I had not been on 81 long at all after my breakfast stop when I went through the town of Pulaski, NC. Mother nature had been here, and she had been pissed. A tornado had been through here last year I later learned and left an indelible mark on these people's lives and their homesteads. Not a tree was left in tact, though the piles of debris were still abundant. Treetops co-mingled with bunk beds. It had crossed the highway where I now sped and continued its' destructive ways up over the next hill. Amazing and humbling how fickle she can be. I wish these fine citizens of this town the best of luck. They didn't have much that harrowing night for sure.
Mile marker 0.
I cross the Tennessee line to little fanfare other than my own nuisance making efforts. No bands, no ticker tape. Only Fasmart 471 and its decrepit pumps and a convenience store parking lot stacked with vehicles in even worse shape. The time was 10:35 and the odometer read 14,747. 529 miles from home and all I could do was smile like a guy who just got laid for the first time. 3.665 gallons in 172 miles.
The only note on my trip log was this ->> "I WANT MORE!!!"
That pretty much sums it up. No literary finagling necessary.
Perhaps it was my state of mind, but I took one of only 3 pictures on this trip in the Fasmart parking lot so I could prove I was really in Bristol, TN. This may be the worst picture I have ever taken. I had other things on my mind and I was gettin busy livin. The other bonus of this trip was that this ride was no longer the miserable trip I used to take with my ex. It now belongs to me. I will own this memory and this road in a positive light from this day forth.
The trash bag liner went into the top box, along with the neck gaiter. The Gerbings gloves were replaced with ventilated leather. It was march and it was time for some summertime riding. I may be the luckiest guy on earth at this particular point and time.
New song for the ride home. It's cheesy and predictable but it's a classic, and it fits my buoyed spirits. I will have a Coors in Texarcana, likely in 2013 on my trip to Needles, CA if anyone has any suggestions. For today, I will just sing it to myself a couple dozen times and laugh at Buford T Justice quotes as I count up to 323 from 0.
208.6 miles later and a solid 20 miles past 0 miles left till empty, I pull myself away from the 50th "Boy when I get home.." and slide off of exit 205 into Raphine, VA, under full Triumph power at 13:01, into Smileys Fuel City. Smileys sign out front informs me it is the home of the "Best BBQ in VA". There is some question if that is really 13:01 or 14:01 as daylight savings happened the previous weekend, but I didn't care. The sun was shining, the jiggly weather girls were right, it really was the perfect day to be doing anything other than sitting in a cubicle.
It was perhaps a foolhardy decision at the time, but I was getting cocky. I remember Jim's advice to "have fun, THAT'S the bottom line". I sprayed the chain with some dupont teflon, put in 4.18 gallons (DOH!) and stripped off the fleece.
Mr Smiley, your ass is mine. I'll be the judge of these here claims to the best BBQ.
Well, about 3 minutes after receiving my order of brisket and a dousing with a melange of sauces at the self service bar, this is what remained as I washed the goodness down with some good old fashioned, hot summer's day, caffeinated Coca-Cola. Had I turned the camera around, my face would have looked similar to that napkin dispenser, only covered in Texas style mesquite sauce.
I will do the rest of this trip on my own terms. I was no longer worried about the clock. I have now ridden further than any other single day of my two-wheeled career and I yearn for more. My only regret is that I didn't have a Dr Pepper to stick with the theme.
45 minutes later I have my camelback refilled for the second time this trip and bugs removed from the visor. East bound and down has been fun for the last couple hours, let's stick with that you maniac as Chiron fires up with as much vigor as its' better half.
225, 250, 275, 300, 323. A honk, wave and and an ADV style salute to West Virginia, and the same goes for you Maryland shortly thereafter.
Maybe I should have held off on the ADV salute to MD. My credit card at the Hagerstown Shell station was declined since it was the 4th time I used their network today. Hah, you have to do more than that to stop me. It's all good, I don't care, that girl at Falling Waters WV returned my backup plan to me many miles and smiles ago. Here's an Andrew Jackson. You can stick him where you will once I leave, I am riding and my face hurts from smiling. I have another gas receipt from a new state and the great Commonwealth of Pennsylvania can be seen just over the next rise. I am east bound and down.
PA gets more of the same minutes later as I return to my homeland. A statey is in his hidey hole right across the line looking for guys like me. Guys who aren't paying attention and are bitching on their cellphone about their shitty day at the office to their old lady who doesn't give two shits except when he will be home. I'm going the speed limit with a smile that says it all beneath my lifted lid to let this day fill my every pore. Today ain't your day pal. I swear I see him laugh at my antics across the line behind his Buford T Justice specs. Perfect. I may be an idiot, but there is no law against that and he knows it. Yet another memory to file away, maybe someday I will write about this experience.
19:37 on the day of my departure and the light is quickly fading across a lightly streaked pink and purple sky. These are my little girls 2 favorite colors and I have thought of her often today. I hope some day she can enjoy a passion to the extent her father does. I can't wait to squeeze the living shit out her tomorrow when I pick her up from school.
My receipt spits out from the Bethlehem Pennsylvania Exxon 4 minutes later as the tiger drinks her final cocktail of 3.162 gallons of super. My sidestand has gone down each time, my gloves are in tact. I have all my receipts, and I even have my wallet. Home is only 0.36 miles away as the crow flies. I snap a picture of the GPS for posterity. On the 2 minute ride home I begin to ponder if I can do this several days in a row and maybe, just maybe, if the stars align and I can recreate this, if perhaps Grand Teton would be so kind as to bless me with her shadow this summer after I cross the Mackinaw bridge. If she doesn't, that's fine with me, because as you may have noticed by now, for me it's about the journey, not the destination.
Respectfully submitted,
GrimeTime
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