Ride Report

This is a report of my journey from downtown Manhattan,
to a Beemer rally in Deals Gap, hosted by Bob McMahon.
The inspiration for this and other very well attended K1200RS rallies
have come from the excellent K1200RS free Internet forum
I-BMW.com, managed by Vic Salemme.

Photo Credit: Vic Salemme & Darren Ward

Thursday, September 27, 2001, Downtown Manhattan "Ground Zero"

My clock radio gradually becomes louder at 5:50 AM. I roll around in bed and turn it off. Snooze button was not necessary I was already wide-awake. It's time for the DGRII trip to begin. I had packed my Marsee 38L seat bag and 10L tank bag the night before and I was ready to "Escape from New York." That's all I needed for my soon to be 2000 mile roundtrip travel. I like to travel light and do not think that saddlebags belong on the K. Time to take a break from all that tension, roadblocks, checkpoints, detours and everything else I had to deal with in the past couple of weeks. Only a block and a half from my bed a combined 300 story building complex collapsed because some people thought that God for certain happens to be on their side and cheering for their cause. Of course the real truth is about 'energy' or in simpler terms 'oil.' Oil is the cause and the effect. We all need it and we all use it and the only way for us to enjoy the cheapest rates in the entire civilized world is for the U.S. to flex its Super-Power muscles from time to time. Nobody likes a bully, but hey I am glad I am not paying 5 bucks a gallon for my gas. Hence I and everyone else who use gas are partially responsible for this mayhem. I take a quick shower, look at the outside temperature and it is in the 60's. For some reason, in my mind, I refuse to let go of the warm summer temperatures. Want to believe it's forever in the 80s. I am wearing a white T-shirt and my Vanson black leather jacket (yep, that's all!) to cover my top and for the bottom a pair of thick denim-cut black leather pants and Sidi Onroad boots. Grab the tank bag, helmet and seat bag, double lock the door and I am out of here. Not so fast, I couldn't park the bike in my usual garage last night, they didn't let me through the roadblock, I had to park in a garage in SoHo about a mile away. No cabs allowed, so Subway is the only way to get up there. Here I am in full leather, with all my gear standing on a Subway platform at 6:30 waiting for a train to arrive. By 7:00 I was on the road and by 7:20 I was freezing my butt off. How did it get so cold so fast, and how come no one told me? The truth is that I refused to pay attention to the thermometer. I pullover on the side of I-78W somewhere in Jersey and put on the Vanson Streamliner vest, change gloves to a non-perf and off to meet up with Vic and Louis at a Holiday Inn off of I-78 at the last exit in New Jersey. I get there at 8:20. The guys had already fueled up and were packing up their bikes in the lot. A quick "hi, how are you" and a 'fuel' stop at a station next door we are ready to depart. Both Vic and I run V1s with WARD (wireless helmet audio hookup, works like a charm). With Louis' bike nicely nestled in between our two Ks we keep a swift and steady pace through the next few hours. It was really comfortable and hassle free. From time to time we'd hear a beep in our helmets, slow down, investigate the bogey and then pick up the pace and move on. We covered a good distance by lunchtime. We were already in Virginia. At 12:10, on I-81S I hear a long steady beep in my ear, The Ka is lit at full blast and V1 like the good boy that it is pointing to the rear. Last time my Ka rear signal was blasting this hot I was being pulled over. I slowed down to 8 miles below, Vic and Louis are about a couple of hundred yards ahead and have slowed down as well. I look into my rearview mirrors but don't see a LEO, look around me, nothing. So where is this cop? I know from experience this is not a false alarm, can't be. Finally I notice a little radar unit attached to the passenger window on the driver side of this unmarked (no extra lights, no computer) silver-grey Impala. The sedan was passing me very slowly and I'm sure was checking out the V1. It then takes off in hot pursuit of Vic and Louis who were taking it real easy up ahead. I thought for sure he was going to pull all three of us over. He gets to Louis' taxi and wave at him to slow down, Louis gives him one those "who the heck are you" before he notices the badge on his sleeve. That my friend is a classic 'oh shit' moment. The Virginia LEO gets to Vic, points to him to slow down as well. And that's it. He rides with us for a little while and gets out the first exit. Louis was certain that he was out to grab lunch, and nothing could have distracted him from his mission, not even 3 bikes with 2 detectors going 25 over. Man you've got to love this scenario. An hour or so later we pull over for some more 'fuel' and a bite to eat. It was a beautiful sunny day. The three of us sat on a patch of grass and took in sunshine as we ate our fast food. We were already halfway through Virginia, so what do we do, radar or no radar? I said, it doesn't make sense to turn off the detectors in this State and still go at 90. We either obey the law which meant no V1 and ride at the limit, or we keep the units and run for it. Of course telling a K12RS rider to stick to the speed limit is considered blasphemous in the US. I don't need to tell you what we decided, do I? Something about this particular ride was especially sweet, was it the chemistry of the 3 of us, was it the pleasure of being out on the open road after 3 weeks of Ground Zero turmoil, was it the crisp and clear early fall skies of the Eastern U.S. or was it the purr of a freshly serviced K12RS with a new set of rubbers. I have a feeling it may have been option E, "all of the above." By the late afternoon, we make a turn to Rt-64 and a few minutes later we are at the northern entrance to the world famous Blue Ridge Parkway (www.blueridgeparkway.org). A 469-mile-long-serpent coiled atop some of the most scenic mountain ranges in the country and perhaps the world. "The Parkway follows the Appalachian Mountain chain and provides seemingly endless views of many parallel ranges connected by cross ranges and scattered hills. From Shenandoah National Park, the Parkway follows the Blue Ridge Mountains, eastern rampart of the Appalachians, for 355 miles. Then, for the remaining 114 miles, it skirts the southern end of the massive Black Mountains, weaves through the Craggies, the Pisgahs, and the Balsams, and ends in the Great Smokies." In short a motorcyclist's dream road. The three of us pull into a gas station for yet more 'fuel.' But it turned out the place was nearly deserted, with no premium juice. So rather than filling in some, we empty some, which usually is followed by a great sigh of relief. After which Louis confirms by saying something like this: "there are 3 great things in the world for a man, 1- self ejaculation (his word), 2- taking a lick and 3- being admired by your peers." Confucius would have been proud. We look at Vic's map and decide to stop at Buena Vista for gas instead and take off with much reverence for the BRP. We had about 150 miles to do before the turn off to Brian Smith's house. Turn after beautiful turn, after sweet turn, BRP doesn't let down, it truly upholds its image. How often has a product disappointed you? You know when the hype doesn't match the quality. Movies do that to me all the time. They are mostly a waste of money and it's better to wait for the video, or better yet HBO. BRP surpasses its hype. Words don't and can't do justice. Dozens of miles later, I go a little wide on one turn and I get it from Louis. "You could have been killed if a car was coming from the other direction." "You should hang off." "Start hanging off." Start hanging off? On the BRP? Can't I start that somewhere less potent. That's when Vic says: "there is no better place, where else do you have so many turns follow one another." Can't argue with that logic. You see, I have never really needed to hang off, the bike handles beautifully as is, and I have no problem leaning as much as possible to clear through a turn. But one thing I wasn't realizing then was that I had never been in this situation before: endless miles of nothing but twisties. That was when I took my riding to the next step. Stopped on the side of the road, staring out over a sea of mountaintops, the three of us looked at each other and felt a certain calmness. This was a beautiful ride. Little did we know that all that was about to change. Vic asks me to take the lead, I had forgotten about the Buena Vista turnoff. I end up missing it, Vic parks right in the middle of the road at the intersection and waits for me to make a U. I turn around and see 2 other Ks heading toward us. Hands go up in the air in a gesture of total surprise. I know that black and silver Arai anywhere, that's Darren on Marrakech and with another rider on a Dolphin Blue. With me missing the turn off, gave us that extra minute for Darren and David Abramson to catch up with us. We all say hello, still in the middle of the road, blocking the turn off to the village. Next stop, more 'fuel' and then back at it full force. With Darren taking the lead a new dynamics was added to our ride. Somehow that mellow, calm feeling was gone. All 5 of us were wiping it through the BRP, and before you can say Canadian Bacon, we were out onto a local road with a nice straight stretch of land (a rarity in that country) where a few of us hit triple digits (mine was even more in the triples territory, and still couldn't reach the front runners) and minutes later horns-a-honking we enter the Smith's property. It's about 6 and we are all here: Pep who had gotten there earlier, Darren, DavidA, Vic, Louis and I. And minutes later another K pulls in. I didn't recognize the rider at first, but it turned out that he recognized me. It's Rob and this is how he introduces himself. "You know, we met about a year ago, at the dealership in Jersey and you had just changed your rear rim and were wondering how to get it home." And I said, "I remember you, your K75 had broken down and you were waiting for Enterprise Rent a Car to deliver you a car." He kept his K75, but bought himself a Silver/blue K12. Good choice! Brian lives on a few acres of land with 360 view of the mountains. Clean country air, a large house, which he had built himself and a beautiful family. I don't think Brian and I ever connected. Although a genuine nice guy, I think him and I operate on two different frequencies. Sort of like AM, FM. His wife Pauly had lived in the Middle East for a few years with found memories of that region. It was wonderful talking with her, as she reminisced about Saudi Arabia and other Persian Gulf countries. You could tell that she was treated well by the natives. Soon came dinner, followed by chocolate cake, coffee and then sitting around a bun fire, with more beer, some smoke legal and not and what else but shop talk. Shook called in to check up, spoke with him for a few minutes before the handset was yanked out of my hands by Brian. Shook had e-mailed me earlier encouraging me not to give into fear of WTC backlash and make this trip. I was glad that I did. I hit the bed pretty early around 10 or so, and before long I hear voices. Is this house hunted? Am I dreaming this up? It must be around 4:30AM and there are people in the kitchen talking. I wasn't sure if people had risen early, or were still up from the night before. To cut the story short by 6:20 Pep, Brian, Rob, David, Louis and myself were out the door heading for the BRP in total darkness. Darren and Vic, played this a little smarter and stayed in for another hour and left at around 7:30. David a soft-spoken retired high-ranking Army officer and all around genuine nice guy and I were a little short on 'fuel,' and decided to gas up in town about 5 miles away and then catch up with the rest. With 150 watts Motolights a blazin', we "fuel" and follow up the direction to the BRP. We took it nice and slow, dawn and dusk are the most dangerous times to be riding on country roads. That's when all sorts of critters small and large decide to make their presence known. As our bikes warmed up, sky began to gradually brighten and by the time we arrived at the BRP it was daylight. I thought, Brian timed this one perfectly. David and I cruise southbound and I once again found myself really cold and promised to give in, woos up and buy a heated vest the next chance that I get. However that promise wouldn't solve my immediate problem. I am wearing my Vanson, over the Streamliner vest, over a thin long sleeve synthetic pullover, over short-sleeve cotton T-shirt and I am still cold. That's high altitude climate for you. My thin leather Olympia gloves, were of no help. Could someone please explain heated grips on the K12RS? The only work when you don't need them, in 85 degrees weather, or when you are riding at 10mph. If you want to feel these grips work, try them on any other model. My friend's F650GS with hand protectors, has such hot grips that you can't set them on high for too long. And that's an F bike. The show must go on. A little while later, we see two other Ks parked in the rest area to relieve, we pull over, do same, and then the 4 of us continue and soon we run into the rest of the gang parked in another rest area taking the first morning break. As I try to find ways to warm up, Brian walks up to me with his leather gloves completely warm. He says "look, electric gloves" I say to myself lucky bastard, then he points to the muffler. I get it, what a relief as I get my hands close to the hot stainless steel muffler of the K. Oh that felt good. As we wait there Vic and Darren finally catch up to us, and a minute or so prior Pep showed up too on his K12LT with butchered up, Thrush muffler. I like the sound of Pep's can. He managed to marry a Staintune header to a $29.99 off the rack muffler courtesy of Brian. Pep said he didn't feel any noticeable increase in HP but a bit more torque was present. I thought, who cares about HP, get a load of that low tone growl. That takes guts by the way, to fool around with such expensive machines. It was after 7 as we began our caravan southbound. Brian was leading the group and keeping a steady pace at about 60. The limit on the BRP is 45 and the word is that LEOs have a low tolerance for speeders. We lose sight of Pep in the very beginning, it turned out he had his own agenda. I kept the last position and Vic was just in front of me. 60mph on the BRP riding on a K1200RS doesn't provide much of a challenge. Soon Vic and I were looking for ways to enhance the experience. First Darren pulls into an overlook, the scenery is too good to pass up. Talk about "smelling the roses." If you find yourself on the BRP, don't be seduced by those serpentine roads to the point that you miss the rolling views. Darren's move triggered an idea. Moments later Vic drops out as well. Then I also make a U and go back to see what these guys are up to. The temperature was rising, sky was clear, air was of the finest mountain quality money can buy and if that's not enough, there's hardly any traffic. Feeling warmer, I was in the mood for some "riding." With VI /WARD to provide a bit of a safety net I hammered it. Boy does this bike like to be revved high. Nandi (my K) has been broken in well, according to my dealer. With the 24K miles service just completed, and a fresh set of tires it was running better than ever. Red lining it through the gears and totally focused on the gorgeous turns, I went in hot pursuit. Thoughts going through my mind: "here I am, riding alone, on a perfect day, on this amazing road," "forget the mission, enjoy the moment." Keeping it in 3rd gear, with occasional downshifts into 2nd, leaning slightly forward, tucking behind the stock screen, hitting triple digits on the straight-aways and taking some of those turns at just a tad shy of doubling the speed limit. Nothing out there, not a person, not a car, just farm country and the BRP. I see Darren approaching from the opposite direction. Both bikes in supersonic mode, we pass each other with a loud whoosh and a quick wave. I keep going. I see Vic parked on the far side of the road, making a call, throws his thumb up, I pass him, make a U at a nearby overlook and about to pull behind him as he takes off, and we head for the 'Mother Ship." I discovered later that there was a method to Brian's consistent approach to the BRP. BRP is his ride, his backyard, he knows it well. You can't possibly tango with the BRP at high speeds (80+) for more than a couple of hours or so at a time. Think about it, an all day ride of nothing but twisties, with very little straight sections, and if you are lucky to find any, they usually are too short to provide any relief. "Mother Ship" was the main caravan, steady as a rock heading southbound, and Vic and I thought of us as little F16s. We could buzz around at mach speeds, and when ready find our way back to the "Ship." So, Darren is on his own now and Vic and I are "exploring" the BRP in a speed that is worthy of the mighty K. I started hanging off. It felt a little awkward at first. It seemed that the bike was wobbling, I wasn't used to the experience. The trick is to ease into it (like everything else in life). Keep your toes on the pegs (important), lean slightly forward and slide your buttocks from side to side. Vic and I would stop from time to time, to snap pictures and take in the scenery. I keep my pegs on the high position and would still grind my feet now and again. For me this was the ultimate riding experience. However, little did I know that it was going to be topped by the next day. We do have some twisties in NY State, but nothing like this. Vermont is fantastic, and always a great time, but nowhere close to being this sexy. When you commit to going real fast on this road, you need to focus every second of your ride. Every turn becomes either a challenge or a tango and always a potential for disaster, depending how you take it. Needless to say, It is very important to be comfortable, and annoyance free. Your helmet needs to fit you real well. Something as mundane as your sunglasses (if you wear them) must remain in place and not slide down on your nose constantly. It should be just you and the bike, nothing else. Then go for it and dance. Flow! It is almost noon, lunchtime; we have been at it since 7am. Turn after high-speed turn. I was getting hungry, dehydrated and tired. It was time for another quick stop or better yet, lunch break. But Vic and I are ahead of the "Ship," and still going for it. Vic is wearing a "camel back" water reservoir, which I am sure is keeping him in much better shape than I am. Here we go another left turner, followed by another right, lean, hang off, watch your apex, get on the side of the lane that gives you most visibility for incoming traffic, 3rd gear feels OK, here comes a tight one, now down shift to 2, another left, tach is at 7K, now at 8, back to 3rd, another right, here it is another left turn, followed by another right hander and… I miss it. I go straight, don't ask me why, and how. I just lost focus for that millisecond and Nandi and I went straight. Maybe it was fatigue, maybe I should have stopped earlier, but regardless. (Please no lectures on safety.) Nandi and I cross the incoming lane, (no cars) hop over a rain ditch, right into knee-high grass and are shooting straight for the woods only a couple of yards away. I thought this was it, Nandi was going to slide and I was about to be a lifeless scarecrow on some poor tree. The bike basically is now an All-Terrain-Vehicle. Making its path through the high brush, the Telelever is sucking up most of the pumps and is keeping it straight. Soon I realize these basic facts: we are still up, we are moving and I haven't gone down. I said to myself, enough with the off-road riding, I am getting out of this. Without losing a moment, downshifted to 2nd, turned the front wheel toward the road, and gave it a nice twist on the gas, rolled over some more bumps, hopped that ditch again and rode the bike back onto the road, across the incoming lane (couldn't care about any cars, I wasn't going to lose momentum and drop the bike) and back onto my lane and kept on going. Boy, did I get lucky! Nandi is named after a mythical creature for a reason. It saved my precious hide. Now you see why we dub this amazing machine the "Mighty K." I catch up with Vic, he knows I went "wide" but has no clue by how much. He pulls over to the side, asks me if I need to take a break. I say, yea, that would be a good idea. "Are my Motolights still on?" He said "yea, why." "I'll tell you later." After a mile or two we pull over to another lookout, and I tell him the story. His comment: "A little off-roading is good for the soul." (or something like that.) See, why I ride with him. Anyone else would have given me a 30-minute lecture. The bike has not even a scratch on it. The only thing that happened which I learned later back in NY was that there was a nice deep cross cut in my rear tire. I learned a huge lesson from this. No, I am not going any slower around the corners, I just have much more respect for them now. Vic and I are standing at a lookout, viewing another seemingly endless sea of mountain tops and wondering about one of life's most puzzling questions: What's for lunch? Indeed what to do about food. As we stand there, the "Mother Ship" passes by, we all wave. A couple of minutes later, we head south and a few minutes after that, we see Darren's K parked at the entrance to a parkway restaurant. We both pull in to find the whole gang already parked. It's lunch time! Every one, minus Pep was at the table. Brian, Rob, Louis, Darren, David, Vic and I. There was an unusual quietness overtaking the table. One glance and it was obvious that the BRP has taking its toll on us. We needed a long break, and I for one was too happy to sit down and have a warm meal and contemplate my lucky break just half an hour earlier. A few jokes here and there, the energy picks up again. We are planning to get to the DGR II Rally in time for the Friday evening barbecue. It is supposed to start at 4 and if all goes well, we should be there by 5. Back on the BRP as we take it easy for a while, the "magnificent 7" is riding together and no one is in a hurry. About an hour later, as the lunch digests the pace picks up. The last 100 miles or so on the southern end of the BRP is worth mentioning. David A has taken the lead, with Louis, Darren, Rob and I in a very close formation. Brian, decided to take it easy and Vic is keeping him company for a while. Try to imagine this: 5 Ks, keeping a brisk 70mph, at extremely a close formation, almost race track style, heading south with no mercy for the living or the dead. It was exhilarating! A magnificent ride to say the least. Once in a while we would get stock behind traffic, but all 5 would pass at the soonest opportunity. It was one for the memory books. High-fives, handshakes and congratulatory remarks as we finally got to the bottom of the BRP. We enjoyed this ride so much that we decided to line up the bikes at the entrance to the BRP and wait for Brian and Vic to catch up. After Vic shows up, he encourages Darren to do a couple of wheelies for the camera. Darren has all the performance enhancements on his K (pipe, chip, Ohlins and Pilot Sports) and is gutsy enough to go for it, although somewhat reluctantly at first. It felt like a wonderful accomplishment, riding the entire length of the Blue Ridge Parkway. "That was it" I though, "the end of twisties" as we head to Tapoco, NC. But this time with Darren at the lead, my bike second, and Vic behind me (later I found out) we went for it, one last time. Yes sir, there are twisties in them mountains. Does this ever end? We are all on a roll and no one is going to slow down. I am talking about the now famous Route 28. A winding, gorgeous, classic 2-lane country road with all the fixin' (a river, lots of blind turns, real nice scenery, fast stretches). All through our climb up the hill, I heard this Remus in my ear, almost biting at my ankle and that made me push myself even harder. I thought if I slowed down, I'd get rear-ended. What an incentive to go wild up there. Finally! Open area, lots of bikes, most of them Ks, hands up in the air, as all 7 of us get a warm welcome to the barbecue at the famous Crossroads of Time. We made it! It's around 5-5:30 and Denis and Mark have kept food for us. Vermont Dennis a.k.a. Earthman gives me a big welcome hug. It felt great. New faces finally merge with familiar names. Pirate, Ara, Island Tony, K-Man, Bob McMahan (our MC for the event), DH Hoover, Lurking Charlie, highlander, Frankd and many, many more (my apologies for not mentioning all of your names). After our quick grub, and more chitchat, Vic asks me if I want to visit the Tail of the Dragon. "What?" "More Twisties?" "Can't this wait until tomorrow?" The last thing I wanted was to focus around another sharp turn. A few minutes later, both of us are on the Dragon. I had no intention of even attempting to maintain a brisk pace. I was officially done/baked/cooked for the day. But nevertheless, here I am, on the Dragon and what a wonder it is. "Legend says a Dragon lives in the mountains of western North Carolina. He tests your skills on US129 with 318 curves in 11 miles. Everyone who comes to ride the Dragon will always remember it." "Crossing Deals Gap at the Tennessee/North Carolina state line, the Dragon is considered by many as one of the world's best motorcycling and sports car roads. Anyone looking for an exciting highway will enjoy this stretch of US129. The road is often desolate and can be a real adventure. We've had to deal with bears and wild boars in the road, trees down, and tractor-trailers taking-up both lanes in the curves. It is not a road for the squeamish. It's better than any roller coaster you've ever been on. The favorite sections are the Hump and the Esses just before Cattail Straight. Be ready to scrape your footpegs in some of these wild curves. The Dragon begins on the North Carolina side at Fugitive Bridge with a view of the Cheoah Dam where Harrison Ford "jumped" in the movie The Fugitive. It ends 14 miles across the mountain at the Tabcat Creek Bridge in Tennessee. US129 climbs through The Slide, a steep series of "S" curves where one would not want to meet a tractor-trailer. The road then levels and straightens until a series of curves approaching the Crossroads of Time, one of the main hangouts for cyclists. Next comes Deals Gap and the Tennessee State Line. Many just remember curve after curve after curve and surviving the run of their lives. " <www.tailofthedragon.com> I keep it in 2nd gear and play tourist. Just taking it easy and going through the motions. A little hanging off here, a little scraping there. It made me laugh, couldn't believe an engineer would ever design a road like this. It's like a scene form WB Cartoons, all it was missing was one of those painted tunnels in Roadrunner. Didn't take it too seriously at first, dismissed it as an abnormality, best left to the squids and race boys. (Amazing the difference a good night sleep makes, more on that a little alter) Started heading toward Tapoco Lodge, just a couple of miles away, and I see a bunch of bikes, mostly Ks, pulled to the side of the road and people waiting around. No matter where you are in the world, this sight means only one thing: rider down. It turned out that it was Sam Field from Chicago. He was OK, but the K wasn't. I think it was totaled. We had a little chat the next day and apparently there are no twisties where he is from. That would be a serious setback for anyone. Imagine you never get to practice going around corners and here you are in one of the twistiest parts of the country. I get to the Lodge and there was already a row of Ks parked up front. It was a pretty scene. All K12s, old and new, lined up in a very linear fashion in front of the 2-story, ivy-covered building. I had reserved a room on the second floor in the back, facing the Cheoah River. Comfortable accommodations, I specially liked the bathrooms. It turned out the owners decided to keep the 1940's stainless steel fixtures, and overall feel of the bathrooms. History is a good thing! That's one reason we love Italy so much. I Take a quick shower and spend a little time down stairs talking shop. Basically the evenings consist of shoptalk, beer, camaraderie, some smoke (legal and otherwise), making new friends, cracking a few jokes and telling tall tales of adventures past. Every few feet riders would gather in groups of 4, 5 or 6, scattered all across the front of the building. The weather was just beautiful, clear skies, and in the 60's. Hope, Vic's friend arrives from Boston in a SUV, that she had rented from Nashville airport. She is a very pleasant, pretty, smart blonde lady. And it didn't take long for her to be the center of attention. Next morning, after breakfast, I am in my shorts and a T walking on the grounds looking at all the K's. Another beautiful day and every K color under the sun. The schedule calls for "group shot." Easier said than done. After a little struggle with the group, and not a single K or a rider responding, Bob McMahon asked me to organize the shot. I have a knack for getting large groups of people to do things they might like but not willing to do by themselves. I teach whirling to groups as large as 300, who have never done it before. What's whirling you ask? It's a form of controlled, meditative spinning or twirling. See my site for more info <www.rumi.net>. A few minutes and a half dozen cracks of the whip later, we have a line of about 40 Ks, grouped by color. A memorable Saturday, let me give you the menu, before serving you the meals, piece by delicious piece. Morning warm-up ride at the Tail of the Dragon, a very spirited group ride to the Cherohala Skyway where one of us was chased by a Sheriff helicopter, lunch by a river, a all-out assault on the Tail of the Dragon, shoptalk at the Crossroads of Time and back at the Lodge in time for the steak dinner, followed by an all-stops-pulled, laugh-out-loud camaraderie session. You don't need to go to the gym, just ride the Dragon back and forth a couple of times and hang off on every corner. It puts Stairmaster to shame. Don't bother testing out the Dragon at the end of a real long day. Do it when you are fresh and boy is this fun. It's like Six-Flags Adventure for riders, one tight turn after another. It is very easy to crash there. There are numerous things that can go wrong. Think about it: You may low side on a turn taken too fast, a car from the opposite direction may go wide and take you out, you may go wide and take you and someone else out with you, bikers could hit you as they try to pass and worse yet as was the case with Long Island Ralph on Sunday, a 'race boy' could go wide, low side, then slide uncontrollably toward you and jettison you into oblivion. Ralph made it with minor injuries as well, but his bike was a goner. Hitting those corners one after another, and barely getting a chance to stay on the seat is an experience I'll never forget. The highlight of the trip was the Dragon. That little cartoon of a road, got totally under my skin. Did you know that the fastest time clocked on the Dragon has been on a K12RS? I'll leave you to ponder that one for a while. What bike on earth could be this flexible? Loaded with safety features, and adjustable ergos and smooth power plant, it can transform from a SuperSport to an all out Touring. If you have an affinity for speed, put over 12K/year on your bike and have only one in the garage, K12RS is it. By the way, a high-end radar detector should be a mandatory accessory as well. This is motorcycle country! Where else in the US, you can have BRP, Deal's Gap (Tail of the Dragon), Cherohala Skyway and Route 28 all in a stone's throw of each other? "The Cherohala Skyway was completed in the fall of 1996 after being under construction for some thirty-four years. It is North Carolina's most expensive highway carrying a price tag of $100,000,000. Winding up and over 6,000 foot mountains for 15 miles in North Carolina and descending another 21 miles into the deeply forested backcountry of Tennessee. The road crosses through the Cherokee and Nantahala National Forests thus the name "Chero...hala". The Skyway is becoming well known in cycling circles for it's long, high speed sweepers. This cyclist's dream road connects Robbinsville, North Carolina, with Tellico Plains, Tennessee. It can be desolate at night and extremely dangerous in the winter months. There are no facilities other than restrooms for the entire 36 miles. There is little evidence of civilization from views that rival or surpass any from the Blue Ridge Parkway." <www.tailofthedragon.com> About 10 of us headed for the Skyway. The road is well kept, the sweepers are gorgeous, and the scenery will bring you back for seconds. We had lunch on the other side of the Skyway. We all sat outside, by a river and took in the sun. It felt good being there. The mood on the way back was a little more playful (read as: faster). It doesn't take much to hit triple digits on the Skyway. Let me rephrase, the Skyway begs for supersonic adventures. On the downside, I see a lone black K parked in a rest stop. I pull in as well. It is Frank from Long Island. Soon we notice a chopper way up in the sky, coming toward us and tracing the silhouette of the Skyway. Who is he following? We hear a roar of a Remus and then Vic shows up with Hope on the pillion. We look at vic and point our fingers to the sky, he gives us a thumbs up and continues with his romp. But something clicks and very soon he makes a U and joins us. As Vic pulls in the chopper circles directly overhead and it stays there. They are after Vic. You know this could have been any one of us, as we were all speeding. Vic was pretty certain that they couldn't read his plate from that far up and were tracking him by the color of his bike and the fact that he was 2 up. He asks me to take Hope for a ride and take her away from there. He then asks Louis to take his bike for a ride in the opposite direction. Not a bad plan to confuse the Sheriff in that helicopter. We eventually head toward the Lodge, as there were no cops in sight. But a little ways further, 2 of our guys were pulled over by LEO's heading toward our previous location on the Skyway. They both received tickets for 'reckless endangerment.' I learned later at dinner that they both had hired a lawyer to challenge these tickets. The Law in the South is very strict. I am glad that I managed to make it back without a ticket. I was itching for another go at the Gap. Late afternoon, Vic and I, attempt an all out assault on the Dragon. I was right behind Vic through out. Kept the bike in 2nd and placing my toes on the pegs and not giving myself a chance to rest on the seat. It was amazing. Passing cars, trucks and other bikes. Totally focused! Damn these crazy turns, they keep coming. Roller coasters have nothing over this road. I could feel Vic's bike with chip and Remus pull with a little less effort than mine. Almost like he had to work less hard at it. The official end of the Gap for riders is at a short bridge overlooking Cheoah Dam. The natural beauty of this area in endless. We pull over next to the tent that sell Tail of the Dragon T-shirts, and find Darren there as well. Perfect riding day. Clear blue skies with temperatures in the 70's. The good thing about the Gap is that, you get to do it twice, almost every time. Time to head back. A repeat performance, except that every go around makes you a better rider, the Gap more familiar, the turns sweeter and a greater overall sense of satisfaction. This round trip ride at the end of this wonderful Saturday on the Deal's Gap was the highlight of my 5-day trip. So much bike talk. Not sure if I should share any of it. You guys must have heard it all by now. In that area there are riders everywhere. Every corner you stop, every gas station. Should I tell you about the 2 young guys on Guzzis I ran into at the gas station at Robbinsville? One of them was on my favorite, 1970's 850 Lemans Mark I. How about the 2 older guys I chatted with at the CRT, one on a Harley dresser. He only had 2000 mile on his HD, but 70+K on his Gold Wing at home. He said, you don't ride Harleys, you trailer them from place to place. They are showcase bikes. Back at the Lodge, a quick shower and time for dinner. I sat with Hope, Vic, Highlander, and "Skirt" (a rather known, Iron Butt lady, with a kick ass GS) and his b/f on a KRS. One look around, Skirt said, this is not a usual Beemer rally. And she is correct, the guys and gals who ride the Mighty K, are generally more spirited and passionate than your usual Beemer crowd. I think it matches the personality of the machine. As Rider magazine called our ride, "Maximum Beemer," I can deduce that makes us "Maximum Beemer Riders." After dinner, we all hung outside. Circling from groups to groups, talking shop, having a real fun time and a few of us were smoking Darren's fine Cubans. Pep is one of the funniest guys I know. I had not laughed so hard in the longest time, certainly not since the Ground Zero mayhem. So many stories: Of rides in Asia, of selling used VW Microbuses to Royalty in 3rd world countries, other brands of bikes, race days, accessories. I thought of doing a little Motolight/PIAA test, but one of the riders had PIAA 910s mounted under the pods. Those babies are the size of a baseball and made for off road use only. People mount them on trucks. When he turned them on, he simply put to shame our measly PIAA 1100 series or the Motolights. I specially enjoyed my conversation with DA Hoover. I think it was his smooth Southern drawl that got to me. I was telling Island Tony about our spirited ride on the BRP. He asked: "like how fast you guys were doing 60-70?" I said more like 80-100? "100," his jaw dropped. "Do you know what they could have done to you had they caught you doubling the limit like that." I said with a smirk: "I was only going 55 over officer…" We both laughed. Sunday morning brunch followed a good night sleep. Most people had gone home by breakfast time. I had breakfast with Ralph and Bill. We all said our good-byes. Everyone seemed satisfied. This was a great rally. Thanks Bob. Vic and I with Hope in the SUV headed for Nashville airport for Hope to drop the car and ride with us back to New England. One more pass at the Gap. Ah, what a way to start a morning. The rest of the day, 3 people on 2 bikes, heading North through major Interstates. V1 is a life savor. We kept a very fast pace all day, passing trucks and every other vehicle in sight. Stopping every 130 miles or so to 'fuel' the bikes. I had 700 miles to cover and Vic had an additional 200 to go. We managed to squeeze another ride on the BRP. Hope commented later, that our little BRP detour was the highlight of her trip. By nightfall we were in Northern most part of Virginia on the Pennsylvania border, more than half way home. Stayed at a Traveler's Lodge, with both bikes parked right in front of the entrance. The next day I only had 4 hours to cover. We crossed Pennsylvania and most of Jersey before Vic, Hope and I parted ways. Close to NY, it started to drizzle. Oh, back at his crazy city, in a state of Martial Law. What a contrast! 5 magic days of sunshine and open spaces and now I am back at this gloomy, overcast, overcrowded city, cutting through road checks. I managed to ride to my neighborhood, although I had to be escorted by a Trooper for the last mile. I found another parking garage to leave the K. They asked me to park at the backend of the garage, with other bikes. The floor seemed a little wet. I pulled in and as I tried to put the bike on the center stand, it nearly slipped and was about to fall. I managed to catch it and rebalance it. Can you imagine the irony? 2000 miles of spirited, borderline dangerous riding and here I am about to drop the bike in a garage in Manhattan. But all was fine. With Nandi securely on center stand, my journey officially ended. Shahram Shiva k12rs.com, shiva@k12rs.com