Father's Day Ride - West Virginia

Father’s day, a time when most young adults my age are at the point where they call their Dad say happy father’s day, maybe take them out for lunch or dinner and then carry on. Not around this house. See, for as long as I can remember now I have spent father’s day with my Dad doing something that involved riding a motorcycle. It’s what we do and I couldn’t imagine doing anything else at this point!

So when this years’ Father’s day weekend rolls around I went out and purchased Dad a nice set of Alpinestar riding gloves (almost didn’t want to keep em’ for myself) and made plans to head home from Raleigh on Friday evening so that I could spend the weekend with the old man. Not sure what exactly we were going to get into, but I knew at some point we would be going for a ride, somewhere.

Father’s Day morning, Dad and I check the radar and unfortunately it’s looking a bit bleak for the mountains. Rain is forecasted for most of the Appalachian Mountains throughout the day no matter where we went. However, being the stubborn McCrary men we are, we said, “To hell with it.” and made our way north up 52 to West Virginia to get some riding in up that way. We had hoped that we could get far enough north and let the storm pass under us and then head back down behind it.

Following Dad up Hwy 52 towards Pilot Mountain.

We started out on Hwy 52 heading north up through Mount Airy then turned off and made our way up Old 52 so we could take the fun way up the mountain. At the base of the mountain the skies were starting to look a bit rough, so Dad pulled off the road so he could put his rain liner in. (Chicken) For the past couple of months I have been thinking more and more about the possibilities of getting a C-14 or a FJR and every time I talk to Dad about this he always encourages me to take the FJR out for a ride. Knowing that we would be making our way to a rather fun section of road, I decided to take him up on the offer and asked if I could ride it up the mountain. True to his word, we made the swap and he took my FZ up the mountain while I piloted the FJR.

The FJR is nice; there is no denying that, it has lots of power and gobs or torque on demand and in any gear. I am not a huge fan of the Corbin seat that the previous owner had installed as it created a few pressure points for me and I felt as though I was sitting to low and in the bike. But those are minor adjustments that can be made on any bike… I could go on and on about what I like and dislike about the FJR, but then that wouldn’t be too entertaining.

Halfway up the mountain the roads became wet; apparently we had just missed the rain. With that in mind I cut the pace back a bit and just eased up the mountain in 4^th gear. I say I eased up the mountain but in all honesty I was still running a good 60-70. I had no clue I was running that quick till I made a quick glance down after I exited one of the corners… oops. Guess that’s why they call it a sport tourer?

At the top of the mountain Dad and I pulled into the Lake View Restaurant for one of their homemade hamburgers. (Still have yet to find the lake) We talked a bit about the FJR and how it compares to the Connie and Dad is still encouraging me to take the FJR out for a good long day ride so that I can have a better appreciation for it. Eventually I will do that, but only when I am in a position to buy…I have a feeling I know what will happen when I ride it all day. Prime example: My hesitation towards moving up to a 250cc bike while currently riding a 125cc. After a day at Brown Mountain on a 250cc, the 125cc was for sale the following week. After lunch we continued up 52 past the shot tower and up onto 77 and made our way up into West Virginia.

Rolling through one of the tunnels heading into WV

Thought it was neat...

Skies are starting to look at bit rough

On my way home from The Summer Mountain Ride back in 2009, I took Route 19 south out of Beckley, West Virginia in order to miss the toll booths. I had mentioned this road to Dad, so we decided to make our way over to that and head north and then go from there. Now at this point I can’t exactly remember what we did wrong but somehow we ended up heading the wrong direction on one of the connecting roads and after we found ourselves almost in Virginia again, we figured something was wrong. To make things more entertaining that rain front was working its way in and we were starting to get wet… Fortunately the direction we needed to go was still under blue skies, but we didn’t know how long that would last. After turning around and riding back the way we came with the rain nipping at our heels, we managed to make it onto route 19 and started north towards Beckley.

Route 19 was just like I remembered a nice twisty, country back road with rolling hills and some amazing scenery. We stopped about half way up to Beckley just off Hwy 77 to top of the tanks and grab an oatmeal cookie then continued on up 19. The miles ticked on pretty good and apparently they got good to us because before we knew it we were rolling into Beckley, West Virginia. We pulled off in a bank parking lot to check over the map and to find a fun but quick route home. So we decided to make our way back down 19 to pick up 3 heading east and then catch 20 south until we ran into 77 and take that home.

I had been on Hwy 3 during the WVSMR and enjoyed it this time just as much as I did the first time. (Though I wasn’t getting out ran by some local in a Pontiac Vibe GT) 20 wasn’t a bad road either and it made for a nice country road as well. To be honest I really haven’t found a road in WV that I haven’t enjoyed riding… just saying.

Headed out of WV and back home

We made it home sometime around 5 pm Sunday afternoon with somewhere around 320 miles added to the odometers. It was a nice ride, however, if we would have started a bit sooner I am sure we could have spent some more time up that way and explored. But either way it was nice ride and we stayed dry for the most part. Another great Father’s day spent on motorcycles. I look forward to many more.

RTE Hickory, NC - June 2011

During the first week in June I was invited up to NYC to attend a medical trade show with the company I work for. It was the first time I had ever been to the big city, so as you can imagine it was quite the eye opener. While waiting on my return flight at LGA I received a phone call from, Mike “Hammer Down” Brown from Harrisburg, North Carolina. He was calling to inform me of an RTE that was scheduled for the coming Saturday in Hickory North Carolina. I was planning on going home that weekend so I could pick up Zeus, so I told Mike that I would check with the parentals and see what they had in mind for the weekend and I would get back to him. Needless to say Mom and Dad are always down for some sort of ride on the weekends so we planned to leave early Saturday morning and ease our way over to Hickory.

Saturday morning we left the house and made our way to 70 and headed west towards Hickory. After winding our way through the back woods of the I-40 corridor we made our way into Hickory and pulled into the restaurant parking lot. When we arrived we pulled up next to a silver gold wing that was being piloted by a troll that had apparently left the bridge…

Mom and Dad hadn’t had the pleasure of meeting the troll like I had, so after their introduction we made our way into the restaurant to meet the rest of the crew. Not long after we were seated, Mike Newton, aka “Grizz” and Momma Bear pulled up and joined us at the table. Mike Brown, followed in shortly after as did a few other members of the MTF. I think there were 12 or 13 people in total that made it to the RTE.

Someone left the bridge...

Old men and funny looking motorcycles...

Lunch was as good as the stories that everyone was telling. Dad got to talking with another member who used to do race off road motorcycles as well, Mom and Cindy (Momma Bear) were chatting it up a good bit and I was jumping in and out of conversations the entire time. (A.D.D)

After lunch we made our way to 181 once again, which I never object to. J After a quick fuel stop for Mike Brown, we made our way down 181 to the mountain. For this little adventure I was pulling point with Mom and Dad behind me, Hammer down, Grizz and the rest of the crew followed. As we started up the mountain I made it a point to take my time, work on lines and flowing through the corners. Every time I looked in the mirror I noticed that Dad was right on my tail so I started to pick up the pace a bit till I started putting a little distance between us as I was afraid I was holding him up. This worked fine until about half way up the mountain when the temperature dropped dramatically and the rain began falling, hard. At that point I got out of the throttle and cut back the pace a good bit and focused again on my lines and avoiding the oil slicks. In all the rain storms I had ridden in, I had never rode in rain that was so freaking cold before! It took my breath away when it would roll off my helmet and down the back of my neck.

Once at the top I pulled over at that country store that had gone out of business so that we could all get up under the canopy until the storm passed. Once we all gathered up the rain started to move through, however everyone was off the bikes and socializing again. After joking about for close to an hour we set off again down 181 and made our way to the parkway and hwy 226 to head south down to Kings Mountain, home of the infamous “bear cave.”

Grizz and Momma Bear

Hammer Down Brown

Another shot of Grizz and Cindy

Mom and Dad rolling on the FJR

Most of the RTE crowd had gone their separate ways once we got to 226. However, Mike Brown, Mom, Dad, Grizz and I made our way down to Kings Mountain for dinner. (Go figure) At this time I can’t remember the name of the small restaurant but it was a nice Mom and Pop shop with some great ice cream!

After dinner, Grizz and Cindy headed back to the din, Mike Brown, Mom, Dad and I headed on over to 85 and headed on home. It was a short day as far as miles were concerned but regardless it was a good ride and it was great to see everyone again.