Saturday, November 7, 2009

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 the proximity sensor caused the bike alarm to squawk at them. I wish I had seen their reactions. I'll bet my buddy enjoyed the little trick, too.

Outside is this bright red caboose.


As I prepare to leave, I see that 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 walks away, his wife turns to me 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, 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, 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 exercises 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 exercises 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. He was then 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 there 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 this 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 – questioning 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, 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 railroad 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 of office. 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, and I turn south to retrace my path. I intend to cut off of 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
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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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Sunday, November 1, 2009

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 until it is full, then it was then allowed to drain through the hose into the vehicle's fuel tank. The graduations inside the reservoir show how much fuel has been dispensed into the vehicle. They had not yet invented reliable and accurate mechanical 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. 

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 a page about Southeastern gasoline stations on Roadside Peek, a website that tells about roadside attractions..

Sunday, October 25, 2009

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
.