"#*@&!" I said aloud. It was 3:30 on Saturday afternoon and I finally removed the drain plug that was stuck in my FJ1200's oil pan only to find a thin sliver of thread stuck to the bolt. I knew that the bolt would never tighten again. My plan was simply to change the bike's oil and get on the road from Jersey City for a week of running through the mountains of West Virginia, Tennessee, North Carolina and Georgia, but getting going was not going to be easy. I was afraid that I would lose two days of travel time if I couldn't get the bike into the shop that afternoon. I called my dealer, Circle Cycle, where, Luckily, they agreed to wait for me. With that and some help from my local auto parts store, things looked as if they just might not fall apart. A temporary plug just barely holding the FJ's oil in got me up to the shop.
It was about 4:30 when I arrived at the shop. Tim, one of Circle's mechanics was waiting for me. As he put the bike up on the lift he said "I want you to remember that the engine is probably at about 200 degrees Celsius, but I'm still going to work on it for you." He did, and after about an hour and a half I left there with four fresh quarts of Spcetro Gold and a brand new Helicoil and drain plug in the oil pan. I got home, cleaned up the mess that I had left in front of my garage and finished packing. My first thought was to get a good night's sleep and an early start the next morning. Then I thought, "I'm not going to get beaten out of a day on the road by a drain plug." I checked my trusty Super 8 hotel directory (I did that more than once this trip) and found a room in Carlisle, PA -- about 180 miles away. It was the last one they had.
Knowing that a room was waiting for me up ahead made getting on the road a lot easier. It was 9:30 at on a cool September night. The run out I-78 through Allentown to I-81 and Harrisburg was familiar to me. All I had to do was just watch the miles go by and note the landmarks as they passed. Another reason I was running late that day was that I decided that I needed an electric vest. I had won a gift certificate at a dealership way up in Westchester County at the Ramapo 500 and decided that this was just what I wanted. I called the dealer and yes, they had one. It was a basic Eclipse, no thermostat, just an on-off switch. So, I rode up to get it. The trip for the vest combined with the oil change set me back about 6 hours. As I rode through the clear night deeper into Pennsylvania the temperature began to drop sharply. A nearly full moon lit the road ahead. Before I left I tested the vest, just to see if it worked. Now I turned it on for real. I was amazed at the difference it made. Not only was I beginning to warm up, but I found myself much more alert. The energy that I was spending thinking about being cold was directed toward riding. I stopped for dinner at an all night diner somewhere past Roadside America. As usual the service was slow and they had run out of the chicken soup that looked so tempting on the menu. Around 2:00 AM I pulled into the motel. The night clerk was suprised to have someone come in that late, but they had a room, their last, with my name on it.
West Virginia 28 went in the right direction and spent a lot of time in the Monongahela National Forest. I've always had good luck with the roads that go through our National Forests. They are usually well maintained and often twisty. This was no exception. The road spent most of its time following the meanders of one part of the Potomac river or another. I stopped at Sennaca Rocks to watch the rock climbers on the shear 4,000 foot face. From there the road headed up onto one of the Appalachian ridges. 50 miles later I see a sign 'National Radio Astronomical Observatory -- Tours weekend 9 AM to 4 PM.' I look at the FJ's clock. It's 3:45. I decide to check it out. I'm the only one there, except for the tour guide. "Is it too late for the tour?" I ask. "It's been a quiet afternoon," says the guide, "and I'm in no rush to go anywhere, it's not too late." We both board a diesel bus. He explains that spark plugs generate electronic noise that interferes with the antenna's reception. The diesel doesn't spark, so no interference. We pass through a gate with a "NO" sign with a spark plug in it. All along the narrow road are five giant dish antennas. Each one pointed into the sky. We get to the end of the road and the guide shows me where the largest dish was. It blew down in a wind storm a year or two ago. They are setting the foundation for a replacement. The guide says that one of the projects that they are working on is the Search for extra terrestrial intelligence (SETI). "Its one of those high profile but low productivity projects," he explained as I left. From there it was across the Highlands Scenic Highway, onto W.Va. 55 and down toward the New River gorge and Beckley, W.Va. All of them are nice roads through beautiful mountains. It got dark quickly. Just outside of Beckley I stopped for coffee. As I removed my glasses so I could take off my helmet, one of the ear pieces broke off. "I'll deal with it in the morning," I thought. I finished my coffee and rode into Beckley.
By the time I made it down the twisting road to Cade's Cove (by far the best campground in the Great Smoky Mountain National Park) it was dark, moonless and perfectly clear. Aiming my headlight at what I thought was my campsite, I pitched my tent. " I've done this more times in the dark than the light this year" I thought. As I settled in I realized that it doesn't get dark at night in Jersey City. I had forgotten just how many stars you could see once you got away from the glow of New York City. I spent a long time that night looking into the heavens.
The Crossroads of Time is not a state of mind but rather a motel/gas station/ mini- mart/road-racer pit-stop/soon to be motorcycle campground that straddles Deal's Gap. As I got off of the bike I noticed someone working on a bike in front of a garage a little way up the parking lot. I walked over to find the owner of the place working on what for the most part looked to be an early Gold Wing (no fairing) with a license plate that said "CYBORG". We talked for a while and he went through the laundry list of bikes that he had incorporated into his CYBORG. He also said that it could make it through the gap in under 10 minutes. After this he dragged out the garden hose and began to rinse off the bike. I knew this could only mean one thing. I was right. Just after I stepped out of the store I caught up with the rain I had been chasing. I put on the rain suit and worked my way down the other side of the mountain. The rest of the day's ride was rather routine, sticking to the main roads and trying to think dry thoughts.
I stopped somewhere near Murphy, NC for lunch. All I remember is that the restaurant was warm and I took quite a while to dry out and finish eating. By late afternoon I had crossed into Georgia and was sitting on the porch of T.W.O. (it stands for Two Wheels Only). It was late of September and the air in the mountains was becoming a bit chilly. It was also the middle of the week and there wasn't any one around. I had found a note confirming that I had the room on the porch for the night. I sat there and enjoyed the silence, just the sound of the leaves rustling and the occasional car in the distance. After 45 minutes or so I heard the sound of bikes working their way up the mountain. A minute or two later a couple of guys on Kawies pulled in. We talked for a while and decided that it was time for supper (not dinner, that's lunch when you are that far south). The Smith House in Dahlonega was their choice. The Smith House offers a family style, all you can eat, meal with any kind of southern-home cooked food you can think of. The guys on the Kawies were on leave from the Air Force in Florida and all they could think about was home cooked food. They were staying in Helen, GA. Helen is a pseudo-Swiss Alpine village in the mountains of North Georgia. It's the kind of touristy place that you're glad you saw once, but know you don't have to see again. The only good thing about Helen is that it has the closest liquor store to TWO. TWO is in a dry county. We finished our supper, wished each other well. They headed back to Helen. They were looking forward to the Octoberfest that was starting the next day. "Bratwurst and Beer!" was the last thing I heard as they rode off. I headed back up the mountain and settled in for a quiet night's sleep.
Later that morning we loaded up and headed north on GA 60. The plan was to go across US 129 and head up into the hill country of Kentucky. About 20 miles out Winn pulled up next to me and said that my headlight had gone out. Luckily right up the road was Blue Ridge Yamaha in Blue Ridge, GA. They had the bulb in stock, no problem. Then I asked, "Now how do I put this in?" , my stock head lamp having lasted all the 28,000 miles the bike had on it. "Why don't you just pull it around back," said the man at the counter. Ten minutes later we were back on the road. Having been saved from heaven only knows how much time of learning just where to reach and twist to change the lamp. We continued into North Carolina. After a quick side trip along a beautiful stream in the Nantahala National Forest we headed up to Fontana Dam, one of the larger TVA dams. We stopped to stretch our legs and look up at the dam. Nine miles ahead lay Deal's gap. It was a clear dry day and both of us were anticipating the ride. We pulled into the Crossroads of Time hoping to get something to drink for ourselves and our machines only to find that the power was out. We waited for a while and talked to the numerous Gold Wingers heading to or from a Wing event going on nearby. Luckily the power came back and we were able to gas up and head across Deal's Gap.
This time the ride was exhilarating. Working through the turns there was little time to take in the scenery as we skirted the Great Smoky Mountain National Park. As we cleared the forest, the road opened up and swept along the Tennessee River. We broke off and headed across the Foothills Parkway toward Townsend, TN. We continued crossing the ridges of the Appalachians whenever we could as we headed through Tennessee, Virginia and into Kentucky. As the day wore on I began to notice an unevenness in the way that power was being delivered to my rear wheel. The engine sounded OK and everything else seemed all right so I ignored it. Night brought us into Harlan, KY. We stayed at the Bays motel. It wasn't quite the Bates motel, but not far from it.
It was late morning by the time we returned to Holt. I knew that Winn was hoping to be in Cleveland by dinner time so we said our good byes and he went on his way. After a break for lunch, and a bit of wrenching and pounding, the FJ had a new rear tire, wheel bearings and chain. What a difference it made. The smooth steady power of the 1200 cc engine was again making its way to the road. The bike had a young feel to it again. Ohio 555 was a fun ride.The road runs along a ridge so its turns aren't that tight, but it does have some interesting changes in elevation. It was getting late and my family was holding dinner for me so the rest of the ride to Cleveland was on the interstate. When I reached my dad's house I checked in with Winn. He had made it home safely.