Brogden’s Big Solo Run

 

Having bought a 1982 Yamaha Virago 750 in late 2005, after 15 years away from bikes, I soon discovered I like riding as much as I did twenty years ago.  Nearly two years after getting back on a motorcycle, I came to the conclusion that the Virago is a very good bike – but I had a strong desire to return to a Yamaha triple.  The bike I picked up when I left the Army in 1985 was a 1979 Yamaha XS750 triple.  I rode it for six years, 50,000 miles – it was reliable, fun, steady; the best bike I’ve owned.  This was a tough decision, as I had put much time and a bit of money into making the Virago 750 ride and run as good as possible.

In March, 2007, I discovered a 1980 XS850 Special with factory installed touring trim for sale on eBay in the Washington, D.C. area.  The bike was advertised as being in “excellent condition”, looked good in the pictures, and the owner sounded knowledgeable about the bike and open about several issues.  For about the same money I paid for the Virago in 2005, I picked up this XS850, with less than 23,000 miles on it.

 

After coordinating busy schedules with the owner (I had a business trip to Taiwan and he had a mission trip to the Gulf Coast), I made plans to fly to Dulles airport on Monday, 30 July, where the owner would pick me up and take me to my new bike.

 

One thing about the 850 I did not like – it had floor boards instead of foot pegs.  The floor boards also move one’s feet forward and I like mine under my rear end, not stretched out in front.  While discussing the bike purchase and this issue at www.yamaha-triples.org/ a triple rider offered to trade his foot pegs and controls for the floor boards and he would ship them to me in time for me to take them and install them before I rode the 850 home.  I also picked up engine guards on eBay. 

 

I loaded up the foot pegs, controls, engine guards, and tools into an old suitcase that I bought about 30 years ago – part of a set my father advised me not to buy because it was cheap and would not last.  This trip would be the last one for this suitcase – but we still have two other pieces at home J

 

Now you have the setup.  Here’s the trip report.

 

Monday, 30 July: My wife, still thinking me crazy, drove me to the airport early Monday morning.  I arrived at Dulles around 3:15 and Matt picked me up around 4:30.  He lives in Winchester, VA – about an hour’s ride from the airport.  It took Matt and me about an hour and half to swap out the floor boards and install the engine guard.  And then we couldn’t get one of the saddlebags to unlock or open – spent another twenty minutes on that with no success.  I had plans to spend the night at a friend’s home in Alexandria, so I shoved off at 7:20, the bike had 22,712 miles on the odometer.

 

Being 40 miles farther out than planned and missing a turn on the Fairfax County Parkway put me at Dick’s home around 8:45 at 22,788 miles.  One of his sons, Jim, whom I’ve known since he was a pup, was also there and we went out for dinner at Outback Steakhouse.  The place was nearly deserted and service was terrible.  Bed time was 11:00 with a BIG day awaiting me.

 

Tuesday, 31 July: Up at 6 AM.  Dick scrambled eggs, had bacon, toast, & coffee – a most excellent start!  He helped me break the lock on the stubborn saddlebag and I was able to get started at 8:00.

 

I headed back out the way I came in, on the Fairfax County Parkway, picked up IH-66 west bound to Front Royal, VA.  I headed south on Skyline Drive, and quickly found myself on US 340 instead.  Found my way over to the Drive and found it very scenic, but slow – with a 35 MPH speed limit.  The weather was overcast, with limited visibility into the valleys that stretched out below every turn in the drive. 

 

While pulling into a scenic turnout, I got careless.  I looked too long at the scenery and failed to pay attention to the road.  When I looked back to my business, I was running up on the curb at a very shallow angle with no time for corrective action.  I hit the curb, and fell over to my left.  The engine guards paid for themselves, keeping the curb from bashing the engine case.  My left elbow got whacked and my left knee had a hole the size of a large marble knocked out right below the knee cap.  Lots of blood.  I had turned off the engine while falling over, but saw fuel leaking and jumped up to pick the bike up.  This puppy is considerably heavier than my Virago.  I had to turn around and put my back into it.  Don’t recall how I kept it from falling over the other way, but I got the side stand down and dug out my first aid kit. 

My good jeans were ruined.  Lots of blood soaked into the top of my sock.  Ugly hole in my knee.  Alcohol and iodine and first aid cream, lots of gauze and bandages – back on the road.  Lots of pain.  Nobody stopped to help.  No sign of park rangers or first aid from professionals.

 

The south end of Skyline Drive is less interesting and would greatly benefit from a speed limit of 50 MPH.

 

From Waynesboro, I hopped on IH-81 towards Boone, NC.  Dropped off the Interstate at Christianburg and rode US 221 from Floyd, VA to Boone, arriving at the Hidden Valley Motel, some 9 miles south of town, around 8 PM; at 23,277 miles.  I found this delightful place on www.motelguide.com – a very good resource (although not always up-to-date) for finding low cost, quality motels.  $55 (including tax) for a nice room, nice folks running the joint, cold AC, and free sodas in the room! 

 

Here’s my new bike, in front of my room, #107.

And here’s a picture of the gazebo and the rest of the very picturesque front yard of this place.  Turned out, I was heading south in the morning, so this place put me 9 miles closer to my Wednesday destination! 

I took some late daylight hours to remove the left lower fairing – it was in the way of my highway foot pegs and its right-side counterpart was missing – as well as cover the tear in the seat and a couple of small holes in the fairing with electrical tape.

 

Wednesday, 1 Aug:  Pulled out of the Hidden Valley Motel, well rested and with fresh bandages on my aching knee at 7:40 AM.  I had a Club Breakfast Sandwich at Hardees – bacon, ham, turkey, eggs, and cheese on a sourdough bun.  Wow!  Then off for a bit of the Blue Ridge Parkway and US 74/19 over to Maggie Valley to visit the Wheels Through Time museum.  I did not have time to get $12 worth of moseying through the museum, so I was content to spend a half hour looking at the displays in the gift store. 

I pushed on to Robbinsville, on US 19 and state 28, arrived at the Phillips Motel (located from same web site) around noon.  The proprietors were “out to lunch” so I headed off to “slay the Dragon”, as they say around this place.  North from Robbinsville on highway 129, I hit the stretch called the Dragon at 1 PM. 

 

While heading to Robbinsville, I was having doubts about being able to handle this heavy bike with soft suspension in the mountains.  But as I hit the Dragon, I seemed to have figured out this beast and was looking forward to a good ride.  There were no group rides announced for this day and traffic on the Dragon was light.  Any doubts about me being the slowest bike on the mountain were put to rest as I came up behind a couple Harleys.  After a few turns, looking for a place to pass, I punched the 850 and flew past these big, heavy, no-cornering-clearance cruisers.  Felt really good.  A few sport bikes were south-bound, but nobody passed me in the north-bound lane!

 

About half way up the Dragon, Deals Gap Motorcycle Resort awaits, providing Dragon Slayers respite from the beast.

 

A couple miles before the end of the Dragon section, I was setting up a pass around 2 more Harleys as we approached a really tight hairpin curve.  A semi-trailer rig was south-bound and did not set up his turn correctly.  The inside rear tires of his trailer dropped off the road (no shoulder) on the inside of the turn, causing his trailer to lurch toward to abyss and pulling his left drive wheels an inch or so off the pavement. The driver’s eyes were really big; he was about 20 feet in front of me.  We went on bye; I passed the HDs and went on my way.

 

A beautifully scenic view awaits those who make it to the north end of the Dragon.  Several of us who witnessed the truck talked about it, convincing one another that it really did happen.

 

I later learned from another rider staying at the Phillips Motel that the south-bound lane was closed for more than 5 hours as officials tried to extract the truck.  Whew!  Glad I was north-bound.

 

On to Tellico Lake and Vonore (in Tennessee), stopping for bite to eat at Hardees.  Met a guy who wanted to talk about bikes and the conversation turned to the meaning of life.  This guy claimed to be agnostic and we talked about the Christian world view that Christ alone is the only True savior of man.  I gave him a copy of the Gospel of John and encouraged him to read it, telling him he would believe it once he was dead, but would benefit from believing while he yet breathes.

Off to the Cherohala Skyway, advertised as more difficult than the Dragon, with more deaths each year as validation.  This road peaks at more than one mile above sea level – not bad.

It started raining while I was on this mountain, causing me to suit up in my rain gear for the only time on this trip.  It quit raining as soon as I was off the mountain and back in Robbinsville. 

 

I checked in and was out of my rain gear by around 6 PM at 23,587 miles.  Went out to grab some grub and buy a T-shirt.  Phillips Motel was another great find – highly recommended for trips to the Dragon. 

 

While coming into town from the Cherohala Skyway, I noticed my left rear blinker had quit working.  A dual-sport rider from Kentucky, also staying at the Phillips, thought it was a faulty ground, as I had ruled out the bulb.  He wiggled the blinker fixture a bit and the light worked!  A quick tightening and the blinker was fixed.  This gentleman also helped me figure out to remove the seat from my bike – it’s not the stock seat and ain’t quite the way the owner’s manuals describes it.  Always great to spend time with bikers from other areas and other bikes.

 

Thursday, 2 August: Since this was planned as the longest day of the trip, I was determined to get an early start and make few stops.  I re-wrapped my knee and hit the road, south on 129, at 7:15, stopping for a quick breakfast at McDonald’s in Topton.  From here, I picked up US 74 and headed west to Chattanooga, TN.  Today’s ride would take me through four states: North Carolina, Tennessee, Alabama, and Mississippi – without much time for sight-seeing.

 

US 74 merges with US 64 east of Chattanooga, in Cleveland.  I wanted to stay off the interstate, so I headed through Chattanooga on an urban highway.  All was well until I got close to the Tennessee River on the west side of town – I lost the highway marker.  A couple stops asking for directions, I headed out in search of US 72, which would take me to Huntsville, AL.  Before I forget – Chattanooga looks to have much to see, demanding at least a day of exploration.

 

Well, Tennessee clearly marked every highway in area EXCEPT for US 72 south – and I found myself west-bound on IH-24.  The closest turn-around was 18 miles down the road.  Arrggg!  Got turned around, found US 72 and went south, anxious about the time and miles ahead. 

 

As I was enjoying the beautiful road and scenery, it dawned on me that the lush carpet of kudzu was merely camouflaging the deadly rocks that await the careless rider who wanders off the road.  Focus!  The lines are your friend.  As much as I marvel at kudzu – it will cover you up if you sit still for long – I failed to stop and take a picture of this Japanese weed as it continues in its march to completely blanket the southeast United States.

 

From Huntsville, I rode IH-565 for the few miles to Decatur, where I stopped for fuel and asked a local for directions – as I did not want to waste any more time missing turns.  West on US 72 to AL 33, then south for a bit to pick up AL 24 to Russellville.  It was hot; I stopped for a quick lunch and decided to tryout the Miracool cooling vest I had purchased some months back.  I had a 2.5 gallon zip lock freezer bag, into which the vest and some water both went; soaking the required 20 – 30 minutes while I ate.  The vest (worn under my mesh jacket) certainly helped, but I think it would perform much better without a full fairing and windshield keeping the breeze from hitting it – and helping the evaporative cooling process. 

 

I picked up MS 25 in Starkville, MS and headed south to Jackson.  I was tired, my butt was tired, and I didn’t know if I would make it.  The highway pegs on my engine guards were a BIG help.  A couple of stops along the way for a strawberry milkshake and cold water helped out and I found my way to a Super 8 motel on IH-20 at 7:45 PM, 24,179 miles on the odometer.  The day had been 12 hours and 592 miles long; no pictures.

 

While checking in, I handed the desk clerk a copy of the Gospel of John.  As he took it, he said, “This isn’t a Jehovah’s Witness thing, is it?”  I told him, “No, but that’s a very good question to ask!” and went off to my air conditioned room thankful for everything.

 

Friday, 3 August: The plan is to make it home today.  My wife leaves this morning on an 8 day trip to participate in the Southern Baptist Deaf Conference (she is a sign language interpreter).  We will miss each other and tomorrow is our 29th wedding anniversary!  We will make number 30 (should the Lord tarry) a big deal.

 

Free breakfast at the Super 8 (raisin bran, a donut, and coffee), fresh bandage on my knee, and I was gone around 7:20.  I picked up the Natchez Trace Parkway south of Jackson – not long after the left vent control in my fairing jumped out.  I was cruising down MS 28, enjoying the road and the scenery, when I felt something hit my left knee (well above the injury).  It took me a couple minutes to identify what it was – I now had an empty hole in the fairing where the louver had been.  No turning back – the thing probable flew apart on impact anyway.

 

The Natchez Trace Parkway is not to be missed.  Much of this 2-lane road has been recently re-paved and all of it is in great condition.  Commercial traffic is prohibited; there are many sweeping turns, rolling hills, and lots of trees without the kudzu covering – and a reasonable speed limit of 50 MPH. 

 

At Natchez, I bade farewell to the Trace and headed west on US 84 into Louisiana.  I picked up south-bound LA 28 through Alexandria, past Fort Polk, on to Leesville.  From here I rode LA 8 into the Great State of Texas, picking up TX 63 to Jasper.  Almost home now, I took US 190 to Livingston, US 59 south to Cleveland, TX 105 west to Conroe, then FM 1488 and local roads back to the homestead in northwest Harris County.  Daughter and dogs waited with much joy (at least the dogs).  I pulled into my garage at 5:30 PM with 24,618 on the odometer.  Two hours shy of 4 days on the road, 1906 miles (an average of 476 miles per day), 7 states; no trouble with the bike.  And I was able to walk!  This old motorcycle ran between 39 and 43 MPG on the highways and through the mountains.  Close inspection once home reveals intake manifolds that are cracked and mufflers likewise cracked – and leaking.  Both of these probably have a part to play in the bike’s difficulty approaching the redline of 9,000 RPM.  New intake manifolds and good condition used mufflers are on order – we will soon see.

 

This trip would have been a lot more enjoyable with one or two riding buddies and more time to explore some sights.  But picking up a 27 year-old motorcycle, sight unseen, and being able to ride it for 8 to 12 hours per day with nothing of note going wrong – that’s something to ponder with much gratitude to the One Who provides all good things and holds this crazy universe together (check out James 1:17 and Colossians 1:15 – 16).               Stuart L. Brogden

 

Here are a few pictures from Killboy that arrived after I put the report together – MS Word is too much trouble to reformat the document to put these where they belong.  Enjoy!

Here I am, setting up a pass of two Harleys.

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

Here I am, stylin’ on my new wheels, making sure I take the right line through the curve ahead.

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

Sweet machine.  I was 24 years old when it was brand new.

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

Below are a few free shots Killboy sent me of the scenery on the Dragon.

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

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