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I'm a sucker for trains: ​

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The Buchanan Railcar Inn
Buchanan, Virginia USA​

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From the Buchanan Railcar Inn website:
"A vintage 1934 Hiawatha Dining Car (later converted to an exclusive railcar) houses this one of a kind inn.
The car is richly appointed with fine furnishings and inlaid woods shined to a soft patina and harkens to the era when a journey was more than just a means to get from place to place,
but an event to be savored by those fortunate enough to travel in first class luxury."​

http://www.buchananrailcarinn.com/<?xml:namespace prefix = o ns = "urn:schemas-microsoft-comfficeffice" /><o></o>​

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If you look closely over the handlebars, in the background is a glimpse of Natural Bridge, Virginia.
I didn't need crowds today, so I opted to avoid the $18 entry fee and sought
a more private look at this historic natural landmark.​

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Here's a closer look, courtesy of some optical zoom.
George Washington and Thomas Jefferson have both been here. Perhaps they've stood in this very spot. ​

Artist David Johnson has:​

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Natural Bridge, Virginia, oil on canvas, David Johnson, 1860 ​

This was painted the same year Abraham Lincoln was elected 16th President of the United States,
a year before the outbreak of the Civil War.​

http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Natural_Bridge_(Virgi nia)​

Looking down on Virginia's historic James River,
with the cloud-shrouded Blue Ridge and James River Face Wilderness hovering high above.​

http://www.wilderness.net/index.cfm...7.5880923752&longitude=-79.4446549697&zoom=12​

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The James is swollen from recent storms.​

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http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/James_River ​

I crossed the flooding James River, as a child, in a car. It made a lifelong impression on my mind. Since, I have always regarding the James as a mighty river. Nice pics.

Fast Ferris,Your mom is one cool chick! I am one of the few motorcyclists in my family. They did everything they could to keep me off of motorcycles but I found a way.

I shot the second two pix of the James from the Highway 501 (Lee-Jackson Highway) bridge, where it crosses the river a little northwest of the Blue Ridge Parkway and Big Island, Virginia. It was an impressive sight (and sound!) from that vantage point. My ride was on the heels of several weeks of heavy weather up here, and the river was very high. The fellow fishing down below looked like he was having a ball as he guided his kayak through the roiling water.

One of these things I've always enjoyed about adventuring by motorcycle is the ability to pull over almost anywhere when the mood strikes. I could've never gotten away with these photos, i.e. stopping in the middle of a busy bridge for several minutes, had I been traveling by cage.

Thanks for riding along.

Bobbed, thanks. My maternal grandfather Wade LeRoy (Mom's dad, born 1899) was also an avid rider, as was my uncle (Mom's brother) Hubert. The riding burn seems to run in the family, and there was never any onus on me when I was young to stay away from motorcycles.

I don't think Dad ever rode, but he never discouraged me from riding, even in high school when I'd spend nearly every summer day out riding the trails near our Belfair, Washington home with a full-leg cast as a result of a badly broken left leg suffered during PE. (I punched a hole in the inside heel of the cast with a screwdriver so I could upshift by hooking the hole over the shifter peg and pulling with my leg, and I'd downshift by bonking down on the peg with the heel of the cast.) I give my folks a lot of credit for letting me run wild on the bike (DT250 Yamaha enduro) back then. That was long before cell phones or SPOTs and the like, and I'd literally be gone from sunup to sundown blazing the gazillion acres of state forest we lived next to.

One of the first multistate tours I ever took was with Mom, she on her Yamaha 650 Maxim "dresser," me on my Yammie 850 Triple. We spent a couple glorious weeks running up and down the West Coast, Crater Lake, the Redwoods, Mount Shasta, etc. It was a marvelous, magical motorcycle ride, one we still talk about to this day.

Mom was also a private pilot at one point in her life, and has never met an adventure she didn't like. Much of who I am today I owe to her.

Thanks for riding along.

As noted earlier in this chapter, I'm a sucker for trains. There's one coming. Have any of y'all ever done this?​

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The trick was to catch up to the train (it rumbled under me back on the Lee-Jackson Highway bridge), get ahead of the train, find a place to get off the highway and off-road the Road King up to the tracks, fish out some change, and get the camera fired up and ready. Doesn't sound like a big deal, and it really isn't, but it was harder than it sounds. This is near Big Island, Virginia: ​

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I had a '78 Yamaha 750 triple. Loved that bike.

Great pic and story about your Mom!

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This little stunt cost me twenty-six cents, and a coating of coal dust.​

Worth every penny.​

I bought my 850 new in 1980, and offed it when I bought my first Harley in '84. Great bike, distinctive howl on the boil, a real torque monster. One of the best motorcycles I've ever owned, and I wish I still had it.