Sunday

As I stand around watching vendors pack up, I unexpectedly strike up a conversation with the co-owner of BMW of Atlanta. We had briefly corresponded by e-mail some time back and it's good to put a face to the e-mail. We chat for a spell. Good motorcycle dealers have my tip of the hat. Theirs is not an easy undertaking.

Before heading out, I touch bases with Carol (SKERT) regarding her riding plans. She mentions that she's riding with her friend Cindy, a volunteer at this rally. Unfortunately, Cindy's husband could not attend, leaving the two women free to cavort as they wish. J

They're planning on riding Cherohala tomorrow, but it seems that rain may be part of the forecast. She mentions possibly being at the T.W.O. campground on Wed. I leave them with the thought that it would be nice if we crossed paths. . .

The rally is now over. It was the one fixed part of this trip. The rest of this tour is open. I now choose roads with a loosely general direction, nothing specific. My destination tonight is Suches, but there are many ways to get there. : )

As I head into the day, I soon find myself enjoying a brisk pace on some great 4-lane mountain sweepers.

Getting lost in a nice area is quite pleasant. The morning is wonderful and I again find myself inhaling deep breaths of sweet mountain air.

Unexpectedly, and in the middle of nowhere, my reserve light goes off. Sportbikes don’t usually have a fuel gauge, and I completely forgot to look at my tank mileage before heading off this morning!

I'm in the mountains with about a 15-20 mile reserve range. According to my maps, it seems that every small town is beyond that range. I stop by the side of the road and ponder. There's nothing like the feeling that you don’t have enough gas to make the next town. Hmm.

I get off my bike, stretch my legs and look around. It's a beautiful, sunny, and mild day and I'm enjoying it fully. All right. I choose the closest town and start heading that way at 40mph. This should sufficiently extend my range.

And so it does, barely.

On the way to Batesville, I come up on an elderly man driving a Crown Victoria. The road is quite snaky and tight curves come in rapid succession. We go on for a while, and then I see the most incredible thing. On tight left-hand corners - most of which are blind - he drives fully into the oncoming lane, clipping the inside apex and then drifts out to his lane. The first time that I see him do this, I'm stunned. As I follow him, he does this over and over. I'm horrified.

I've seen pick up trucks somewhat-straddle tight lanes and half-expect that. But this chap is fully into the next lane.

With the road so tight, he can unexpectedly find himself face to face with an oncoming bike, another car, a truck etc.

After five minutes of this we finally get to a short straight and he pulls over, signaling for me to pass. As I go by I slow down and momentarily debate stopping to have a chat with him. Maybe he doesn't realize how dangerously he's driving. Then again, maybe that's just the way locals drive here, and he's definitely a local. So I move on. But for the rest of that day, I approach each blind corner with extra caution.

Bruno
Montreal, Canada