Newsgroups: rec.motorcycles Distribution: world From: sasmjw@laverda.unx.sas.com (Martyn Wheeler) Reply-To: sasmjw@unx.sas.com Organization: SAS Institute Inc. Cary NC Subject: Right Coast Ride on a Spagthorpe (Part 2) Summary: We went slower, and slower, and slower... By the end of part 1 we had merged two groups of Denizens into one, and this group was heading north on Rt.16. Amy Swint was leading on TheMoped, her husband Swane was following on the Springer Softail, Hilary Perkins was next in line in a Geo Metro Convertible, and I was bringing up the rear on the Spagthorpe Wolfhound, except that some idiot in a Ford Aerostar was right behind us and I'm sure every time Hilary looked in her mirrors all she saw was the van. About half a mile out of the Amoco in Taylorsville, I realised that Amy had been right. She was slow. Some of this could be attributed to the lack of a speedometer (how I love it when a Spagthorpe is more reliable than a Yamaha!), some of it to the scenery and the interesting road, and some of it to Amy being slow. :-) The speed really didn't matter, though Swane was swinging from side to side rather impatiently every time the road became twisty. The further north we went, the twistier it became, and signs of civilisation were left behind us to be replaced by fields, based around small rivers gouging their way through steep valleys. Frequently the road would be lined with tall banks of dirt with sparse grass clinging to a bare existence, and we would lose sight of the landscape for a while only to find it was even more spectacular when the view cleared around the next corner. We arrived at the intersection with Route 18, and Amy swung onto it, apparently ignoring the sign that said: ROAD CLOSED MILES AHEAD LOCAL TRAFFIC ONLY We all hoped that " miles ahead" meant "many miles ahead" and followed her with only a little hesitation. I saw Swane glance at the sign with a some trepidation. Our progress slowed once we were on Rt.18. The countryside was magnificent, and the houses were more infrequent -- it was no longer certain that the river valleys were indeed being farmed. The road itself twisted left and right, climbed hills, dived into valleys, and became everything one could desire for a gentle cruise on a bike. The main reason we slowed was that our leader slowed. The road was winding enough now that TheMoped apparently wanted to take things easy. For left-hand turns, Amy Slowed, but having the chair to help in cornering; Swane looked impatient. For right-hand turns, Amy *SLOWED*, not really wanting to lift the chair and be the first to dump a bike on the RCR; Swane looked impatient but more sympathetic. I can understand Amy's caution: imagine the arrival at the campground: "Hey folks," we would say, "someone dropped their bike already!" The assembled denizens would crowd around... Was that a scratch on the perfect chrome of the Springer? No. Was the left mirror on the Spagthorpe a little out of line? Yes, but it came from the factory that way (bikes for a drive-on-the-left country had them asymmetrical the other way). Perhaps, ha ha, the Geo Metro had blown over? NOT! Hold on, Daughters of Democracy, what is this we see here? A bent footpeg, cracked mirror, dented tank -- but surely not? A three-wheeled vehicle is the most stable of all, and Amy *dropped* it? The postings would rise to 400 a day, as she was berated on rec.moto... Let add right now, so that Amy does not get a reputation like Tom Barber, AMY IS THE PERSON WHO DID NOT DROP A SIDECAR RIG ON THE RCR! So we understood her slow progress. Anyway, it gave us more time to look at the scenery... I was beginning to regret my choice of the Wolfhound for these roads. Although a very fine motorcycle, I must admit that when Julian, Lord Spagthorpe, visualised a bike for the American market he did not have in mind small twisting goat-trails over steep hills. Between first and second gears, the shift is somewhat jerky, and more and more often the automatic was deciding to do this while leaned over in a turn. A much better choice for this section of the ride would have been a late-model Doberman (not that any were imported into the US, I believe) -- that particular model was test-ridden frequently on the tight roads around the Peter Tavy facility, I gather; according to Roger, an ex-neighbour of mine who was in the CID, the West Devon Constabulary had become accustomed to the exhaust note, and made a practice of looking somewhere else while the prototype, often with Julian himself in the saddle, flew past them at quite unbelievable speeds. Ah, well, back to reality. I was not on a Spagthorpe Doberman, and the Wolfhound beneath me was making it quite plain it Was Not Built For This. I switched off the air conditioning, which was not really needed in the cooler mountain air, and that helped greatly as without having to strain against the accessory drive, the beast would now mostly stay in second, and the only real problem was manoeuvring the sheer bulk around the tight spots. I could still have gone faster than Amy, though... :-) So, on and on and on we went, enjoying the scenery, occasionally meeting a ratty-looking pickup coming the other way at high speed, apparently happy to run two wheels in the dirt to avoid having to slow down...strange, but courteous -- they always gave us plenty of room. Eventually, Beaver Creek Road appeared on our right. Amy slowed down, turned onto it, and pulled over, fumbling at the directions. Having checked the next stage of the trip, she pulled back on the tarmac, and we headed down what can only be described as an awesome road. Almost any road in rural North Carolina that has a body of water in the name is interesting. So we have Johnson Pond Road, West Lake Road, Sunset Lake Road, and now to add to these, the finest of them all: Beaver Creek Road. Many of those who came from the North and East did not travel this way, and missed out on the experience. I just can't do justice to it in words. Even Amy sped up around the left handers, especially the high-bank 270 degree downhill sweeper. We did our best to keep up -- although Swane was a master of the Springer and stayed close on TheMoped's tail, Hilary's Geo and my Wolfhound were a little farther behind. (I was, to be honest, finding the Spagthorpe's long wheelbase a real pain.) Fortunately the right-handers were followed almost invariably by left-handers, and for these it seemed that the method for cornering TheMoped was to stop, look around, ease gently around in first gear, then accelerate slowly. It was at this point that Amy did not drop a sidecar rig on the RCR. Over the course of the road, it must be said that the two largest vehicles did not exactly fall behind. All too soon Beaver Creek Road ended (although later Amy was to say on several occasions that the road was sheer hell) and we took a short mile hop on Rt.268 to Mount Pleasant Road. This was again full of twisties, although not as fun as Beaver Creek, but was also full of gravel in strange and unexpected places -- one of the beauties of Beaver Creek Road had been the cleanliness of the surface. Swane was quite clearly bored. Once we turned, he passed TheMoped and sped off to enjoy the bends. We followed at TheMoped's pace, and would always find the Springer Softail waiting another half-mile or so down the road. At the intersection with Mount Zion Road, we found Swane waiting again. As soon as he saw we had made the turning, he took off into the distance, using enough throttle for me to hear the pounding of the Big Twin over the rumble of the W4 beneath me (a full 48cc larger than the Harley!). We followed on as before. Mt Zion Rd was quite different from the previous roads, it seemed to me. A lot of the time it followed the floor of a river valley, although rising and falling across promontaries. There was a more personal feeling to the landscape, as if we were more part of it than the sight-seers we had been before. The pace no longer seemed slow, as we took time to feel the land around us. Finally, Swane waited for us as Mt Zion Rd changed from paved to dirt. We all took it easy at this point, and with a great deal of caution (and a sense of relief) arrived at the High Country Cycle camp at about 3 o'clock or so. [to be continued...I would guess part 3 will be the last] Martyn --------------sasmjw@unx.sas.com----(Martyn Wheeler)----DoD #293-------------- SAS Institute, Inc: (919) 677-8000 ext.7954 H: (919) 839-0092 (Raleigh, NC) For sale: Autodynamics Formula Vee: $2500 obo Guzzisti without a Goose.