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Old 08-21-2013, 03:43 PM   #1
Faunus2011 OP
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17 Day East Coast Tour 2013

Preface:

This is a post de facto ride report. During the ride, we took pictures, rode, and drank some beer at nights. The actual ride took place from April 2013 into May. Upon returning, I began typing and sorting the 800+ pictures. The ride report was revised, extended, and revised again. It ended as more of a 20+ page short story than a traditional ride report...

So, if you want a short, to the fact, live action ride report, this may not be exactly your style. But if you want as grammatically correct literary rendering of an awesome trip between two best friends, then it will be worth your time reading further.

In order to make this 13,000+ ride report readable, I'm going to post a day or two of the ride per day on here. Your joining the discussion will just make it better. Grab a beer, find a comfy chair, and enjoy.

With no further ado, East Coast Tour 2013
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Old 08-21-2013, 03:44 PM   #2
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Day .5 & 2

April 26th started like any average Friday might around my apartment; with me loading my Maryland flag themed panniers on the sides and two loaded duffel bags onto the back seat of my 07 Tiger. But this wasn't any average Friday. Soon I would be riding hard and fast across Northern Louisiana with a storm brewing in the skies of Dixie behind me, on my way to meet Esteener for a trip that had been eight years in the planning. 4050 miles. 80 hours ride time. 82 gallons of premium gas. We were about to embark on a journey, an adventure if you will, that can be described as nothing other than legendary...

After completing the trip from Lufkin, TX, to Columbus AFB, MS, the excitement in the air as we grilled tilapia, and had a cold brew, was palpable. After our back porch meal, we did last minute prep work on our bikes. We knew this ride would test man and machine and wanted to have everything perfect. An additional challenge we knew we would be facing was heavy, extensive rain. We had our bargain sporting goods store rain gear standing by for the challenge. With all we could do that night accomplished, we simply went to bed.

We awoke Saturday the 27th to mostly sunny skies. We knew the weather wouldn't last, so we made the most of our time. Our first stop for anything more significant than to get gas and relieve came in downtown Atlanta, on/besides the Georgia Tech campus. We ate at Firehouse subs, gorged ourselves, and had what would become the first meal in a string of gluttonous, decadent, absolutely delicious culinary masterpieces across the East coast.




On the way out of Atlanta, we missed an exit. We attempted to wander around till we found our way by driving Northeast and looking for our lost interstate. Before long, we were driving amongst mansions nestled in heavily wooded rolling hills. It was quite possibly the best representation we have ever seen of modern upper class living mixed with mountainous, country, down home simple living. Atlanta provided for a pleasant surprise, not the “hotlanta” either of us had pictured in our minds. Both of us remarked that if we ended up living there we would consider our lives wholly successful. If it was not for the imminent rain we would have stopped to take pictures. Fellow inmates, if any of you live in this area of Northeast Atlanta we got lost in, do you have tent space?

As we crossed into North Carolina, altitude increased, temperature decreased, and the rain closed in. We had to stop and rain gear up. By the time we were approaching Franklin, NC, it was pouring. Cold, wet, and in need of a urinal, we stopped at a rest stop. Noting that the evening was not going to get any drier or brighter, we asked the night janitor if we could pitch a tent there for the night. And, in the first stroke of our short lived troubles for the evening, we were squarely rejected. We then went on a wild goose chase of following signs and GPS directions all over Franklin, going to a hotel there, looking for a campground here, finding the wrong campground at our next stop, and so forth. Saving you the gory details of our desperate searching, our troubles climaxed with me dropping my bike turning around on some fairly steep asphalt, in the aftermath of a torrential rainstorm, evening fog and showers settling in. I was not moving, and the damage was limited to an inch scratch on the crash bar and a two inch scratch on my pannier, with no rider casualties. However for someone who was already cold, wet, and roofless for the night, there was no cheer to be had. Or was there?




We finally found our campground for the night. The establishment rented 8x16 cabin/lean to things, which at that point we were happy to rent. No fridge, no heat, no microwave, just a roof and a bunk... Until the owner walked in. As we were to learn over the trip, everyone loves a motorcyclist. Especially a cold wet motorcyclist from out of state. He upgraded us to the deluxe cabin for free, which did have a fridge, and a microwave, and a heater. We cranked up the heater and started getting out of our wet clothes. I, however, was still pouting about the drop. I was mad at myself for being incompetent and stubbornly refusing to find any satisfaction in the evening. That is when Esteener decided something must be done. Mounting his idyllic Germanic machine, he went in search of a gas station beer freezer. A few minutes later, he returned with something that turned my whole night on its head. There, in Franklin NC, in a modest gas station beer aisle in the middle of April, he had found Shiner Winter Cheer. Although early spring was upon us, Winter Cheer is a yearlong favorite for both of us. Instantly, there was cheer to be had. We drank cheer, microwaved peppered Spam, and drifted merrily off to sleep.


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Old 08-22-2013, 05:36 AM   #3
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Peppered Spam ? Something new to try.
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Old 08-22-2013, 06:19 AM   #4
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Tiger 1050

How do you like your Tiger? I am eyeing up a used 2008 with about 15k miles on it as my next sport touring ride.
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Old 08-22-2013, 02:47 PM   #5
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So far the Tiger has been a great sport tourer. I picked it up last December with 16,020 miles on it, and I've put 10k trouble free miles on since then. Its smooth, comfortable, and the fastest non-sportbike I've ever ridden. Fuel efficiency is fantastic, although I still wouldn't mind a bigger tank. You do lean slightly forwards, just enough to give you a hair of sportiness and keep you from really leaning back and relaxing, although a pair of risers would easily give you a cruisers seating position. The panniers aren't the most durable I have ever seen, or the most straightforwards to use, but for anything short of pure adventure riding they will do.

In summary, if you want something reliable with a very unique and personable motor that is light on its feet and does everything well, I can give the Tiger a thumbs up.
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Old 08-22-2013, 04:22 PM   #6
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Day 3

We awakened Sunday April 28th to a downpour and thunderstorms. It didn't take us long to deem the day unridable, especially since this was the day we were supposed to start the Blue Ridge Parkway. Taking emergency action, we looked up Asheville in the GPS. We thought if we could just find the city, find a decent hotel where we could dry our gear, and maybe find a microbrewery in town, we could pass the day away with minimal misery. Slightly over an hour later of riding in some of the most rugged weather conditions we had experienced up until this point, we arrived in Asheville, “Land of the Sky.” Little did we know...


After checking into a downtown hotel, it didn't take us long to realize there were more microbreweries than people in Asheville (almost). Besides for the beer, and even through the rain, we could tell that Asheville was a dashingly beautiful city. Both of us remarked that if we ended up living there we would consider our lives wholly successful (more so than in the ATL). We also were starting to see the pattern in people giving somewhat preferential treatment to wet out-of-town motorcyclists. The clerks at the hotel allowed us to park our bikes in front of the night window, in the "no parking" zone, so he could keep an eye on them for us. We had no complaints.




The first stop on our brewery tour was the Wicked Weed, a brewery restaurant named after King Henry the somethingth, who dismissed hops as a wicked and pernicious weed. Both the food and drink menus were solid, and the atmosphere and view were great. Steener had a particularly interesting main course, a lobster salad topped burger. My sandwich was good, but I was envious of my fellow rider's grub. King Henry’s number one ally happened to be “Sir Ryan the Pounder,” a fantastic beer on the menu. Our childish minds found Sir Ryan’s title to be absolutely amusing, and Steener could not get the full words out of his mouth to our cute waitress before erupting in childish laughter. She smiled politely, lost the previous interest she had showed in us, and disappeared to retrieve “the pounder.” From there we sampled divers bars and breweries, but ended up in a brewery known for their oyster beer. But in our only event of bad luck for the day, they were out! We vowed on that very spot that we will one day return to try the oyster beer, and we fully intend to keep it.


We had our second meal of the day at Jack o' the Woods, a Celtic restaurant and leading server of a local microbrewery that was further than we felt like walking. Besides for having the altogether best atmosphere of the day, there was a live Celtic band playing. If we were satisfied already, wait till we saw the menu! Goat burgers, lamb Sheppard's pie, and even rabbit somewhere on the menu. This ended up being not only the best meal of the day, but possibly one of the best of the trip. If you are in Asheville and do not stop here, you are making a mistake. Our last meal of the day was had at the Asheville Brewing Company. I had a good cheesesteak, but the environment was altogether the least cinematic of the day, and while the food was good it wasn't epic. While I'm glad we stopped there, if I could only make on stop in Asheville, it would certainly be Jack o' the Woods.







That Sunday witnessed other firsts for us, all thanks to the rich culture and considerate drivers of Asheville. We passed by a landmark known as the Bunkum Stone, named after Congressman Felix Walker, which was supposed to impart the gift of gab to any who kissed the stone. Naturally, we both gave it a big ol' smooch. Later in the afternoon, we were walking back to our hotel, wandering and taking in the sights of the city. Walking on the sidewalk, fairly close to the curb, a car came driving along, and hit a puddle just a few feet in front of us without even slowing down. The resulting wall of water soaked us so completely we looked like we'd just been in a pool. Only slightly annoyed, we marveled at having experienced a scene usually reserved for Hollywood actors in chick flicks.








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Old 08-23-2013, 02:29 PM   #7
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Day 4

We woke the next morning, Monday, April 29th, to fog lifting off the mountains and blue skies peering through. Soon after we were on our way to the entrance of the Blue Ridge Parkway. Before we even reached it, we were overwhelmed by the roads and the views.. There was no straight-and-level to be found, and every view was picturesque. Upon entering the parkway, our first major stop was the Devil's Courthouse. After a short but mildly steep hike, we were rewarded with views for miles around and into multiple states, as well as a top down view of our bikes. It was a real on top of the world sensation.
















The next highlight of the day (and one of the highlights of the trip) was an access road to the BRP aptly named NC 151 and aptly nicknamed Devil's Drop. The road was essentially a giant switchback, hugging the side of the mountain and meandering back and forth across several small waterfalls. It was a low speed, technical bit of riding but one of the most involving, beautiful, rewarding riding experiences I have ever had. This was one of the definitive "must see"s of the BRP.






Towards evening, we began looking for a place to camp early because of the formidable looking skies and a forecast of 20% chance of rain for four hours throughout the night. Luckily, we came across a campground fairly early with lots of time to set up camp. Unluckily, it was closed because of the recent sequester... There was another motorcyclist in the parking lot, a gentleman with a covered bike who had just decided he was going to camp in the parking lot for the night. He had called the park, and the next open campground on the BRP was 200 miles down the road. This left me and Steener with a predicament. We knew we weren't going to make it another 200 miles, but were uneasy about camping in the parking lot. What if we were told to pack up camp at midnight in the rain? So we followed Steener's Smartphone to the nearest place with camp in its name, which happened to be Buffalo Camp RV park in Blowing Rock, NC.


Arriving at Buffalo Camp, we quickly gathered this was not a tent campground. Due to the nature of our situation though, we decided we would try a little pleading. In the end, Steener’s NRA stickers on his panniers landed us a place on a grassy slope next to the bathhouse for $15 a night. The use of the bathhouse alone was worth $15; it was like something out of a nice hotel. So we happily set up tent, donning only a rain fly for the 20% chance of rain expected that evening. Silly us.






Tent erected, we headed into town for a few brews and some fresh fruit. It didn't take us long to agree that Blowing Rock was another magnificently beautiful city. A full sized city with a small town feel nestled cozily and safely amongst spectacular mountains, it was a place I would be honored to call home and anybody passing by would be wise to visit. Having acquired what we went into blowing rock to purchase, we headed back to camp and had fruit, MRE's, and an East coast specialty, Yuengling Black & Tan. Having eaten our fill, we retired to a restful night's sleep.




It started raining. And it continued raining. But then, it started raining harder. Rain started dripping from the roof and walls, and then rain started flowing through along the ground. Around sunrise, I retreated to the bath house for some warmer air and dry clothes. The 20% chance of rain had turned into an all night downpour. As if the complete lack of sleep wasn't bad enough, we now had another issue: one more night on the road and sleeping bags so wet we had to ring them out to get them back into their bags. This set the scene for one of the most interesting nights of our lives.
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Old 08-23-2013, 08:03 PM   #8
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Sounds like my kind of adventure! Carry on...
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Old 08-24-2013, 06:10 AM   #9
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awesome trip. when you got to the bottom of 151 you were about 3 miles from my house!
It is a pretty nice area, and you did check out a small percentage of our beer!
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Old 08-26-2013, 03:40 PM   #10
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Day 5

Tuesday April 30th was devoted to finishing the BRP. There was a brewery in Afton, VA we were determined to make it to, and it also sounded like a decent area to spend the night. We got off to a slow start though. After waiting for the rain to stop and managing to get all of our gear back on our bikes, we faced dense fog that made riding on the parkway dreary and dangerous. Not being able to see potential obstructions in a timely manner, we were forced to ride in first or second gear, burning time while attempting to make a little distance. About ten thirty, the fog burned off and we resumed our normal pace of travel. We stopped at some historic sites such as a homestead with a 42 degree spring that was once used as a refrigerator, and Mabry's Mill which still grinds grain to this day.


























We got to Afton with plenty of light left, and headed to a Budget Inn which had told us they had vacancy earlier on the phone. Since that time, they had filled up, and we were forced to look elsewhere for accommodations. The lady behind the counter mentioned a place named the Afton Inn on the other side of town, and warned us several times that it was VERY cheap. This sounded perfect, and we headed off. We had no idea of the horrors that awaited us.




The Afton Inn's lobby would have been enough to scare a reasonable man away. With several knocked down walls, and the scent of burnt tobacco and urine on the air, I'd seen abandoned buildings that were more welcoming than this hotel. We assumed this was evidence of renovations, and took that as a sign that perhaps the Inn's owner was making some attempt at improving the establishment. We got a room, and after trying repeatedly to kill a wasp nesting on the room's towels, (it would not die!) unloaded our gear and headed to dinner. The Blue Mountain Brewery ended up being even better than we had hoped. The building was splendid both inside and out. The food was a nice sidepiece to the delightful beer and college girls filling the place. With six (or was it seven?) styles of brewery glasses, and coozies and shot glasses and more, there was the perfect reminder of the place for you no matter what type of person you are. We even grabbed a six pack of their fresh beer to go. Later that same evening, we needed it.






Arriving back at the Afton Inn after dinner, we made the determination we were in for an unforgettable night. At least 60% of the rooms were uninhabitable, due to broken windows, missing doors, or being used to store what would best be described as rubbish. Three rooms had the walls knocked out between them and wild, frantic cats running around trying to escape. Vagabonds used some rooms as domiciles. There was the sound of a baby crying incessantly. There were, and I kid you not, bloody fingerprints on our lampshade. And soon mice started running around our room and crawling on our gear. I could continue on the state of disrepair, and crumbling roofs and walkways and stained carpets and broken beds, but I would like to keep this a readable length. We had had enough, and planned on leaving. But, like something out of a Silent Hill movie, a fog settled in so thick we didn't feel safe riding away from the place. After killing the six pack, we decided we had to attempt to get some sleep, since we were running on empty from the night before. Laying only partly under the sheets, we took a chance and closed our eyes...
















The fact that you're reading this stands witness to the fact that we did indeed make it through the night.


At this point I must say a few words in defense of the Afton Inn. The place was once an alluring landmark, boasting banquet halls, upscale dining facilities, and an in ground swimming pool. It was a three story escape built into the top of the hill directly between and overlooking both the BRP and Skyline Drive. If you google it, you will see the sad story of a man in over his head trying to keep alive the dream of a has been haven for weary tourists in between sampling America's grandeur. Apparently he is a nice man, and we can't help but feel sorry for him. But I am afraid the only hope the Afton Inn will ever have is to be torn down and rebuilt, which is a dream that may never materialize.




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Old 08-27-2013, 08:18 PM   #11
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Day 6

Wednesday the 1st was a short, pleasant ride which landed us back in the arms of Cecil County. We loaded up, made haste away from the Afton Inn, and were soon enjoying the slow but scenic Skyline Drive. The low speed limit and lack of miles to cover for the day meant that we got to play around a little more than on previous days. We finally began trading bikes, and stopped at every overlook that we fancied.


The visitor center at the Big Meadow provided a gas stop and food break for us. We filled up first, then rode our bikes into the steeply sloped parking area, dropped our kickstands and headed inside for food. We roamed the store, snatching souvenirs and junk food until our hearts were content. About the time we were ready to check out, a gentleman came in and questioned loudly, “Does anyone in here ride a BMW motorcycle?" Figuring yet another rider wanted to discuss our trip with us, we walked over and introduced ourselves. The gentleman informed us he was not a rider nor was he interested in the bike, but that the BMW was spewing gasoline. As we hurried out to investigate, we saw that the heavily laden, freshly topped off motorcycle parked on the steeply sloped ground was indeed spewing gasoline. Turning the bike up the hill solved the problem, and we got to enjoy the smell of 93 octane petrol as we ate our lunch.




After lunch we stopped at the Dark Hollow Falls Trail and hiked down to see the waterfall. At this point in our trip we were pretty impressed by the waterfall, and found it worth the hike down the trail. The hike back up the trail ended up being a whole other experience though. Both Steener and myself have fallen away from our peak physical shape over the past few years, but both try to move at our former pace when on the trails and in the woods. By the time we reached the parking area again, we were both ready to collapse onto our bikes. As we fumbled for water, we saw something beastly approaching. Not only were we about to be graced by a Unimog, but a Unimog with a 650 GS strapped on the back. Steener managed to whip out his camera, turn it on, and get off a quick shot before the 'mog disappeared into the bends. We both instantly had the same idea. Hastening to throw on jackets, gloves, helmets, and camelbaks, we mounted our steeds and tore off after the Unimog. Despite slightly surpassing Skyline's meager speed limit, we never saw the 'mog again.










Our next stop was Hogback Overlook, where, in addition to viewing 11 bends on the Shenandoah river, we met up with our good buddy Davie. With a spray-can chrome paintjob and straight pipes on his 1984 Honda Shadow, his bike made an interesting addition to our odd assortment. We finished riding the Skyline Drive together, and then aimed towards the northeastern shores of the Chesapeake Bay. Things went smoothly until we reached the MD border. Thanks to construction on the interstate, we were in stop and go traffic for two hours. Initially, this predicament meshed with our intentions and we stepped off our steel horses and put our feet on that sweet MD ground, for me the first time in years. We stood on the side of 495 and inhaled the smell of our dear home state, but mostly just exhaust fumes, and snapped a few shots with the welcome sign. My cooling fan never went off the whole time, our amazing average MPG dwindled, and we about sweated out of our skins. After passing through Baltimore, we stopped for dinner.








Wawa. Of those of you who have them, I'd wager many of you don't realize what you have. Those of you who don't live near one, I'd wager almost none of you know what you're missing. If you're hungry and on the road, it is the place to stop for anything you desire. Steener and I had been waiting for one since Columbus. And finally, in Harford County, we came to our long awaited Wawa. We were in such ecstasy and so anxious ordering our sandwiches the employees probably thought we were on the run. After receiving them, we went around the side of the building, sat with our backs up against the wall, and ate our sandwiches in the cool air of an Eastern Maryland eve.

Getting back on the road, our buddy Davie peeled off and we went our separate ways into Cecil County. The mature hardwood forests and rolling green hills broken by streams and rivers was every bit as astonishing as we remembered from our childhoods. The smell of fish was strong in the air from the Susquehanna River, and the bars and restaurants were full and brimming with life in those small Southern towns. We arrived home just about sunset. Steener's mother and sister were there to greet us, followed shortly by his father. Even in our tired state, looking out across the green backyard and rows of pine trees and fallow fields, we were able to take in the beauty and comfort of the place. We were truly home. Going inside, we snacked on leftover spaghetti just to assure we went to bed with our bellies full. Steener's mother insisted on getting us beer. Steener wouldn't pick a brew, so I did. Soon we had a case of each Yuengling and Yuengling Black & Tan to sip on. We had a few beers, told a few road stories, and slipped off to bed. We were home.


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Old 08-28-2013, 07:47 PM   #12
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Day 7: No bikes, but pictures of a dog!

Thursday, May 2nd was a fairly easy, relaxing day for a couple of weary travelers. The morning started with sleeping late and hot coffee on the porch. After waking up enough that we realized we should make the most of our time on vacation, we rushed off to start some laundry. The best part was hanging the clean, wet laundry and sleeping bags on the clotheslines. We picked old .22 pellets out of the clothes line post from when we were in middle school. Steener rode his bike around the back yard. I tossed a ball for the dog. Doing laundry has never been so much fun.








We decided to devote this Thursday to Steener's woods. For the amount of time spent in these woods as youths, it really deserved a week of adventuring and missions, but on our schedule, all we could devote to them was one mid-afternoon. We started off with beer, firecrackers, and by retracing some of our old four-wheeler trails. While some had become overgrown, the next generation of adventurers had made trails of their own. Following the winding trails around the massive, ancient tulip poplars and American beech trees, I couldn't help but feel the giddy rush I did when I was sixteen, first learning to ride my four-wheeler through these woods, or following the icy, solidly frozen creek, or attempting to make a raft that promptly sunk. Throwing firecrackers around and blowing holes in the mud just contributed to the feeling. Deeper in the woods, we found the old junk pile, containing a completely rusted out (and sadly now overgrown, which it was not in high school) Corvair, an inverted F-100, several other cars, fridges, old toys, shoes, bottles, and more. It seems illogical to miss a pile of old junk, especially one that is so similar to any other pile of junk in any other woods in this good old country. But there, standing amongst the rubbish at that moment, there was nowhere else I would rather have been.














Eventually, we had to hurry out of the woods to make it to Steener's grandparents' house, which was on the outskirts of Philly. We talked about cars on the way there and back, I annoyed everyone by correcting everyone on things that really did not require correction, and I climbed a tree. The house itself is a charming little suburb house, surrounded by old streets and sidewalks and trees with brink chimneys and power lines floating above every structure. Steener's grandmother is a fabulous cook, with twice baked potatoes to die for, while his grandfather told politically incorrect jokes and generally provided amusement. At the risk of getting too sentimental in what is supposed to be a ride report, it's events like this that assure me that I will always have family on the East coast.










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Old 08-29-2013, 02:33 PM   #13
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Day 8

Friday the third was one of the highlights of the time we spent staying in MD. I had had an insatiable craving for a real life, honest to goodness Philly cheese steak for awhile, and I had made it a priority to ingest one on this trip. We started the morning off by saddling up and riding, as is appropriate on a motorcycle trip. Before long we were at John's Roast Pork, a lesser known but more apt variant of the infamous Pat’s and Geno’s, ordering ourselves a wad of greasy meat and cheese with the Philadelphia skyline to our backs. Since Hostess went out of business, Tastykakes have become more readily available in Texas, but we decided to grab a few in the Tastykake home state while we were at it. After taking delivery of my gleaming (from the grease) new cheesesteak, I stuffed my face as quickly as I could without sustaining 2nd degree burns to my mouth. After we were finished eating, a gray haired gentleman came over and introduced himself as a long time rider of Husky dual sports, and mentioned that he was thinking about getting a more street oriented adventure bike. I was just impressed that a rider of his age had adapted to calling them dual sports instead of enduros like most other riders of my parents generation do, and we had a pleasant chat.






One of the goals of our trip was to take lots of pictures, and with 800 pictures we accomplished that goal. This Friday gave rise to many of these pictures across three states. After eating, we rode to Penn's landing for the sole purpose of taking pictures, and tried to catch both the Philly skyline and Camden across the river. After photographing till our hearts were content, we rode around the Market St area and tried out our tires on the antiquated cobblestone streets of the area. Every trip to Philly just reinforces my opinion that it is definitely the coolest large city on the East coast. From there we rode into Camden (well, almost) and took pictures from the docks looking back towards the City of Brotherly Love, and then took the most direct route out of Camden and towards Atlantic City, New Jersey. Our time in Camden, arguably, was the most dangerous 20 minutes of our trip.






As we approached Atlantic City, the cool ocean air left us in need of a pit stop and in want of some hot coffee. Luckily for us, there was a Wawa two blocks from the beach. Even better, they still had cookies and cream doughnuts left in their bakery section! Logically, Steener and I donned our trucker style beer hats, each grabbed a cookies and cream doughnut, a Wawa mug full of steaming hot coffee, and headed for the beach. As if our odd matching assortment of apparel and edibles wasn't enough to attract a few looks, we wandered the beach in search of the biggest seashell to be found. Luckily there weren't too many people on the beach on this cold blustery day, or else the whole lot would have universally thought us mad. We walked as far as the eye could see each direction, deeply breathing the salt air, admiring the lavish beach houses, wondering at the casinos, and generally just enjoying having the destination to ourselves.








The trip from Atlantic City back was one of the less pleasant parts of the day. I think we hit five tolls in all and spent more money between them than we did on gas that day. Speaking of gas, we dealt with New Jersey gas attendants who hesitantly told us we could pump our own gas because we were on motorcycles, which I was glad to do, although I could have done without the awkwardness of the situation. As soon as the chilly sea breeze subsided we were faced with incredible glare from the setting sun all the way back to Cecil County. But it was another experience, and there was Yuengling waiting to make everything better.
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Old 08-29-2013, 06:43 PM   #14
Rusty Rocket
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quite the trip. Especially the Inn at Afton.
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Old 08-30-2013, 09:14 AM   #15
Faunus2011 OP
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Thanks. That was definitely the most alarming part of the trip, but the most scenic part is still coming up!
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