Virginia Is For Motorcycle Lovers
When we left Long Island heading south, we were three. It was Graham, Bill and myself.
We were set to meet up with the other Bill in Virginia, which we did on Saturday night after our fab ride along the Blue Ridge.
And then we were four.
As it turns out, along with Graham and Bill, the other Bill rode a Weestrom, too. I was starting to feel like I was going to be kidnapped and indoctrinated by some weird Suzuki cult. Wee, Wee, Wee… all the way home.
Saturday was a long but enjoyable day in the saddle. By the time we’d ridden to Virginia, ridden a stretch of the BRP and had dinner, I was pretty well knackered. We’d put about 600 miles in for the day and I was starting to feel it.
I shuffled myself back to my motel room and hit the hay. I don’t remember shutting off the TV or being close to falling asleep. I just remember waking up in the morning to the sound of something electronic that deserved to die a horrible death.
I’m going to share a little tip with you.
If you enter your vacation time as an event on your office Outlook calendar and said calendar syncs with your phone – avoid setting the start time of the event to 6am. When you are ON said vacation, being awakened by an alert letting you know as much, is not good.
Since I was unable to find anything to smash my phone with, I got out of bed and peeked out the east-facing window. The sun was already burning its way through the silvery fog that hung on the mountains. It was going to be a great day for riding.
Virginia is for motorcycle lovers.
I showered, packed up my bag and padded downstairs to get a better look at the morning. Not long after, Bill popped down with freshly percolated coffee from his travel pot. Yay!
Gentleman that he is (truly), Bill complimented my “fashion-forward” dressing:
I guess shorts, my REV’IT knee socks and pink Converse were a minor faux pas. Luckily he hadn’t spotted me a few minutes earlier when the right lens fell out of the spare sunglasses I was wearing.
Someday when I grow up I will be a beautiful princess. In the meantime I’ll keep perfecting the art of being an awkward dork. People seem to be enjoying it.
Bill and I made the day’s riding plans over coffee. We’d decided that we would head back north via neighboring West Virginia. When in the area, it would be criminal to skip riding Route 39 which starts around Lexington, Va. and would carry us west to Marlinton, Wv. So, that’s where we were headed. Route 39 is a fine, fine road.
When they moseyed on downstairs, Graham and the other Bill decided that they wanted to head south instead. With hugs and handshakes all around, Bill and I set off.
And then, we were two…
With only a teensy-weensy delay in having to double-back for my suicidal camera, we were heading west.