The Virginias are for Motorcycle Lovers – 2011

When we left Long Island heading south, we were three. It was Graham, Bill and me.

My Speed Triple heading to VirginiaWe were set to meet up with the other Bill in Virginia, which we did on Saturday night.

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.

Bikes parked at the motel


Late Afternoon on the Blue Ridge Parkway

It’s really no wonder that the Blue Ridge Parkway was on AMA Magazine’s 15 Best Roads in America list. It is, in short, a great ride. 469 miles from top to bottom of beautiful riding.

Speed Triple and the Blue Ridge Parkway sign

After leaving Long Island at o’dark-thirty, Bill, Graham and I arrived in Staunton, Virginia in the afternoon and grabbed hotel rooms. We found a place just a handful of miles from the northern start of the Parkway.

After lunch, we hopped on at the top and motored south.

I do exist! Fuzzygalore at Blue Ridge Parkway Sign

I do exist!

Luck really must’ve been on our side. There was no traffic in front of us, no traffic behind us and we were treated to the most glorious summer weather.

Speed Triple and WeeStrom on the Blue Ridge Parkway

When riding the Parkway, there are times when the trees give way to views that are simply breathtaking. Seeing the expanse of the mountains and valley below as they roll on… just beautiful.

There were moments while we were riding that seemed “perfect.” Moments that you want to drink in and savor forever.

Rock Point Overlook Blue Ride Parkway

Throughout the ride, my Speed Triple felt absolutely perfect. Don’t you love it when your bike feels that way? Like the two of you are completely connected, moving through the road in effortless unison?

This ride was the best way to end the day.

Speed triple and Weestrom on the Blue Ridge


One of My New Favorite Road Signs

Today was a long day in the saddle. I have that tired and windburned feeling you get from riding all day. But, its all worth it because I had a great day.

While on the Blue Ridge Parkway today, I finally got a chance to snap a photo of a road sign that cracks me up every time I see it:

Sudden Curve Ahead Sign
Ahhhhhhhhh!


The Ugly Ducklings Ride Again!

Bill and I danced along the Blue Ridge Parkway on our two ugly ducklings. They kinda make a nice couple though, don’t they?

Weestrom and Speed Triple - Blue Ridge Parkway Sign


Buena Vista, Indeed

Have you ever seen a more perfectly named overlook? Buena Vista Overlook – Along the Blue Ridge Parkway

Buena Vista Overlook Blue Ridge Parkway


A Perfect Moment on the Parkway

Sometimes during the course of a ride, you get the distinct feeling that you are bearing witness to a perfect moment in time.

It’s in the way the sun casts its light. It’s in the temperature. It’s in the feel of the breeze. It’s the clouds, the sky, the scenery, the curve of the road…

I found one such moment in the golden glow of a field.

Golden field in Virginia


Sights from the Road: Love Road

Located on the northern end of the Blue Ridge Parkway in Virginia are Love Gap and Love Road. I just couldn’t pass by without taking a photo!

Love Gap Blue Ridge Parkway

Is there any better name for a road?

Love Road Blue Ridge Parkway

I love love 🙂

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.

You’re welcome.

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.

Sun over the mountains

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:

“That’s some outfit ya got on there, Fuzz.”

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.

REVIT Summer socks

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.


The Sunrise Outside My Window

When I got up and looked outside of my hotel window this morning, the sun was rising over the gauzy backdrop of the Blue Ridge mountains.

Sunrise in Virginia outside of my window
Squeezed beneath the hotel entry way sat bikes from New York, Ontario, Rhode Island and North Carolina. Further proof that if the riding is good, people will come from all over to check it out.

Back home on Long Island… New York motorcycle plates only :-/


Whoopsie: Even a Camera Needs to Wear Good Gear

I left home deciding against taking my DSLR because I didn’t want to care about it. Instead, I decided that on this trip I would use my iPhone and my old G9 as backup.

Apparently feeling slighted by being third banana, my G9 camera made the decision to commit suicide at 70mph. I had no choice but to stand by or sit, as it were and watch in my side mirror as it’s little, black body bounced and spun on the roadway finally coming to rest on the shoulder. It was thoughtful enough to avoid being run over.

Even if the camera were destroyed, I still wanted the memory card that was inside of it. So, I doubled back to pick it up.

I didn’t know what I would find. It could have been gruesome.

G9 after falling at 70mph

Instead, because my camera was dressed for the crash, it came away relatively unscathed and works just fine. I’m actually quite shocked!


A Great Way To Start The Day – Heading West on Route 39

Breathing in deeply, the morning felt cool. As our wheels turned past the silent rolls of hay and red barns of the landscape, I felt like a giant. This was my day and anything I chose to do with it would be spun into gold.

Route 39 road sign

With my camera collected from the side of the road, Bill and I hopped on route 39 and began to carve our way west. There wasn’t another car in sight as we began to sew a jagged line across the byway. Zig-zagging along, it was just us two cruising.

The view from an overlook on Route 39

Bill is a great traveling companion. He’s game for anything. That made my ride much more comfortable because I didn’t have to do that dance of wondering if the person you’re riding with is rolling their eyes when you pull over to take a picture of something… again.

Looking east on route 39

The last time that I’d made the trip across 39, it was with Kenny and a bunch of our friends in 2008. I thought about that quite a bit that as the miles ticked by. That and just how much I was missing my family.

The Goshen Gap overlook
Chloe was off being glamorous in California with family. Her face grinning back at me from in front of the Golden Gate bridge made me smile each time I took out my phone for a photo. It helped to keep the I miss you so much daggers to the heart at bay.

Then there was my other half, Kenny. Scheduling kept him from being able to take this ride with us. A classic case of “real life” interfering with fun.

You get so used to someone being your partner through life that when they aren’t there at key moments – their absence is palpable. Of course you are still enjoying yourself, but you wish they could see what you’re seeing with their own eyes.

Tuscarora (Clinton) Sand - West Virginia, Route 39

Tuscarora (Clinton) Sand – West Virginia, Route 39

Traveling makes me feel like possibility is limitless in my life. I feel like being out there in the world without a strict schedule to keep and following the path that your whims take you on – is where I get the chance to see more of the real me. There is a calmness, a clear thinking, a relaxation that comes along with traveling that is addictive.

It was a good thing we still had more riding to do. I didn’t want to come down from my high.


Laddering Across West Virginia

Route 219 Sign in Marlinton West VirginiaRolling in through the town of Marlinton on route 39, I was disheartened to see that the lovely little train depot that had burned in 2008, was in the same state. I was hoping to round the corner to find that it had been rebuilt. I suppose money for such things is probably scarce.

The town of Marlinton was empty on that Sunday morning. Certainly, that would be a good omen that that surrounding roads would also be free of much traffic. And it was so. We hardly saw another vehicle as we made our way up Route 219 and then on to 250. A girl could really get used to that kind of thing!

Route 219 is actually 535 miles in length. It runs in the south from Peterstown, Wv all the way up to West Seneca, Ny near Buffalo. Our stint on the road was only to be a drop in the bucket of it’s length. But what a great drop it was. 219 is a beautiful, fast paced sweeping road in this section flanked by beautiful greenery on all sides.

We motored 60 miles from Marltinton to Huttonsville, where we picked up Route 250 east to ladder back across West Virginia.

Along the way I was able to snap two more photos of the beautiful Mail Pouch Tobacco barns that I just love to pieces.

Mail Pouch Tobacco Barn on West Virginia 219 Mail Pouch Tobacco barn on West Virginia 219

We also stopped in to have a look around Sharp’s Country Store in Slatyfork. You could spend a half hour in there poking around, but the road was calling our name. I bought a postcard and we were once again on our way.

Sharps Country Store Slatyform West Virginia

There were sections of Route 250 that were just freshly paved. That made for a little extra joy as we hit some of the undulating switchbacks that climb the mountain sections.

The view on Route 250

Our plan for the day had been to float around West Virginia and then make our way to around the Pennsylvania border. That would mean that our final leg home the following day could be an enjoyable ride instead of a well-timed slab ride trying to avoid the traffic nightmare that is getting to the east of NYC. Doing battle at the river crossings can be a nightmare.

Under gray skies, we began our ascent to north of the Mason Dixon line and grabbed rooms in Chambersburg, Pa. We arrived under the canopy of the hotel just as the first few spits of rain started to come down.

Our day fittingly ended under the arch of a beautiful rainbow.


I Found More Love in West Virginia

It’s so perfect that I stumbled across this heart in a gas station in West Virginia. I found my first “heart and sole” picture in the same state in 2008.

Heart and Sole Gas Station Heart

View some of the other “love” I’ve run across.


Not Quite a Double Rainbow, But…

… I was pretty excited about it anyway.

After riding around West Virginia all day, we made our way to Chambersburg, Pa. and got rooms for the night. It was there that a full rainbow stretched across the sky.

On one end of the bow, Denny’s.

All Rainbows lead to Dennys

On the other, a Gulf station.

Rainbow to Gulf Station

It had all the makings of a perfect Ride to Eat.

Eat here and get gas! 🙂


Sometimes You Have To Go It Alone

I sat on the curb in a Pennsylvania gas station and looked up at Bill. The backdrop behind him was a rolling green mountain, under the brightest blue sky. We’d already put just about 100 miles in for the morning.

In that moment, I began to rattle off several reasons why I didn’t have to go home. That’s where we were heading on that Monday morning. I received no argument from Bill, probably because he too has a wandering heart. Instead, by 9:30am my trip plans were changed. Bill was going to continue on back to Long Island, and  I was going… north-ish?

Pennyslvania Route 125

With a hug and an ‘attagirl,‘ Bill’s high-viz jacket faded off down the road. There I sat on the curb looking over the map, trying to figure out just where the heck I would be going. I quickly scribbled some notes on a pad I took from the Holiday Inn Express and stuck it into the map pocket my tankbag.

Random Fact:
I am incapable of leaving the pen and pad a hotel room provides behind. I ALWAYS take them with me when I check out of a room.

Other than a string of route numbers, I had no plan. I was just going to do an homage to Forest Gump and keep riding until I didn’t feel like riding anymore.

There it was… that feeling of freedom that I relish when it comes. It’s the one where your inner self feels wide open, you feel  unfettered and it fills you completely like a swell. Hello, old friend.

Rolling Hills of Pennsylvania

As I cruised along under the cerulean sky, I was loose.  All the while smiling along to the song of the engine. I was doing my best to enjoy the riding itself and still have enough brainpower leftover to take in all that I was seeing. And damn, it felt good.

I stopped in the town of Shamokin to call Kenny and let him know that I wouldn’t be home as originally planned. I was going to stay out riding a little longer. He was happy that I was happy but he said he missed me.

In the city of Shamokin Pennsylvania

I also let  him know I was flying solo now.  It was that statement that made him deliver the magic words that gripped me by the heart, “now i’ll worry.”

I hate those words. I hate those feelings; the ones that your other half feels – and your own that are laced with guilt at making them wonder if you’re okay.

But, that is the nature of our lives together. You’ve got to let the people you love most spread their wings and put your faith in the idea that they will do everything within their power to stay safe.

And so, with a few photos snapped in town I was off and rolling again.


Welcome Back to the Empire State

Following the Hancock Highway, I crossed the border from Pennsylvania into New York in the town of Hancock. For hours and hours, my belly had been growling. I felt the pasty, dry, mouth that comes from being foolish enough to not stop and take a drink when you should.

Welcome to New York sign - Hancock New York

With only a crumpled $5 bill in my pocket it was slim pickins on what to do in order to stave off the hunger and dehydration. And there it was, like an oasis in the desert… The Golden Arches.

Random Fact:
I’m paranoid about using sketchy gas station ATM machines and I never seem to have any cash on me. Hence only $5 in my pocket.

I don’t usually eat McDs. I know, I’ve mentioned that before. Trips to their shops only seem to come at desperate times; like late night in Lake Como, late night in Reykjavik and a rainy day in Liechtenstein.

I got a bottle of water and a cheeseburger and still had change left over. Its good to know you can get something to eat for less that $3 in just about any town in the US. It may not be ideal but its something.

When I’d walked in, I could feel the eyeballs tracking on me. Wanting nothing more than to be away from their questioning looks, I marched my road-filthy self back outside and ate standing in the parking lot looking at the map.

Now where the heck should I go?

Route 10 in New York

With my tank and my belly full, I pointed my wheels north on county 67 to route 10.

It was just me, no other traffic at all humming along. I was making great time on the fast two-laner, but I’m not sure why. I guess sometimes you’ve just got a bit of get up and go you have to work out of your system.

I kept tracking north and east with no destination in mind yet.


The Long Shadows Were Calling Me Home

When the shadows start getting long, that’s when I start missing home. I continuously walk the line of having the curiosity of a person who likes to wander and one whose heartstrings reel them back home. Those two facets of a life can be hard to manage.

Catskill Park Sign and Speed Triple

I’d wound my way around to the edge of Catskill park. This was where things started to get “familiar”. These were the roads where I cut my teeth riding.

I have to believe that everyone who leaves home finds themselves gripped by moments of loneliness. When you’re standing on the side of the road drinking things in with your eyes and there is no one to turn to and say, Did you see that? or to share an unspoken, knowing glance with – that divide can feel immeasurable. Those moments can feel like an eternity. Being “close” to home made it all that much harder.

Patridge Family Bus - Ashland New York

Gripped by my own sentimental weakness, I began my decent from the atmosphere and started working towards home.

In many ways it felt like a failure that I wasn’t able to work past my suddenly overwhelming homesickness. But, the idea of sleeping in my own bed started to push those clouds away. There was just the pesky matter of already having 450 miles on the seat for the day and a solid 200 more if I wanted to head home the “un-fun” way.

Decisions, decisions…


Following My Heart Back Home

I carry Love with me everywhereI stood in the gas station near Windham, NY, sweating. My shadow stretched out on the ground in front of me, surrounded by an orangey glow. This was it. Decision time.

In an instinctive move, I stepped forward, swung my leg over the saddle of my bike and turned the key. It was time to head south; time to head home.

Kenny wasn’t expecting me, so I was hoping he’d be excited to hear the unmistakeable sound of my Speed Triple humming in our driveway. Just 200 more hot slab miles stood between me and our little house. I put the hammer down and tried to ignore that sting that was starting to radiate across my hindquarters.

Our house is home of the best hugs in the world.

The following morning when Kenny came shuffling down the hall, I was already up and dressed to roll. “Where are you going now?” he asked.  Unfortunately, I hadn’t planned anything beyond getting my butt on the ferry and crossing the Long Island Sound, so I said… “I don’t know.”

View from the Port Jefferson Ferry

I had an 1:15 minutes to figure it out while I sat on the deck of the boat. What was the rush? I kissed my honey goodbye and headed for the ferry.

There was still more riding to be done.


People Watching on the Ferry

The ladder on the ferryThough I was on line for the early ferry, the heat of the day was already rising. It was going to be a hot one.

I was the only motorcyclist on board the boat. And as such, people were apt to look at me. I was after all dressed in full motorcycle gear on a hot summer day. It didn’t help that my clothing was road dirty and covered in bugs. I felt self conscious and ugly.

After purchasing my ticket, I quickly scuttled outside to the upper deck of the boat where I could sit outside and enjoy the wind in my hair.

The microcosm that is the ferry was fascinating to observe. Like many other places where people congregate, it is a sea of personalities. There were the business people, glued to their phones; doing very important things on their notebook computers before the boat even left the port. There were the children – full of curiosity and wonder watching the harbor boats bobbing up and down on the water. There were groups of chatty women who seemingly never took a breath between sentences.

people watching the horizon on the ferry

And then… then there were the watchers; the silent ones staring out at the horizon. I liked them best. They were the people on the lookout for some unknown possibility in the place where the water touched the sky.

As I sat, a paper napkin came rolling towards me. It unfolded and danced on the wind. Darting back and forth, going every which way, it floated seemingly without direction or a goal. It was completely at the mercy of the wind.

I don’t think it knew where it was going either.


Great Road Signs: Sharp Curves Next 14 Miles

Some road signs have a way of making a motorcyclist’s heart go pitter-patter.

sharp curves next 14 miles

Narrow Road – Sharp Curves – Next 14 Miles. Yes, please!


Dancing with Strangers on the Road

Riding your motorcycle instead of your office chair feels a little extra sweet, doesn’t it? On this particular Wednesday after hopping off the ferry and heading north I found myself heading up route 8 north from the Connecticut/Massachusetts border.

While the tires of my bike began to eat up the road I spotted another rider a few turns ahead. As I closed in on him, I discovered that it was a gentleman on a vintage bike. He was out enjoying his midweek ride, too.

Did you ever notice that you can “feel” something happen between you and another rider on the road? Though you don’t really know anything about each other, as the gap of distance closes between you, there passes some similar knowledge or understanding; some kind of connection. You become acutely aware of each others presence in a way that you never would in a car.

The two of us rode along together for about 10 miles. I watched the rider’s body shift and lean through the turns and wondered how many times that old bike had made it’s way along those roads.

When my pavement dance ended with my anonymous partner it closed with a wave and a smile. Time well spent together.

Carms Restaurant Charlies Garage

Carm’s Restaurant – Charlie’s Garage – Chester, Ma.