See Rock City Barns

By Fuzzygalore | January 28, 2019 | Comments 5 comments

While riding in North Carolina and Tennessee last fall, I saw three See Rock City barns – one of which was entirely serendipitous.

Isn’t it funny how that happens? Something becomes of interest to you and it begins to show itself in unexpected places – sometimes on a path which you’ve already trod. Maybe my dad was right, water rises to its own level. Do we become magnets for things? Do we disperse our energy into the world and watch it fall like glitter on the air, dusting those things that are supposed to sparkle for our attention?

This Rock City barn in Grainger County, Tennessee was gorgeous. I was graced with a big blue sky, vibrant red barn, and green grass just waving in the wind. Seeing this baby was like being inside of a postcard.

On my way north along Calderwood Highway heading to Marysville, Tennessee, I passed this Rock City Barn. I’d had a vague recollection of seeing it several years before on a trip with friends to the Dragon.

This super-fade was a stone throw from where I saw one of those menacing Giant Chicken Army soldiers in Robbinsville, North Carolina. One minute you’re contemplating your next move in a global war game against fowl beasts and the next thing you know, BAM! Rock City Barn. Life is nothing if not mysteriuos.

*See 7 States from Rock City*
Robbinsville, North Carolina
Google Maps

Interested in seeing some barns yourself? Well, you’re in luck. The Rock City website happens to have a location map for ya.

Not Much Doin’ in Esmont, Virginia

By Fuzzygalore | January 25, 2019 | Comments 4 comments

Have you ever heard of Esmont, Virginia? I hadn’t until I found myself passing through on the way towards the tiny Rockfish post office.

How had I even heard of that? Really, what’s a suburbanite from Long Island with no connection to Virginia and whose only recollection of The Waltons was, “Goodnight, Johnboy” doin’ knowin’ about such things? …the Rockfish post office. I mean, c’mon. Surely this space in my brain was meant for something greater like quantum physics, time travel or how to will my legs to stop growing hair. That’d be useful! But, no. I’m cerebrally filing away rickety old post offices.

Oh well.

Were it not for the backroad whims I follow, I’d miss out on a lot of quiet moments in out of the way places. I s’pose that’s part of the beauty of not planning the fun out of everything. You find yourself meandering through places you wouldn’t generally have cause to be in otherwise.

I know I’d miss out on the wonderin’ about the life lived in those tucked away corners of the world if I didn’t slow my roll through places like Esmont.

Who was Miller? Where’d they go? I’ll just have to keep wondering.

Stumblin’ Upon Some Backroad Petroliana

By Fuzzygalore | January 24, 2019 | Comments 3 comments

In October of 2018, I spent some time bumming around on the Bonneville. My meandering route took me down through Virginia, North Carolina, Tennessee and Kentucky before I started making my way back east to New York through West Virginia, Maryland and Pennsylvania.

Not having a set route or a plan is my usual road trip vibe. I leave home with a general sense of where I want to go or things I might want to visit. But, other than that I try to leave myself wiggle room to add and subtract along the way. After all, it is a big gorgeous world out there. You never know what wonderful thing is waiting for you around the next corner.

Not long after visiting the husk of the Underwood & Petty Service Station in Strawberry Plains, Tennessee, I had to slam on the brakes and pull a quick U-y to get a good look at this building:

I can’t say for sure whether this was an actual business or just the trappings of a collector-type. Looking at the details on the building and the “fire door” sign through the window, maybe it did operate as a store of some type. Whatever the case may be, it was nice to stumble across it.

Sadly, I have no stinkin’ idea where it is. I’d be only too glad to share the location. For now, it’ll have to remain a mystery.

Last Night I Dreamt of Ravens

By Fuzzygalore | January 20, 2019 | Comments 15 comments

Last night I dreamt of ravens; ravens hiding amongst a murder of crows. Try as they might to unassumingly blend with the other corvids, I saw them as clear as day. True greatness cannot remain hidden. Like water against rock, it fights it’s way free.

Raven, did you come to warn me of misfortune or perhaps betrayal? Was your prophecy that of wisdom? I want to take heed but as in so many matters, I simply do not understand. In the off chance you are taking requests, a message from the god of truth and healing would be nice. Living with the knowledge that I know so little is a new paper cut each day.

You’ve come to me many times in the last year, Raven. More times than in the sum of my whole life. You have been calling out on well-worn paths. But, until recently, I never saw you, never heard your voice. Were you always there while I was busy sleepwalking?

One autumn afternoon, I heard you before I could see you. You were invisible, or my eyes were blind. I know not which. There was only your call carried on the wind. Though we’d not met, I knew your voice, I knew it was you on the far side of my sight. The omniscient voice told me that there was something more beyond my reach. But, the first step was to believe.

Do you remember when you called to me from the leafless tree over the river? It was just you and me. I stood listening as the sun reflected on your blue-black wings; you told me a secret. The knowledge was only for me. When the strangers came to see you, you said nothing more and I knew it was time for me to go. Were you there to guide my soul towards a new life?

That morning in the rain, you perched exposed, silently watching the fog. There were many places nearby in which to seek shelter, to shield yourself from the harshness of the elements. But you sought them not. Head down, you did not turn away from discomfort. You met it head on, diminishing its power over you. My wish for you was a laurel wreath.

Was that you, Apollo?

Well, Would’ya Look At That. It’s Tuesday.

By Fuzzygalore | January 13, 2019 | Comments 8 comments

Except, now it isn’t Tuesday anymore. It’s Sunday. And if you’re reading this in the future it might be neither one of those days, or maybe it is. The future is so unpredictable.

Though I’ve thought about it a good 150 times since the calendar turned the page, this is my first official post of 2019. And, I’m here to report there are still no flying cars, I never see anyone wearing a silver unitard, and worst of all, I don’t have a robot maid. So far, living in the future ain’t all it was cracked up to be in the cartoons and Victorian postcards.

Incidentally, I have many questions about this postcard depicting what life would be like in the year 2000. Firstly, why is everyone in a lake and why is there so much traffic? And how is that walking stick gonna help Mr. Top hat if he is in said lake? And… the horse? AND, not one of these people look like they’re getting royally chafed in the armpits even though their full bodyweight is being suspended with rope.

The waterwheel penny farthing looks pretty cool though, you have to admit. What could possibly go wrong with that design?

Here on Long Island, 2018 threw deuces and 2019 swaggered in asking if it could get a “what-what,” with a 60-degree day. Given the circumstances, it only seemed right that I did, in fact, give it a what-what and welcomed the new year on two wheels. My hope is that it that it sets the tone for the months to come.

But, I haven’t been out for a ride since. It’s been too damned cold. My chill tolerance seems to have diminished, even with heated gear. Instead, I’ve been keeping myself busy with other stuff and junk and am feeling pretty good about it.

Maybe I should be more judicious about giving out those what-whats, all willy-nilly-like. My first lesson of the new year.

Happy New Year 🙂

Category: Motorcycle