of hours to complete.

The club is getting ready to rebuild the oldest section of the layout to freshen it up and improve reliability. Today, several members are priming pieces of lumber and sheets of plywood to reduce the effects of temperature and humidity changes.

I also meet Terry, another member. He says he is a fellow motorcyclist, riding a Kawasaki Vulcan for about a year now. He asks me about learning to ride, so I tell him about the MSF Basic Rider's and Total Control classes I have taken. He happens to give a talk to visitors about the Saluda Grade, and he was interested in my blog entry about it. By the way, the tracks that run by this depot continue over to Saluda, so they are seldom used any more because The Grade is no longer in operation.

Here are some shots of the layout.


A large articulated locomotive, frequently used in mountainous areas to haul heavy freight.


A roundhouse and turntable.


The Saluda North Carolina Station looks like the real one,

though the real station in Saluda has been moved from its original trackside location to this spot across the street and perpendicular to the tracks.

Some of the members operating their trains.


Real looking water in this lake.


A logging crane.


A great, curved wooden trestle.


The club has set up a kid-height layout that they can operate themselves. This little lady was controlling Thomas the Tank engine,...

while a pair of twins were controlling Emily, another engine.

You can see how fast Thomas is going -- he's just a blur. Note the authentic Chick-Fil-A billboard in the upper picture with its the suicidal cow.

Do remember my little riding buddy? Well, he's created a bit of a stir outside, as related by a couple of people in the depot who recognize that I must be the motorcycle rider whose bike is parked there. Apparently they stopped to take a closer look at my friend, and my proximity sensor caused the bike alarm to squawk at them. I wish I had seem their reactions. I'll bet my buddy enjoyed the little trick, too.

Outside is this bright red caboose.


As I prepared to leave, I see an older gentleman, two ladies and a younger man are walking up the sidewalk. The gentleman asks me a few questions about my bike. As I describe it to him, the others go along ahead to see the trains. As she walked away his wife turned to be and says, "You'll need to just walk away from him, because he'll talk your arm off."

It turns out that the man's name is Carl, he is eighty eight years young, and lives in Greenville South Carolina, maybe fifteen miles from where I live. Ordinarily, I would not call someone who is significantly my senior by his first name, but in almost all cases in this blog, I use only a first name to preserve the privacy of the people about whom I write. That is the case here, too, so Carl it shall be.

For some reason, Carl asks me if I know the significance of the date December seventh. I answer that I do. At that, Carl begins to tell me about some of his life. It turns out that Carl was in the military and was stationed at Pearl Harbor beginning on December 4, 1941, when he was about twenty years old.

On the morning of the seventh, his squad was positioned somewhere that he could see Hickam Army Airfield, but not the harbor. He and his unit were doing practice exercises where half of the troops were designated blue, the other half red. They were to fight mock battles to prepare them for possible action.

He says he spotted planes that were flying over the harbor, painted with the Japanese rising sun on their sides. He thought they were part of the exercise and pointed them out to his squad saying, “Those are the enemy, boys.” He says he did not immediately realize that they were indeed enemy attackers, even after they began to drop bombs on the airfield.

He telephoned his superior to tell him that there had been a mistake – that the planes participating in the exercise were bombing our own planes on the airfield. His superior, apparently not aware of the bombing that had begun, accused Carl of being drunk. Carl placed the call a second and third time as other waves of planes came in, finally convincing his superior that these were really the enemy. They were ordered to shoot them down if they could.

Carl also spoke of their having been warned of a possible invasion from the sea. Some time after the bombings, his squad noticed something bobbing in the surf. It struck him that it appeared to be only one invader rather than a larger group. Carl took a pistol shot at this invader, but he continued to bob in the surf. He says that he knew he wasn’t that bad a shot to have missed, but next took a rifle and shot at the intruder again. This, too, did not dispatch the enemy. Carl then took a bayonet, waded and swam out into the surf and speared his target – which turned out to be floating debris from the bomb carnage.

After the war, Carl had a bad case of survivor’s guilt – why had he survived and so many others had not? An officer explained to him that there are no victors if no one returns from war. Carl says he had never considered that, and has been able to reconcile his guilt as a result.

After the war ended, Carl and his wife moved to California and bought a new car and a house trailer. They proceeded to circumnavigate the United States, heading east in the southern states, then north in the eastern states, and west in the northern states, back to California. Carl's marriage produced a daughter who he affectionately called Baby Angel.

Carl relates that one evening on his way home from work, he had an automobile accident that resulted in his being in a coma for twenty-eight days. When he awoke, he found that his wife and baby were not with him. He did not say why they had left him, but some thirty plus years later, he received a call from a woman in California seeking her father. He called her by the affectionate name Baby Angel as a test. He said her whoop of joy could almost have been heard without use of the telephone. She subsequently visited him and he her -- for a long-delayed reunion.

I am glad I stopped to let Carl "talk my arm off." Otherwise, I would not have gotten to hear his first-hand account of these significant events in his life, some of which have helped preserve my liberty and freedom.

After Carl leaves to rejoin his family, I chat for a few minutes with a former Marine, probably about forty years old, who is a member of the model train club, and whose car sports a conservative bumper sticker. He speaks passionately about how wrong and arrogant most of our politicians are, with their tax and spend, divisive, anti-U.S. military posture. He shakes his head as we part, indicating his extreme dissatisfaction with their behavior, and vows to encourage others to vote them out. He is another patriot who helped and continues to help preserve my freedom.

I am about ready to jump on the bike when I see one more thing: A vanity license plate with a good sentiment.


This fellow also displays a Blue Ridge Parkway sticker in his rear window.



Well, I have to get started for home pretty soon. I call my bride and explain where I am and why I have been detained. She says she understands -- I tend to take longer when I am out on a ride than I expect, so she has heard this before. At least she knows I am safe.

Oh. One more thing. I go back into the depot and beg for a piece of duct tape to fix my turn signal. Terry shows his generosity by offering me his entire roll. I decline his offer but elect to take a few inches of the tape instead. Duct tape fixes almost anything.

Finally, I take the same route home, stopping at an interesting church in Flat Rock, The Episcopal Church of St. John in the Wilderness. Built as a private chapel in 1833, it is nestled into a very wooded site, literally surrounded by its graveyard.


Better heed this sign.


It would be interesting to spend some time reading epitaphs here.

I don't tarry long at the church, so I turn south and retrace my path. I intend to cut off US-25 and take Gap Creek Road down to SC-11. This is a curvy secondary road that has some nice views. You can see some pictures and a description here.

Unfortunately, I blow right past it, and the divided highway makes it impossible to turn around in a short distance. I decide to go on down to Route 11, then jog over to SC-8, Pumpkintown, and SC-135 to home. After I get on 11, I go a little beyond Route 8 to the Table Rock State Park Visitor Center. I like the view from here, and take a few pictures.

I go back a ways to the corner where Aunt Sue's Country Corner is located, turn right there on New Hope Road, meet SC-135, and go home. This is my actual route.

Today, I have ridden only 116.5 miles, but it has been an enjoyable day.



Other attractions near Hendersonville North Carolina:

The Western North Carolina Air Museum. Lots of historic aircraft can be seen here.

Hendersonville Antique Toy Museum. All the toys you remember when you were a kid -- and more.

Writer and poet Carl Sandberg's Home, Connemara, Flat Rock, NC.

Paddling on the Saluda River.



More Pearl Harbor information:

Pearl Harbor Raid, 7 December 1941
Japanese Navy Type 97 Carrier Attack Plane ("Kate") flies high over Hickam Army Air Field during the attack. Pearl Harbor is in the background, with smoke rising from burning ships off Ford Island and at the Navy Yard.
Photographed from a Japanese plane.
Official U.S. Navy Photograph, now in the collections of the National Archives.
Photo #: 80-G-21218


Pearl Harbor Attack, 7 December 1941
Torpedo planes attack "Battleship Row" at about 0800 on 7 December, seen from a Japanese aircraft. Ships are, from lower left to right: Nevada (BB-36) with flag raised at stern; Arizona (BB-39) with Vestal (AR-4) outboard; Tennessee (BB-43) with West Virginia (BB-48) outboard; Maryland (BB-46) with Oklahoma (BB-37) outboard; Neosho (AO-23) and California (BB-44).
West Virginia, Oklahoma and California have been torpedoed, as marked by ripples and spreading oil, and the first two are listing to port. Torpedo drop splashes and running tracks are visible at left and center.
White smoke in the distance is from Hickam Field. Grey smoke in the center middle distance is from the torpedoed USS Helena (CL-50), at the Navy Yard's 1010 dock.
Japanese writing in lower right states that the image was reproduced by authorization of the Navy Ministry.
U.S. Naval History and Heritage Command Photograph.
Photo #: NH 50931


Pearl Harbor attack information on the Shipwreck Central website.

Google map of Pearl Harbor, USS Arizona Memorial, and Hickam Field. The airfield is almost directly south of the Arizona Memorial pushpin.

Timeline of the days before and after December 7, 1941.

Pearl Harbor Raid Attacks on Airfields and Aerial Combat.
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Old Esso Filling Station Near Landrum, SC

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September 19, 2009, about a month and a half ago.

It was a rainy Saturday, so I did not go out riding as I usually do. Instead, I went to work, then stayed around home and did some chores. After church and lunch out on Sunday, the afternoon rolled around, and I had a hankering to ride out to find a location that had been posted on the Carolina Riders Forum Tag Game under "SC Mountains/Greenville-Spartanburg."

If you are not familiar with a Tag Game, the rules of this one are as follows:

• Who ever is "it" takes a picture with his bike in the shot.
• The first person to find the location where the picture was taken, and take a picture with his bike in the same place becomes it and may now post a picture of his bike in a new location.
• All photos must be "fresh"... no using old files from previous trips.
  
• All photos must be taken in a publicly-accessible place.
• Your bike must be in the picture, but you don't have to be.
• You must take the picture yourself.
  
• If your tag has not been figured out in 1 week, you need to leave some more clues.
  
• If your tag has not been figured out in 2 weeks, replace it with a new tag.
  
• All tags must be within a 125-mile radius of the Holly Springs Country Store at the intersection of US-178 and SC-11.
  
• When you are claiming a tag, you need to post your picture and a description of the location.
  
• The first to post a picture of his bike at the correct location with a description becomes "it" and wins that tag.
• The prize for winning a tag is bragging rights and the ability to post the next tag location.

I know about where the tag photo had been taken, so I ask my wife if I might go out riding for a while. She takes pity on me since I had not been able to go out yesterday, so I get ready and off I go, at about 2:00. The weather still looks iffy, so, just in case, I take my rainsuit along.

By the way, the particular tag I am going to try to find had been posted by the originator of the tag game on this forum, a fellow who goes by the name of Stretch. Now Stretch probably got his name because he is a long drink of water, being about six foot, six inches tall, and pretty skinny.

This is Stretch's tag, with his bike in the picture:



Stretch gave the following clues:

• It is at a state line.
• Between a lake and a railroad track, although I don't think you can see them from here.
• If you can't tell, I really like these vintage gas stations.

I am afraid that someone else might get the tag before me since it had been posted about four days already.

I take this route over through Cleveland South Carolina and take the Greenville Watershed Road to Saluda North Carolina, about 46 miles from home. I have written about Saluda previously, including my first ride through there and the steeply-graded railroad whose crest is there.

I motor toward Tryon from Saluda, going down the Saluda Grade on US-176. It is quite curvy on the way down. I recall that the tag is along here, but I reach downtown Tryon and have not yet found it. Well, I either missed it or it is further along toward Landrum South Carolina. I decide to press onward, being the stubborn male that I am, not wanting to ask somebody. I keep looking, but reach the edge of Landrum without finding it.

By this time the weather is turning grayer. What do I do? Give up and go home or keep looking? I turn around and ride for a few minutes, then stop at an antique store to ask. I figure that someone in the antique business would likely know where a vintage gas station is located.

I stop, park, remove my helmet and gloves and walk into the store. I wait while they finish up with another customer, then swallow my pride and ask. The woman says she knows it is around here, but can't remember which way it is from here. She strides out the front door of her store and goes out to the street. She surveys the road in both directions, and pronounces the service station to be back a little ways toward Tryon, on the left side. I thank her, gear up, and head off that way.

It is no more than a mile up the road. How could I have missed it before? When I spot it, I see why: It is on the inside of a curve, so it wasn't as obvious when I went past before. I turn in, but there isn't much pavement in front of the station to park my bike on, and there is mud from the earlier rain. I plunge though it, sliding a little, but find a piece of ancient concrete to park on in about the same place where Stretch's bike was.

In order to get a good picture, I cross the road and capture this image.


The tag is mine as soon as I get home and post it, but I resist the urge to jump back on the bike and race home. As long as I am here, I might as well take a few more shots.

I peer through the front door and see this view. There are a few antiques inside.


I walk around the outside. It looks as though there is no gas today. Gasoline rationing, maybe?


The prices certainly look attractive at first, though compared with the income level then and today, the prices were quite high back then. Technology has brought down the price of fuel, despite heavy taxation nowadays.


...and they have a place to relieve yourself while you are getting your gas. It is just a short walk behind the station.


The seat looks a little rough. I don't think I'll use it.


Rear view.


Who is that in the window?


A close up of the front above the pump.


And the pump itself.


This type of gasoline dispensing pump worked by hand pumping fuel into the glass reservoir, reading the number of gallons on a scale on the side. Once the desired amount of fuel had been pumped up there, it was allowed to drain through the hose into the vehicle's fuel tank. They had not yet invented reliable and accurate dispensing meters in the teen years of the twentieth century, about the time this pump likely was new.

An overall view.


This building across the street from the filling station has a 1964 Chevrolet four-door hard top inside along with quite a collection of sports trophies.


The old station is located on US-176 just north of Landrum, about at the NC line (at pushpin "D" on the map). Note that Lake Lanier is to the west, and the closest point of the railroad is to the northeast.

Here is a Google Street View of the station:

View Larger Map

I ran across a blog entry by Garland Goodwin of Tryon that describes the filling station and its ownership. It reads, in part:

"...I learned that my friend Mack Henson was responsible [for restoring the Silver Springs filling station], I asked him to meet me there so I could learn more about it directly from him. As always, I learned more than I expected to.

"The 'Filling Station' was built c.1914 and operated for many years by Mack’s grandfather, Sherman S. McClure. He was known as 'S.S.' and probably named the station 'Silver Springs' because of his initials.

"The enclosed part of the building is original, but Mack replaced the canopy that extends to the original brick pillars because he thought it posed a danger to anyone walking under it.

"The [Esso] sign is oval because that was the shape of the gasoline tank on the semi-trailers that delivered gasoline to all the little Esso 'filling stations.' The trailers had the blue border and red 'Esso' lettering on the back end of the tank."

There is a picture of the station in its heyday on his web posting. This is a low-resolution version of the one in his blog.


After I have taken my pictures, I hightail it to Landrum, turn right on SC-14 and head toward Greenville. About the time I reach the CycleGear Store on Wade Hampton Boulevard (at pushpin "F" on the map), the heavens open up. I quickly turn into their parking lot and duck under the front canopy.

Someone in an SUV follows me in, rolls down his window, and says something that my earplugs and helmet prevent me from hearing. Once I take off my helmet and pry the earplugs out, he asks me if I am Bucky who wrote the leather cleaning article for Motorcycle Lifestyle Magazine. About that time, I recognize the fellow as the publisher of that magazine, Norm Blore. He has recognized the leathers I am wearing today as the ones that I wrote the article about. (They are getting a second washing today, like it or not.)

Here is a picture I took from across the street at the filling station with me in the picture, using my tripod and the camera's self timer.


We chat for a few minutes about motorcycling and his magazine. Because motorcycle sales are down so far, he is having some trouble getting advertisers to support his publication. He does a very professional job on the magazine: It is glossy in presentation, and he includes articles of interest to many types of riders. I try to pick up every issue that comes out.

In a little while he takes his leave, and I go into the store to browse and wait out the rain. I don't see anything I need (or want that badly to part with some moola) right now. Their sales personnel are always helpful but not pushy. I like that.

The rain stops except for a little drizzle, so I shrug on my rainsuit and mount up again. The ride home from there is wet from spray, but not too bad. I take it easy in case there is oil on the road.

It is about 6:30 when I finally reach home. I shed my suits, hang them to dry, then rush to upload my photo to the forum. I have some trouble resizing it small enough to be accepted. I want to hurry, lest someone else beats me to it. At last, it goes in.

I am the winner of bragging rights!

Here is a map of the entire trip today, about 114 miles:

View Larger Map

Later in the evening, I post a new tag:



This is at a place I rode to earlier in September. The clues I posted:

• This is a green location for all you tree huggers. There are lots of them to hug through here. And there is an environmental camp nearby to learn about what you are hugging.
• You don't need an off-road bike to get there, but it might help a little if there has been some rain.
• This is a way you could travel if you like going up to the head of Julius, but not back down.

You can see my trip report here to figure out where the photo was taken.

Well, my day has been pretty enjoyable. Church, dinner, a ride, a suit wash, and a tag won.



If you go:

Here is an overly-saturated photograph of the filling station. It was taken by someone who calls himself "The Mack" on the Digital Grin Photography Forum. Is he related to Mack Henson who owns the station? I'll try to find out.

Here is a page about Southeastern gasoline stations on Roadside Peek, a website that tells about roadside attractions.
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Lee Parks Total Control Advanced Rider Clinic

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I went to the Lee Parks Total Control Advanced Rider Clinic on Saturday, October 17. It looked interesting and educational, and I hoped to improve my confidence and skill level on the street.

The class is something I had thought about doing for some time -- maybe since I bought the Lee Parks book about a year and a half ago. It didn't appear that I would be able to take a class because they weren't offered very near South Carolina. They hold them near the Tail of the Dragon, about 150 miles from home, but I've not been there.



When I was cruising the 'net a few weeks ago, I clicked on the Total Control website and found that a class was to be offered by Total Rider Tech down in Lawrenceville Georgia. I did a quick Google map search and found that to be only 113 miles from home. I e-mailed their instructor Dave Ruocco to ask whether the class was for me -- my advanced age, two years of experience, 14,000 miles of street riding, and a desire to improve. I also asked if there was space in the class. He e-mailed back almost immediately saying that I was a good candidate for the class, and enumerated why he thought that was, generously omitting any reference to the advanced age part. ...and there was room in the class.

I excitedly asked my bride of thirty-four years if I could sign up. She mildly interrogated me on why I wanted to take the class, the cost, and when it was to take place. She said to go ahead and sign up!

I went back to the website, and, with shaking hands clutching my credit card, signed up for the October 17th class. I received confirmation that I was in.

Right after that, I e-mailed as many others as I could think of that I was going to the class, and would anyone like to go too. I also posted to a couple of forums that I was about to become more educated. A few days elapsed with some interest, but no takers.

A fellow who lives about thirty miles from me, and with whom I have ridden a couple of times, PMd me that he was interested and was going to sign up. He has about the same amount of experience as I, and we'd enjoyed riding together previously.

Plans were thus hatched to ride down the day before, spend the night and take the class the next day. I worked out a route that included several points of interest, as is my habit when riding: Ride a little, look a little, ride some more, look some more.

I packed my saddlebags, tail bag, and tank bag with everything I thought I might need. I watched the weather map closely as the day approached. It was to be cool and rainy on Friday morning, but cool and dry on Saturday. It looked ideal.

The Thursday before departure, my buddy called to say that his child was sick and that he would have to ride down later in the day. Rats. Well, I'll go on the original schedule and route anyway.

Friday dawned cool and a bit drizzly. I dress warmly in several synthetic layers, put on my balaclava, neck warmer, glove liners, winter gloves, and two-piece leather suit. I don't put on my rainsuit, as it is not raining enough to warrant it.

My Cortech saddlebags and tail bag, and my GTmoto magnetic tank bag contain enough for a few days on the road. I have an electric tire pump, motorcycle cover, and personal items all tucked away in an orderly manner, as you might expect any good engineer to do.



Note the bright vest. Studies have shown that a fluorescent vest dramatically increases the visibility of motorcyclists to other drivers. Good advice, and I need all the visibility I can get on this dreary day on the road. I stoke up the grip heaters and start out.

About the only issue is that the misting rain causes the helmet face shield to be harder to see through, but an occasional wipe with the glove and side-to-side head turns make that tolerable. I stay reasonably warm most of the way.

The route I planned to Lawrenceville and beyond is here.

I make my way down the mostly two-lane roads, occasionally stopping to look, eat a snack and hydrate, and to look at the map.

I stop at Hartwell Dam and walk for a few minutes to the top of it. It is overcast and windy, but I enjoy the exercise and the views. The dam, finished in 1963, holds back Lake Hartwell, and provides hydroelectric power as well as recreation and drinking water storage.

This is the view of the parking area from the top of the earthen dam. Only my lonely Ninja waits there today.


Distant view of the powerhouse from atop one side of the earthen dam.


View of switchgear from the top of the powerhouse.


I look over at the road bridge upon which I will shortly pass over the Savannah River just downstream of the dam.


Looking back at the parking lot. That tiny dot just to the left of the trees is my bike.


I remount and ride a little way to the bridge and walk out onto it for a picture of the face of the powerhouse.


On my way back to the bike I see a plaque behind the guardrail that says this bridge won an award for its beauty back in 1958 -- when I was eight! Now that I think about it, it is a graceful structure. Beauty is in the eye of the beholding engineer, right?


I ride further and pass through the little town of Colbert. There were some quaint buildings, an old fire truck, and a red caboose on display.



This wooden building shows evidence of mice -- they made a hole under the door, just like they do in the cartoons!



The afternoon clears a bit but is still cold. The sky and clouds are beautiful for a couple of hours. I stop for a potty break and take these pictures.




I motor on around Athens and find Waynesville, where the Iron Horse sculpture stands. What is that, you ask? It is a twelve foot high iron sculpture in the shape of a horse that was commissioned in 1954 by the University of Georgia. After an uproar that the college would place such an eyesore on its campus, it was moved to a field near Waynesville in 1959.

Photo by David Seibert on the GeorgiaInfo website.

I follow my directions out of town, but I cannot spot the horse. Maybe it isn't here any more, or is obscured by crops or brush. I stop and ask at a meat and three restaurant, but the guys eating inside didn't know what I was talking about. They also might be wondering where I dropped in from, dressed as I am. At least they didn't make any Mars comments. Anyway, I backtrack to Waynesville, and head toward Lawrenceville. After a few miles, I find my motel and check in.

I ask the clerk how to get to the Southeastern Railway Museum in Duluth. He makes a MapQuest map for me and I start out -- about twelve miles through city traffic. I find that the Atlanta suburbs are extremely busy, even at midday.

I follow the map, come to the right street, and turn in. [Watch the gravelly potholes and the diagonal railroad crossing, Bucky.] I successfully park in the gravel lot, and notice this little fellow laying face down nearby.



I walk cautiously toward him, making sure he will not be startled by my presence. I gently pick him up. He is mostly unscathed by his apparent face plant. I look around, but see no others who might be his friends, so I decide that he should be my riding companion for the rest of the day. I stuff his legs beneath the grab strap on my seat, and he seems content to wait for my return.

I take my tank bag off and undo its shoulder straps so I can carry it as a backpack. That is a nice feature of it, I think.

I pay my admission to the museum to an enthusiastic train aficionado who asks if I had recently been to the moon. I briefly explain the importance of protective gear, and at about that time, anther man walks up. Having overheard our conversation, he tells of his son-in-law who somehow laid his motorcycle down, hung on atop it for some distance apparently unhurt, only to hit another vehicle, rendering him unresponsive, and leading to his death. He was not wearing a helmet. I express my sympathy to the man. ATGATT helps prevent:



I enter the museum. It has quite a collection of rolling stock, locomotives, transit buses, and other stuff.

Savannah & Atlanta No. 750, a 4-6-2 light Pacific built in 1910 by ALCO, served on Florida East Coast's Miami-Key West line. It was sold to the Savannah and Atlanta Railway in 1935.


At left is the General II, a 1919 Baldwin 4-4-0 that was formerly at Stone Mountain Scenic Railroad east of Atlanta. At right is the Chattahoochee Valley #21 2-8-0 Consolidation Built in 1924 by Baldwin for Tennessee, Alabama & Georgia Railway passenger service. It was sold to Chattahoochee Valley Railroad in 1935; was in service until 1946; and in standby service until 1961.



Southern Railway E8 passenger diesel no. 6901, built in 1950


I have satisfied my thirst for trains today, and decide to leave. I ask another volunteer how long it would take to get to Stone Mountain, another Atlanta tourist destination. He says it would be about an hour and a half at this time of day, so I decide to go back to the motel and wait for my buddy who is coming down later. The traffic is heavier now. I don't think I would like to live in an area that is so busy.

My buddy calls me and we arrange to meet and have supper. The nearby O'Charley's restaurant is easy to get to, so we go there -- just a few minutes away despite the traffic. We pray for blessing, safety, and open minds before the meal. While we dine, we bring each other up to date on what has been happening in our lives. Fortunately, we are both still working -- that is saying something nowadays with the mess the economy is in -- and our families are well.

After supper, we ride a few miles to the church where the class is to be held tomorrow to make sure we can find it in the morning. After that, we part company and ride back to our rooms. I have ridden about two hundred miles all together on the way down and around today.

I secure my bike in a dry place for the night, turn in early, and sleep well.



I arise, and see that is still dry where I parked my bike. ...and my new passenger still seems content too. (We have been careful not to soil the carpeting.)

Idress and go for the breakfast in the motel lobby. I must say that this is the first time I have eaten Frosted Flakes with a fork, for they have run out of spoons. I slurp down the extra milk right from the bowl, then walk back to my room, move the bike outside again, and finish loading it.

I find the church easily thanks to our after-supper scouting trip. It isn't raining, but is quite cold -- about 40 degrees. I am the first student to arrive. Two men greet me and introduce themselves. Dave Ruocco, the teacher from Milwaukee, and Michael Buffington, the local assistant. This was to be the first such class in the Atlanta area, so they had a lot of pre-class planning to do. The are putting up the rain canopy, windbreaks, and plugging in the large monitor for the video presentations.

Dave Ruocco's biography from the Total Rider Tech website:

Dave started training riders in 1995 as an MSF Rider coach in Minnesota. Since then he has introduced over 1300 students to the excitement of motorcycling. Dave has also become heavily involved in training students on the racetrack as well. He is currently an instructor for Private Track Time and has coached across the United States as an instructor for the Buell Inside Pass program. After taking Total Control in 2005, he quickly signed up to become a certified TCARC instructor and currently teaches ARCs across the Midwest. When not teaching motorcycling, he is a stay-at-home dad, busy raising his two young sons while practicing law.

Michael Buffington is a thirty-eight year old rider and amateur racer from Lawrenceville.

One by one, the other students arrive, six in all. That is good -- a small class ought to allow us to get more instruction and to allow more practice on the range.

My buddy rides a Honda VFR. Another fellow who I had communicated with before the class rides in on a new Ninja 650R. The others have Harleys and a BMW.

We start out with some introductions and an overview of what we are to hear and do this day:
an intro to trail braking, quite a bit of curve negotiation including weight shifting (hanging off), then a session on suspension setup.

Ruocco is a good speaker and a skilled rider, though he had a serious spill in May and his back is held together with several rods so he cannot ride yet. Buffington is the demonstrator and both of them give feedback on the range exercises.

The day starts out cold, but then turns rainy as well. I am wearing almost all of the clothing I packed. My arms are a bit stiff as a result. The temperature stays in the mid-40s, and the rain doesn't stop for long. I am cold, with no place to get warm. We are concerned about traction, and time is wasted between exercises warming up tires.



The proper corning steps are a key part of the training. There are ten, according to Parks:

1. Reposition foot -- to give clearance at lean.
   
2. Pre-position body -- Centerline of body moved to the inside of the centerline of the bike, well before the turn.
3. Push on the outside grip -- To prevent the bike from turning in because of the body prepositioning.
4. Locate turn point.
5. Look through the turn.
6. Relax outside grip -- To allow gravity to pull your off-center body and bike into the turn.
7. Push on inside grip -- Use only the inside arm to control steering correction. Outside arm is relaxed. This is the most important point.
8. Roll on throttle -- For stability and to straighten the bike up coming out of the turn.
9. Push outside grip -- To help the throttle get the bike upright.
10. Move back to neutral -- Only after the turn exit.

They have us practice this on our stationary bike with other students controlling the lean angle, then put us to work on the range. We practice in one direction around the cone circle, then the other. After that is two turns in a row in the same direction, and two successive turns in opposite directions.

For me, there is too much info given in the time allotted, and I could use about twice the number of range repetitions for each exercise. Perhaps a two-day class would be better.

I am thinking that I am doing poorly on the range exercises, though my [possibly benevolent] friend said later that he thought he saw improvement in my riding as the day went on.

The suspension setup instruction is good, but the time might be better used for more range practice. Only one of the bikes can be adjusted either because the others don't have adjustments or because the proper tools are not available to do so. Parks' book tells how to do it anyway.

We all get certificates near the end, so I suppose I have passed. Maybe I am too impatient with myself, but if I am to get any benefit from this class, I will have to set up the range layouts somewhere in a parking lot and practice, practice, practice. That is probably good advice for anything new I am learning anyway.

The class ends about 5:30 and I pack the bike for the ride home. I don my rainsuit over everything else, along with my reflective vest, and head out to the streets. This time I make a beeline to Interstate 85 and go home that way. It is certainly shorter and faster, but some of the trucks can be intimidating with their speed and bulk compared to my little Ninja.

About half way home, at the Georgia-South Carolina border, I stop for a rest break, but I have to ask someone to help me get my one-piece rainsuit off and back on because I cannot manage it by myself. (It is almost an emergency by the time I find someone to help.) I am sure the guy thinks I am nuts to be out riding on a night like this. Hmmmmm. That may be true. Do others manage a one-piece rainsuit alone?

The two and a half hour ride home is cold, rainy, and very fatiguing. The bike is dirty, but has performed flawlessly all the way.


Well, not much has gone the way I had hoped it would this weekend. I am discouraged about that. Did I waste the $300 class fee and other expenses?

I'll let you know in a year or so.



If you go:

RailGa Southeastern Railway Museum Page

Stone Mountain Park

Iron Horse
Iron Horse
Iron Horse
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Visit to a Kids Home

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This is a short post with only one picture, and that one is not my work. Rather, it is by someone I visited. The trip today was worthwhile in many ways. You see, our church riding group arranged to visit a nearby childrens' home that houses kids whose ages range from infant through eighteen.

We are going to visit two groups of kids. The first are between infant and about four years old, the second from five to nine.

The home houses kids in so called cottages, though that is something of a misnomer. The cottages are actually substantial buildings with home-style living rooms, bedrooms, and kitchens. There are house parents who care for the kids in as close a setting to home life as possible. They do things together just as a family would.

The little ones come out first. There are about six of them. We immediately notice that they are polite and well behaved. Remember that these children come from various backgrounds and family situations. Some of them may have been hurt or neglected; yet here they were asking us for permission to sit on our motorcycles, and to don our helmets and gloves. Once they had done so, each one thanked us. Pictures were taken for their scrapbooks.

Next, the older children came out of their cottage. They too enjoyed sitting on the bikes and trying on the gear. We played with them a little, pretending that the helmet had become stuck on their heads and asking why the fingers on their small hands didn't reach to the ends of the gloves. Interestingly, all of the kids wanted the visor on the helmet to be closed for his picture. I guess they wanted to look like real bikers. Again, every one asked permission and thanked us afterward.

We took modest individual gift bags for them -- mostly snacks and school supplies. You would have thought we had given them bags of gold. They ooood and ahhhd and carefully looked over every item in the bags.

Later, we toured their cottages. Each child proudly showed off his room and a few of his belongings. Some of them were still looking over the contents of their bags when we had to leave.

The staff is hard working and labor for low pay. Their dedication is apparent in the way they treat their charges, and speak enthusiastically about them. Their work is a true ministry. This is literally true: Although none of the people we met is a minister, all who work there are Christians who are showing these kids the love God and Christ Jesus has for each of us.

Not all of these children will be success stories, but this little ministry in South Carolina will certainly help them through a tough time in their short lives.

By the way, the home is called Miracle Hill. This is because it is located on a hilltop, but it is also because a severe storm was headed for the home during a particularly critical construction day. Prayers were said and the storm miraculously parted and went on either side of the construction site. A worker who was helping that day called this Miracle Hill, and the name has stuck.

They have other ministries as well: A boys' shelter, several rescue missions, a shelter for battered women and children, monthly grocery provision for hindreds of families, addiction recovery, and several thrift stores. They can use your help in many ways: donations, work, and prayer.

The president and CEO of the ministry wrote a book about the repeated provision of God over the years that it has been in operation. It is entitled God Wears His Own Watch, Glimpses of God & Answered Prayer at Miracle Hill, by Reid Lehman. The title refers to the fact that God provides on His timetable, not man's. It is a quick and inspiring read and you can get a copy on Amazon.

We were touched and blessed by these kids and their temporary parents. One of them, a budding artist named Zachary, made a sketch of two of us and presented it to me. I think you will agree that it is a nearly perfect likeness of both of us.

Thank you Zachary and all the others. You made our day.
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650R = Dualsport for a Day?

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My ride today is on a long-shot route. I had looked at the map and saw a road that appeared to go from US-276 north of Caesars Head toward the east, meeting US-25. Google Maps shows that it goes through, but Google has been known to be quite wrong about the actual locations of roads in the western North Carolina region.

Nevertheless, I start out to see whether I am on a wild goose chase. I had planned to go at this road from the east, starting out by going up to Saluda North Carolina along the Greenville Watershed road (Old US-25), then turning west on US-176, meeting US-25 south, then exiting onto the road in question, Green River Road.

At the last minute, I decide to go from the other direction. The road from the south of Caesars Head is twisty and steep, while the road to Saluda is mostly sweepers and far less steeply graded. I am still a bit skittish on downhill tight turns, so up toward Caesars Head is the better way to go for me today. By the way, I don't totally avoid the tight downhill turns in my riding, and sometimes I can't avoid them, but right now I don't feel quite up to tackling them.

As I begin to go on my way, I pass a peculiar sight that I must show you. There is a fellow who has set up a sign to advertise his Bush Hogging business. He used an old mowing implement, painted up nicely in bright red, with a couple of pieces of angle iron and a sheet metal backing to hold his sign. Pretty clever and eye catching, I'd say. He must have had to wait for the sign to be painted, because the mower sat there for some weeks with no sign in place, but recently it appeared. It looks very professional and should draw the attention of those who might need his services.



The peculiar thing though is the way he attached his new sign to the steel back plate. Look closely:



Yep, those are plastic pants hangers -- seven of them, in various lengths, to be exact. Hmmmmm. I guess it is functional, and it got my attention. Maybe that is his idea to get more calls.

After I examine this fine sign, I continue on my trip today. I motor up SC-135 through Pumpkintown, then SC-8 and US-276 to the top of Caesars Head. I only stop a minute there to take a slug of the G2 version of Gatorade to maintain the all-important hydration. By the way, this vile tasting stuff is supposed to replace vital electrolytes, but I certainly don't like the way it goes down.

I continue north on US-276, but cannot find Green River Road. I spot a fire station on the right, just down Cascade Lake Road, with a dirt bike out front, so I figure that someone there ought to know how to find the road -- and maybe I can meet a fellow biker. As I park, a man comes out to see what I want. At first he seems slightly irritated that I have stopped in the parking area. Maybe he thinks that the bike might be in the way of the firefighting equipment should it be called. It turns out that the fellow is a volunteer firefighter, though not the one who owns the dirt bike. He says he rides a big cruiser, though. I ask him how to find my road.

He is a talkative sort, and tells me all about it. Actually, the road I want is a continuation of Reasonover Road, which turns to the right just fifty yards from where we stand. He adds, however, that about four miles down that road where Green River Road starts, it turns to gravel...and into one lane. He ruminates a minute and opines that with the recent rain, it might be rutted and difficult for me on my Ninja.

Too, he says, there is a summer camp that could be changing campers, and the road may be busy today -- a relative thing I suppose out here on a partly-gravel country road. He wants to make sure I have the right directions, so he repeats them for me. That's OK; as I am getting more forgetful as I age. He also tells of another way to bypass the gravel road, but that way ends up in Hendersonville North Carolina, further north than I want to go today.

I decide to go at least as far as the gravel and see what the surface looks like. The road on the way is well-paved and curvy with several places where little hills make it difficult to tell which way the road turns on the other side. I ride slow and steady so I don't misjudge.

I finally reach Green River Road. It is indeed unpaved, but the majority of the surface looks smooth with some gravel outside the car tracks. It is a little wider than one lane. I proceed. I get into my best gravel-riding stance: Weight on my pegs, loose grip on the bars, look ahead, and go slow in first gear.

Less than half a mile from the start of the gravel, I pass the summer camp the fire fighter told me about. It is the Green River Preserve. They have camps here aimed toward "environmental" activities. I think that means that they go out into the woods and look around while learning about what they are looking at.



As I continue, I note that I am roughly paralleling a river -- the Green River, I deduce, using my keen intellect. Remember, this is Green River Road I am on. There are some deep valleys through here, though surprisingly the road does not have many hills and dales. All of the surroundings are heavily wooded, so there are no long views, just a pleasant road through a quiet and secluded place.

Isn't it wonderful that our scooters can take us to places like this? I get a thrill out of going places that not everyone has gone or can go. This road is certainly not the most out of the way place in the area, but the gravel keeps lots of people from coming this way. If I had a dirt or dualsport bike, I would be able to get further "away," but for today, this is a good start that I am enjoying quite a lot.

After a mile or so, I get a little more used to the gravel, so I shift into second gear and go a bit faster. The road condition remains about the same as it started out -- easily passable with some care.

A bridge appears, crossing over the Green River. The river rocks provide a pretty picture.


...and slightly further on...



At a few places along the way I stop and snap more pictures. After four miles of gravel have disappeared beneath my wheels, I emerge -- at the corner of Bear Paw Ridge Road -- onto a paved road surrounded by farm land.



I am at once glad that the gravel part is over, but I feel a minor sense of accomplishment at having come through it.

The road on this side of the gravel section is not quite as hilly as on the other side, so I go along at a pretty good clip. I am a little cautious at first, as my tires might still have some mud on them.

Once I reach US-25, I take it north to the US-176 exit and turn toward Saluda. I have never been on this part of the road before. It has a few sweeping curves. About half way to Saluda, the road runs across a bridge over a high valley. An older bridge still stands to the south of this newer one, and there is a parking lot -- the former roadway -- at the east end that I pull into for a better look. The old bridge entrance is blocked by concrete barriers, but you can easily walk out onto it.

Here are some bikers going up the hill after crossing the bridge, going the opposite direction I am.



I go out onto the old bridge, and take in the views of the valley below. It's a pretty deep valley.



I also look over at the newer bridge, and at one other thing that I know you know I will find interesting, being the engineer that I am. There is a large black pipe running down the valley beneath the west end of the bridges. The pipe is a canvas for graffiti artists, but what is the pipe's purpose?



I walk down to that end of the bridge and look closer. The pipe appears to be about eight feet in diameter, possibly made of creosoted wooden staves with threaded steel rods wrapped around the outside to tighten the joints. There is a trickle of water leaking out of the pipe in a few places. A maintenance ladder is propped against the pipe.



The pipe is well supported on cradles resting on concrete pads, with steel structure as necessary to carry it over low spots.

Here is a closer look at the pipe's construction:



I later learn that this pipe probably carries water downstream from Lake Summit. That lake exists because the Green River -- the very same one that I followed a little earlier today -- is dammed south of this point.

A reader tells me "That big pipe is a penstock from Lake Summit to the Tuxedo Hydro Station." The website he references calls out these further details: "The Tuxedo Hydroelectric Station is operated by Duke Energy Carolinas, and has two 3.2 MW generators. The station began operation in 1920. The wood stafe penstock and turbine runners were replaced in 1993. The project includes a 130ft high, 245 ft long single-arch concrete dam."

Everything you ever wanted to know about wooden penstocks, tanks, and piping is here.

I examine the surroundings to see if I can get down to the pipe easily. I can't see a way to do so without climbing down through the grass and scrub, so I don't try to do so. After I gawk at the pipeline, I look back at the new bridge and note again how high it is above the bottom of the valley.



I walk back to my bike and finish a granola bar and bottle of G2 (that terrible-tasting stuff), then get ready for the rest of my trip today. I head into downtown Saluda, pass the crest of the Saluda Grade, and turn right on the Greenville Watershed Road, beginning to go toward home now. This is the road I traveled with Ryan the first time we rode together.

Today, I am more confident of my technique that I was then. There are a few pavement buckles that nearly launch a rider off his seat, and some broken pavement, but outside of that, the road is pretty good. There is not much traffic today, so I have clear sailing almost all the way to US-25 just north of SC-11. There is no development along a lot of this route, so cross traffic and driveway-backer-outers are not a problem. A few of the curves are blind, and there are many bicyclists who use this road, so a bit of care is in order.

I run the short distance down 25 and turn right on SC-11. This is a familiar route that many riders use in various ways. Some ride it in preference to most other roads. The cruisers especially tend to do that. The sportbikers tolerate its benign route only to get to their favorite twisty places to ride.

This is a good time to list the roads that go up the Blue Ridge Escarpment, in order from east to west, as described by Andy Simons on the Motorcycle Tourer's Forum:

"Some of the best riding in the South is located along the South Carolina/North Carolina state line in the mountainous part of the states. This area, bordered on the South by SC Scenic Highway 11, to the East by I-26, to the North by Highway 64, and to the West by Highway 28, is dominated by the southern Blue Ridge Escarpment. An escarpment is defined as a long continuous cliff caused by erosion or upheaval. The roads in this area that run between SC and NC are all a blast to ride and some of them are as challenging as any that can be found in our country.

"Starting at the eastern end, at the intersection of SC 11 and I-26, go north on I-26, you will soon see the signs warning truckers about the upcoming grade (the Saluda Grade). Because of the engineering challenges, the Saluda Grade was the last portion of I-26 to be completed. The road here widens to give the truckers an extra slow lane and is made up of a series of high-speed sweepers (if you have the power). My favorite part of this ride is at the top where you can look to the left and see most of the northern part of SC.

"The next road, US-176, is a narrow winding 2 lane road. While 176 does not feature any terrific views, there are some beautiful little towns along the route. US-176 was the detour for 1-26 while the highway up the Saluda Grade was completed. I traveled over it several times (in the car with my parents) until the interstate was finished more than 30 years ago. When I drove up 176 last summer, it seemed as though time had stopped in the early 70's (after I-26 opened).

"The next road to the West is US-25. US 25 is a major traffic route for citizens of the Greenville, SC area who are heading north. The road is interstate quality with some good views and many pretty farms and homes along the way.

"This is probably a good time to talk about SC Scenic Highway 11. This road runs along the base of the escarpment for 70 miles. The highlight of the ride along of SC-11 is the spectacular cliff formations that are visible to the North as you travel along the highway. Also, one of SC's best parks, Table Rock State Park, is on SC-11. SC-11 is not a challenging road - no twisties or real elevation changes.

A hot spot for SC biker's for years has been US-276 between SC-11 and Brevard, NC. This highway is a two-lane road, paved many years ago. There are many tight switchbacks as the road goes through considerable changes in elevation. Again, you go through some small towns where it seems like time has stood still. The road goes through Caesar's Head State Park and the overlook at the top, 'Bald Rock' is worth stopping for.

"Next road to the West is US-178. Highway 178 runs from Rosman, NC down to SC-11. It is similar in character to 276 but the road is in better shape. I recently went through this route with a group and we had a great time playing in the twisties. One warning - traveling south from Rosman, just as you cross the state line, 178 opens up and flattens out for about 1/2 mile. It is really tempting to put the hammer down in this section, especially if you are behind others in your group. However, the SC State Patrol likes to station one of their finest in a special pursuit Camaro to help control speeds in this area. Beware the bear.

"SC-130 and SC-107 are 2 more roads that climb the escarpment. There is a beautiful waterfall off 130 [just north of the North Carolina state line] you can see if you don't mind a short hike. If you go all the way up 130, it changes to NC 281 as you cross the SC/NC state line.

"Highway SC-107 is an old road and is not as spectacular as some of the other roads in the area. I like it because of the town at the intersection of 107 and 64, Cashiers, NC. There is a gas station/restaurant there with some of the best hot dogs I have had.

"Last on my list is my favorite, Highway 28. The good part of this road actually starts in Walhalla, SC at the Steakhouse Cafeteria (sorry - no steaks). North from Walhalla, the road travels up and down several ridges and includes nearly every combination of turn you could imagine. Traffic is normally light and I have traveled the complete section from Walhalla to Highlands, NC without being slowed by cage traffic. One piece of advice - Highlands is a favorite spot for the NC jet set. Traffic there can be heavy on the weekends. [From a local rider: I try to avoid the section of 64/28 aka the gorge. It is a very curvy section of road but the traffic crawls through there, usually in the wrong lane. I’ve even had one local in a truck try to run me off the road there before. That combined with the tar snakes and nowhere to safely pass and I gave up on that section of road. I've found better roads like Norton or Buck Creek to bypass the gorge.] The shops are nice but the price is high. If you have your significant other with you and stop here it might be expensive ;O).

"BTW, if you really feel like riding, 28 goes all the way to Deal's Gap, ending at the intersection of 28 and US-129 - the start of the 'Dragon'. I have used this route to the 'Gap' several times and it is never boring. Hope you enjoy the ride."

Today, I take route 11 over to US-178, crossing my earlier path, and stop at the Holly Springs Country Store for a quick rest and to see if any other riders I know are there. Alas, there are none, so I head back through Pickens, SC toward home. The road between the store and Pickens is full of nice sweeping curves that are a joy to ride. I feel free here, where the road is familiar.

This is the map of my trip today:

View Larger Map

When I reach home, I find that I have traveled 126 miles over good roads and not so good. It is great to be out enjoying God's creation on two wheels.




I wonder if I should call the clever Bush Hog sign guy to have him do some work for me....
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Ride to Mt. Mitchell -- Highest Point East of the Mississippi

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Our church riding group planned a trip to the highest point east of the Mississippi, Mt. Mitchell, in North Carolina. Though I had never been there, the roads on the way there were somewhat familiar, including the previously-reported-on US-178 and a section of the Blue Ridge Parkway. This is to be our longest ride thus far, so we start out an hour earlier than usual, at 8:30.

We are gratified that four new guys show up to join us for the ride. They are all from Easley, and have been interested in riding with us but never had the chance to get away on the days we scheduled previously. Even so, today they have not allocated enough time to do the entire ride, so they decide that they would break off part way through and return home.

The weather report has predicted rain chances for several days, but the latest report gives only a 30% chance, so we prepare to get started.

An aside:

I continue to be surprised at how little protective gear most riders wear. Nearly all of the riders I see in town have very little protective equipment in evidence. In the mountains, a higher percentage wear it, but even there it is, many times, not complete. A few are well protected. So I am in the minority as far as dressing for the ride is concerned.

As you recall, I never throw a leg over the bike unless I am fully geared up. For me, this is a leather suit, hard armor, motorcycle boots, gloves, and full face helmet. For most others, the protective gear consists only of a helmet and gloves. Sometimes the helmet is not included if they are not riding outside of South Carolina. Tee shirts, jeans, and light jackets in the summer time are the rule. We strongly urge our riders to dress for the fall rather than for the ride, but few actually do.

I recently purchased some new CE-rated hard armor for my white Fieldsheer one-piece leather suit. The modern armor is sold by Fieldsheer, and fit this old suit very well: The suit is about 17 years old. I bought it from a guy about thirty years my junior (Whew, I'm getting old!) who raced an '86 Honda VFR 750. Amazingly, the suit is very good condition for its age. I always wear my VelocityGear back protector under the suit as well.

I have become even more of a gear preacher since last weekend when a fellow rider went down while we were riding together. He ended up with his bike wedged under a guardrail, and sustained a broken wrist and other injuries. If he had not been wearing a leather jacket, leather pants, motorcycle boots, gloves, and a full-face helmet, his injuries could have been much worse. He will be hurting for some weeks, but he is alive to tell about it.

Anyway, back to the day's ride.

There is a bit of mist at the start, but it soon gives way to partly cloudy skies and comfortable temperatures.

We have our usual pre-ride briefing. I think this is important, so everyone knows where we are going, the pace we will be riding, where we will stop and gas up, what the road conditions are likely to be, etc. One of the most important instructions is to ride your own ride -- don't try to keep up if your fear level is rising or you are making mistakes. Easy advice to give, but sometimes hard to follow, since there is a marked tendency to be more confident than your level of experience should dictate.

Oh, and we say a prayer before leaving for protection, enjoyment, fellowship, and a chance to talk with someone about our faith.

Today, we are following this route:


View Larger Map

We make our way to Pickens and US-178. This road is moderately curvy south of SC-11. As usual, we stop at the Holly Springs Country Store for a quick break. As I have previously posted, this is a meeting spot for motorcyclists of all types. Today is no exception, and I see two of the students from the Collision Avoidance Class held at the church a couple of weeks ago. They cannot ride with us today, lacking the time to go as far as we plan. They happen to be heading the same way we are to start, and they leap frog us on their way, having left after we did from the store.

US-178 becomes quite technical in places north of SC-11 until you reach Rosman, NC. All of the riders today make it through in about the same time.

Interestingly, our ages range from mid-forties to late sixties for this ride. I am about the least experienced in riding, and the only one on a sporty bike. I am the leader today, since I worked out the route.

I note that I am less tense on this road the more times I ride it. Perhaps I am becoming more adept at negotiating the curves and trusting the bike. I have certainly not memorized it like many of the more experienced riders here. I have to read each curve as it comes, though I have begun to recognize two or three especially tight turns ahead of time. Lest you think that I am burning up the road, I'll tell you that I am slower than many who tackle this route.

We stop in Rosman to hydrate, since there is only one more place to do so until we reach Asheville, NC. The four guys who joined us at the start must turn off here, as they have not planned to be out for the entire day. They will go east on US-64 and return to Easley via. US-276, SC-8, and SC-135. Bon voyage, gentlemen!

Next for us is a very short stretch of US-64, then on to NC-215. The latter is not as twisty, and is not in as good a condition as 178, but holds no major hazards, just some bumps and patches in the pavement.

The entrance to the Blue Ridge Parkway is quite unobtrusive, in keeping with the non-commercial nature of the road. Only a couple of small signs mark the turn. The rock overpass that you pass through before this entrance is another clue. Back in the thirties, the Parkway was a make-work project, and many construction techniques requiring hours of manual labor were specified to make the project provide more jobs. As a result, things like this overpass are quite attractive and of a type of craftsmanship not often seen today because of its cost.

We enter the Parkway at milepost 430 and go to the north. I have gone this way several times before, so am familiar with it. There are many overlooks along the way (about twenty-two between here and Mt. Mitchell), with vistas popping up on both sides of the road. This is possible because the highway traverses the highest points in many areas, so either way you look is downhill.

There are twenty-five tunnels all together on the Parkway, with several in this stretch at the mileposts listed.

• 422.1 Devils Courthouse Tunnel 650 ft long.
• 410.1 Frying Pan Tunnel 275 ft long.
• 407.4 Buck Springs Tunnel 380 ft long.
• 406.9 Little Pisgah Tunnel 500 ft long.
• 403.9 Fort Mountain Tunnel 350 ft long.
• 401.5 Ferrin Knob Tunnel No. 3 230 ft long.
• 401.3 Ferrin Knob Tunnel No. 2 310 ft long.
• 400.9 Ferrin Knob Tunnel No. 1, Trace Ridge 60 ft. long.
• 365.5 Craggy Flats Tunnel 335 ft long.
• 364.4 Craggy Pinnacle Tunnel 176 ft long.

It is wise to slow down through these tunnels, as many of them are long and some are curved so the sight distance is limited. It is easy to miss seeing a stopped or slow vehicle. In the cooler part of the year, ice can form in the tunnels, so extra care is needed then. Bicycles use this road extensively as well, and they are not easy to see.

We go along at the speed limit of 45 MPH, occasionally stopping to look or take a picture. We pass the US-276 entrance, milepost 411.8, where we exited the last time the group rode here. We next pass the Mt. Pisgah Inn where we had lunch that time through.

We gas up at a station near the NC-191 entrance. The North Carolina Arboretum is located here as well -- another good place for us to visit in future.

Once we get back on the Parkway, we continue north and start through the Biltmore Forest. This is land that was owned by Mr. George Washington Vanderbilt, who erected the largest private residence in the United States not far from the road. Vanderbilt was keenly interested in forestry, and had a good portion of the trees and other vegetation planted on his land, much of which had been logged out. The mansion is privately owned and is open for tours. It takes no government funds, so the price is higher than some other attractions, but it is well worth visiting.

There is also an interesting place to visit back on US-276 south of the Parkway called the Cradle of Forestry. It has both indoor and outdoor displays about forestry development. Early foresters got their start in this area of North Carolina. I went there last October for the annual Forest Festival Day and Intercollegiate Woodsmen's Meet. Teams of college students compete in log rolling, cross cutting, pole climbing, and such. It was interesting to watch.

From the Cradle of Forestry website:

"The 6,500-acre Cradle of Forestry Historic Site...contains the first official school for forestry in America – the Biltmore Forest School. After purchasing land in the Asheville, NC area in the mid to late 1800's, George Vanderbilt was prompted by Frederick Law Olmsted to hire a forester to maintain his property. Vanderbilt selected Gifford Pinchot to restore and manage his massive expanse of lands. It was during this time that Forestry in America began....

"These events paved the way for Dr. Carl Schenck to open the Biltmore Forest School in 1898. For 15 years, the students practiced the science and business of forestry and eventually produced over 300 foresters who began the profession of forestry in the United States."

This Biltmore Forest section of the Parkway has only a few overlooks and the curves are generally more sweeping than the section we have just left. It is noticeably cooler through here, too. The road is almost canopied in many places by the tall trees. The road is smooth and I enjoy the ride. There is a busy section south of Asheville, NC, where I suppose local traffic uses the Parkway for commuting. After that, it is again lightly traveled.

The Blue Ridge Parkway Destination Center is next up, at milepost 384. This visitor center, opened in April of 2008, covers the entire length of the Parkway. Displays inside show the history and features of the Parkway and surrounding territory.



Two of our bikes enjoying a rest while we look around.












The design of the Parkway was carefully engineered, down to the types of plantings to be installed.










You can get this key fob at the Destination Center. It is a reminder that the road is beautiful, but can be dangerous because of drivers taking in the views instead of watching the traffic, and because of the curving nature of the road.


I bought the zipper pull shown below. It depicts an actual sign on the Parkway, though not in the section we are riding today. I am not sure that a descending radius curve is the correct term, but decreasing radius certainly is, and there are some of those.

Here is a picture of a guy I know posing next to the real thing.

[photo courtesy of Ryan]

Precious children playing with bubbles outside the Destination Center.


After this, we head out again toward Mt. Mitchell.

Near Craggy Gardens, around milepost 364, the road is under construction. There had been a rockslide here in March of 2008, and they have been repairing it ever since. The road has only just reopened in the last few months. The pavement here is pocked where the top layer has come away. There is even one section where it is one lane with a traffic signal to regulate traffic coming from opposite directions. This is the only traffic light on the Parkway, and fortunately, it is only temporary until they get the pavement down again.

We arrive at the road to Mt. Mitchell, NC-128. This is an interesting road because it does not touch any other state highway. Rather it is a spur off the Blue Ridge Parkway. There is a twisty road advisory sign, but I am surprised how easy the turns are on the way to the highest point in this half of the country. Except for one moderate hairpin, the road is quite manageable.


[photo from http://www.state-ends.com/]

We pass the restaurant -- we will come back there in a little while for lunch -- and arrive at the large parking area near the peak. We find a place amongst the many open slots. There are lots of motorcycles and cars as well as bicycles here waiting for us. Some of the bicyclists are no spring chickens, either. There are a few who look to be in their fifties. Rugged, fit individuals, these.

It is noticeably cooler here at the top of Mt. Mitchell -- about 60 degrees, just a bit cooler than comfortable on the bike. Once we start our walk to the observation tower -- all uphill of course -- my leathers provide about the right amount of insulation for comfort with the exertion. The elevation at the top is 6684 feet above sea level. Easley is at 1079 feet, so we have climbed over a mile so far today, not counting the hundreds of other ups and downs between here and home.

From Wikipedia:

"The mountain was named after Elisha Mitchell, a professor at the University of North Carolina, who determined its height in 1835 and fell to his death at nearby Mitchell Falls in 1857, having returned to verify his earlier measurements. [O]n the summit is the tomb of Dr. Mitchell."

The view is fairly good, considering the cloudy conditions. Though we cannot see that far today, some of the most distant points that can be seen are eighty-some miles away.



The sky almost looks like a painting, doesn't it?












Did you notice how variable the lighting is today in the pictures above? One minute it is bright and sunny, and the next it is overcast and gloomy.

After we have gawked at the surrounding country, we head back toward the small visitor center and souvenir shop. There are displays inside describing the mountain, the weather, and the flora and fauna. An interesting fact is that the climate here is about the same as that in Canada, due to the elevation. Hikers who are ignorant of this have spent nights unprepared for the low temperatures and high winds.

When we have looked at the displays, we mount our steeds and motor back down to the restaurant. It is in a nice building, and the menu has a good selection. I order a $7.00 smoked turkey sandwich, envisioning a pile of succulent meat with some tasty garnishes. Alas, the sandwich has only two thin layers of turkey, one leaf of lettuce, and a greenish-red Styrofoam-textured tomato slice. Well, the scenery out the window is pretty anyway.


[photo from Romantic Asheville website]

We spend a little while in the restaurant, but decide to start on our way back so it would not be too late when we get home. The return is the same as the roads in here until we reach NC-191 again, south of Asheville. The Parkway is a bit clogged at the construction area. We have to wait, so I snap a picture of the lone traffic light.



At 191, we reluctantly exit the Parkway and head toward I-26. We stop for a few minutes to gas up again, and I survey the sky and comment that we have avoided rain all day long and that there is no chance of getting wet now. How fortunate we have been!

The superslab is busy and we watch traffic for an opening to merge into. I do not have a lot of experience riding on expressways, but it goes OK. The pavement is grooved through here to reduce hydroplaning, and the grooves cause the bike to weave and wander a bit. If you don't panic and stiffen up on the bars, the bike finds its way without incident.

After some miles, we veer off onto US-25 and continue toward Greenville. About two minutes later, the Heavens open up without warning. Cats and dogs are swimming for their lives in mid-air. There is no place to stop and put on our rain gear, so we press onward. We fall in behind another rider and his passenger, and hunker down. The rain is cold, and after a short time I feel it pooling in my nether regions: Not a good feeling.

Just as quickly as we entered the downpour, it stops and the sun comes out about when we get to SC-11. We turn onto it and go toward SC-8, Pumpkintown, SC-135, and then Easley. By the time we are half way home, the sun and wind have mostly dried my leathers -- including the sensitive spot -- and I am warmed up again.

We break off and scatter to our homes. When I turn off the bike, I note that I have ridden 253.3 miles -- shy by only five miles of being the longest single day ride of my career. My longest ride was with a group of sportbikers into Georgia last February.

I pull the bike into the garage, and begin to put things away. My leathers are still damp, so I ask our son to apply a dressing of Lexol before I take off the suit. A coat of the same on my boots helps them as well.

I peel off my suit with new-found ease because I have that new armor I told you about earlier in the suit's pockets instead of the full VelocityGear armored shirt on under the suit. I don't need help getting out any more! Here is a picture of that suit.


[photo taken at Wigington Byway overlook, July 27, 2009]

I hang the suit on a padded hanger in the house so the air conditioning can dry it slowly. I made the padded hanger from a wooden coat hanger covered with a section of foam pool noodle. It is much cheaper than a ready-made soft hanger.



It has been a long day -- it is about 6:15 PM -- but I have enjoyed the trip very much. I find that I am not too tired because we stopped several times and went along at a relaxed pace most of the way.


If you go:

Some excellent, tank-bag-size, printable Blue Ridge Parkway maps are available on the Blue Ridge Parkway Association website.

The Blue Ridge Parkway by Virtual Blue Ridge website has panoramic photos of many of the overlooks. Click "Parkway Tour," then "Overlooks."

The WikiTravel website has a mile-by-mile listing of overlooks and entrances to the Parkway.

A very good book with many illustrations is Building the Blue Ridge Parkway By Karen J. Hall, Friends of the Blue Ridge Parkway, Inc.

A website with some pictures taken along the Parkway is here.

Bon voyage!
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Collision Avoidance Class

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Our church riding group sponsored a one-day class called Motorcycle Collision Avoidance. Four instructors rode in from Charleston South Carolina to put it on for us. Two are motorcycle cops and the other two are experienced riders. One of the cops is also a riding instructor in his department, and, on occasion, for groups all over the eastern half of the country. All go to the same church down there in Charleston.

All of the instructors ride large cruisers, and they can scrape the floorboards at their whim. They handle their nearly 900 pound bikes as though they are lightweight bicycles.

The class started out with some orientation, how to check over the motorcycle before riding, and an introduction to the exercises that were to be practiced later in the day. Some of us looked just a bit apprehensive about doing a few of them. Nervous laughter could be heard at times during the descriptions.

We went outside from the classroom, and the instructor reviewed the basics of inspection. He told us that we were free not to do any of the exercises that we didn't feel comfortable with. He told us that we might drop our bikes today, so he proceeded to drop his onto the crash bars -- as we all gasped that he would do such a thing to his fine machine, and to show us how easy it is to put upright again.

The students' bikes were varied from sporty bikes like my Ninja 650R, to cruisers, standards, and one dual sport.

The morning was spent doing low speed maneuvers. These are especially useful in parking lots, in making U-turns, and in other tight places. Duck walking the bike and making multiple-point turns is greatly reduced by learning how to turn and lean the beast at low speeds.

Principle amongst the lessons was giving the right amount of throttle, feathering the clutch, and applying the rear brake. Now dad always cautioned me about slipping the clutch in the car when I was learning to drive, but on a motorcycle, the clutch is made to withstand considerable abuse like that because it is [or should be] an often-used technique.

Feeling the friction point consistently was first. A 2 by 4 was used to gauge how well we were doing. (No, they didn't have to use the 2 by 4 on any of us directly.) If we could start out with the rear wheel just in back of the lumber, then feather the clutch enough to go over it without kicking it backward, that was about right.

Once that was mastered, the simultaneous throttle opening to just above idle RPM, the use of the rear brake, and the feathered clutch proved to be the winning combination for low speed turns. If you feel as though you are falling down, let off the brake a little, release the clutch a little, and the bike stands back up. What a difference compared with trying to regulate speed with the throttle only or with the clutch in or out completely! The throttle, just above idle, is too sensitive to regulate these low speed maneuvers.

Oh, one more thing. None of this works at all unless you are looking where you want to go. You should NOT look here:

If you look at the ground, you will end up there. Believe it or not, if you look at that traffic cone way over your shoulder, that is where the bike will go. It is like magic. Our necks were thoroughly limbered up by the end of the morning, having turned our heads like owls to look where we wanted to go.

We did figure eights, easy weaves around cones in a straight line, and slaloms around a forest of cones that looked impossibly tight.

Note the illuminated brake lights, indicating that the rear brake is being used here.

Bucky getting some one-on-one instruction.

Again, note that the brake light is on.

The instructor showing us the way to look where we want to go.

The teachers stood nearby on each of these,

gesturing and giving instruction: Look at me! Don't look down! Give it some more throttle! Good job! That's it! Go, go, go! Let me help you pick up that bike.

Yes, it did happen. Several of us dropped our bikes. Usually this was caused by looking in the wrong direction or not adding sufficient throttle to pull the bike through the tight maneuvers. Fortunately, no real harm was done to either man or beast.

Incidentally, there were three women students amongst the ten who took the class. Each of them did well. And, did you pick up on the number of students versus the number of instructors? Yep. Ten students and four instructors. Each of us had almost half of an instructor's attention for the entire day. That is pretty intensive training.

Just before noon, the instructors showed off their skills a bit, riding the same courses we had -- and more, but much faster and more aggressively. There was a lot of scraping of floorboards on the tarmac, but under complete control. Later, one of them said that when they are demonstrating a technique to the class, that it is actually somewhat difficult for them to slow it down to a speed that the student is likely to be able to run.

At noon, we rode back to the building for lunch and to cool off. The day was warm -- about eighty-eight degrees, and partly cloudy. It was just about ideal, considering that the temperature could have been in the high nineties with high humidity. Still, the air conditioning was a welcome change.

After a sumptuous lunch of hot dogs, potato salad, pasta salad, brownies, and other goodies, catered by volunteers from the motorcycle group, we asked questions of one of the instructors while the other three want out to prepare for the afternoon's festivities.

Soon it was time to go see what they had wrought. All of us eagerly rode back to the course and found the cones lined up in a row. We were to learn threshold braking next. The cones were set up so that two riders could be on the course at once and we were to get up to thirty miles per hour and use mostly the front brake, but a little rear brake, to stop as quickly as possible. This was entirely different from the morning exercises where we were using the rear brake exclusively to regulate our low speeds.

The instructors demonstrated how only a little rear brake pressure is correct. You just want to take out the slack on the rear brake when you begin braking because the pitching forward of the bike on its front forks and the consequent change in posture of the rider adds about the right amount of additional rear brake pressure.

Squeezing the front brake lever as though it were an orange was given as an example of correct technique: You apply the brake, not grab it.

We then proceeded to practice: We grabbed front brakes and skidded rear tires until we began to master the correct technique. There was plenty of rubber left on the course from our rear tires, but after about twenty tries, all of the students got the hang of it and were stopping much more rapidly than before, mostly without leaving any rubber on the road. Again, that was real progress. ...and the instructors were unfailingly patient and encouraging through it all.

Next a little nuance was added: We had to apply maximum braking, then swerve through a tight Z-path as though we had just braked to avoid hitting some road hazard, then had to maneuver around it at low speed.

Thought process: Slow down quickly using threshold technique, then switch to the throttle open/feathered clutch/rear brake method to get through the tight spot. My brain was reeling, trying to practice in my mind's eye what I would have to do. I said a prayer to give me ability beyond my own. After a try or two, I was actually able to do it. ...and it wasn't that hard. Prayer works!

But at first....

Reflections in the side cases.

We went down the course in pairs.

Next up was swerving. We had to swerve in the direction the instructor indicated. It seemed as though he always waited until the rider was impossibly close to the cones before indicating which direction to swerve. Actually, there was plenty of room, but it didn't seem like it initially. Yet again, before long, all of us were swerving right or left at the instructor's whim. He only had to dodge one time.

All right, now let's put this together, swerving right, swerving left, or threshold braking as directed by the instructor.

The clever instructor gave no indication of what he was going to do, then indicated what he wanted us to do at the last possible nanosecond. On this one, he had to dodge more than once, and the rear tire skids and less-than-threshold braking reappeared. Nevertheless, we did catch on for the most part after some practice.

An important lesson was learned here: That we must practice, practice, practice until the techniques become second nature. Old habits can come back all too easily if we don't continually review them correctly.

The last exercise of the day was curve negotiation. The instructors set up some cones in a curved pattern, and had us sweep through, apexing at about the midpoint.

Once we had a few practice runs, they introduced a hazard -- one of the instructors -- when we were in some part of the curve. If they stepped into the curve or waved their hands or yelled, we had to straighten up and stop. The key word here is straighten up and stop as quickly as possible. By apexing, that leaves room for straightening and stopping in the unleaned position. If you don't apex, you could be too close to the edge of the lane and go off if you have to slow or stop.

STOP!

Motor on, girl.

Every student participated in all of the exercises. Some students were so enthusiastic that they didn't want to stop when the instructors gave them the signal. All in all, everyone in the class learned a remarkable amount in the short time allotted.

One key is that we had only been introduced to the techniques and skills. It is up to us to practice them. They recommended that we practice one or two skills every time we go out.

The instructors also cautioned us that we can easily become overconfident and ride beyond our skills. We must be on the lookout for this by recognizing when our fear level is going up, when we start to panic, and when we start to make mistakes on the road. Riding partners, too, can help us spot these things and gently remind us to take it easy, rest, or quit riding for the day.

Incidentally, the four instructors gave freely of their time and talent and expected nothing in return. They were truly Godly men, giving freely to us -- and unafraid to share what being a Christian means.

They are all members of the Carolina FaithRiders.

The next morning, before the parking lot began to fill, the skid marks are still evident.

This had been a worthwhile day of learning and fellowship.

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