| Author | Message | ||
     Eeeeek |
The trip was great right from the beginning. My friend Alan (aka ChopTop, because of his love for Hot Rods) and I got picked up at my house in Sacramento by a Limo. Nothing too impressive, just my friend owns a limo service and another friend drove us to the airport. We got dropped of, checked our luggage and grabbed a couple of drinks at the bar. A few housr later, we were in Chicago waiting for our next plane. At about midnight, we touched down in Knoxville, TN. It seemed as though the whole world and shut down and gone to bed. Alan and I went down to pick up our luggage and then it happened. About a dozen bikes came screaming up: a couple of X1's, a Mille, a ZX9, a 2 R1100s, a 996, a Confederate, a couple of S1 White Lightnings and an S3, along with a Chevy Truck. We threw our gear in the back of the truck and then were told "pick a bike." I grabbed the Mille and Alan grabbed the ZX9 (inside joke, plus he's 6'7"). When we got to Cap's houe (Cap was our host) other were waiting as was beer. Party, sleep. The next day, Thursday, the Duck wouldn't run, so about five of us ran off to the local Duc dealer to get parts (about 40 miles away. I took the Mille. The delare sucked. Sucked bad. the dork behind the counter was on the phone with one of his buddies talking about fishing and wouldn't help us until he was good and ready. •••••••. We left the dealer empty handed and took the long way home. At this point I was on the ZX9. The ZX9 had the engine breathed on a bit and ran very strong. Fun bike, very secure and comfortable. the Mille was more like a torture rack (Cap had set it up with an extreme rack). As the Duc was a wash at this point, Cap went about rigging his S2 together. He had sold his trubo for a bigger one that hadn't arrived yet, so no turbo. Not usually a problem, but the carb was set for all the extra air of a turbo. We needed the extra bike, so we got it running and went off to Knoxville's bike night. Mainly Harleys, but we did find this: Yes, I am a pig. We left the bike night to go bask in the local arts scene, followed but a pleasant tour of the cultural...oh, who am I trying to kid, we went to a titty bar. I'm not a big fan of titty bars because it seems like a waste of money to me; BUT, in Tennessee, table dances were a buck. That's right, a dollar, 4 quarters, ten dimes, whateever. True story, one of the ladies came up to us all and said "Y'all aren't from around here, are ya?" No, how could you tell? "All Y'all have all your teeth!" At about midnight, five of us split of and headed back for Cap's. I was on the S2, which would get flooded if you gave it too much throttle. After about 2 miles, the headlight went out. Crap. I couldn't catch up to the lead bike because of the over rich carb, so I signalled to Alan, on the Mille, to pull in tight in front of me and hide me from any cops. We went about 15 miles before we got to our offramp. Why did I ride with no headlight? Because I had no clue where the hell I was and only the lead rider had any idea. Chatterboxes would have been real nice. At the offramp, the lead rider kept on going. After a few miles, I worked my way up to him and signaled to pull over and we worked ont he headlight. Turns out it had come unplugged. We got it going and then went the final few miles back to Cap's (twistie road). Did I mention is was raining the whole time? We pull in and Alan asks if I need a beer. "That's the dumbest question you've ever asked." To be continued... Vik | ||
| Blake |
Dangit! Makes me wish I had been assimilated! Thanks Vik! Blake (waiting anxiously to hear the "rest of the story"!) PS: Y'all check out the pics at http://www.sacborg.com/ubb/NonCGI/Forum1/HTML/001041.html and http://www.sacborg.com/ubb/NonCGI/Forum1/HTML/001041-1.html Be patient waiting for the page to load. All PG rated stuff (in case you are worried about the office net nazi). | ||
| Blake |
Vik: This will be a keeper. I'll move it to the Tale Section after your next chapter is posted. | ||
| Eeeeek |
The next morning, everyone was draggeing thier asses. We finally got people motivated and rode up to the Dragon, me on the 2000 Mille again. It had just stopped raining, so the road was wet. This was for the best as it kept us safe and sane our first time up. There are some very deceiving sports that can really bite you. We got to the top, ate lunch and then took 28 to Fontana Dam. The streets were drying and the rode was lots of fun, mostly 2nd and 3rd gear stuff. The Dam was amazing, about 500 feet tall and it was the one they used in "The Fugitive." At the Dam, Chop and I switched bikes, so now I was on the Confederate. The thing intimidated the hell out of me and I scraped the pegs on the very first corner because of the lack of clearance. After a few turns, I kicked up the front pegs and put my feet on the passengers. With the bikes fat torque curve, I could keep it in 2nd most of the time. By about half way through, I had caught the trailing riders and by the time we were back at the top at Deal's Gap, I had passed 5 bikes. It was so funny. On the straights, I would put my shifting foot back forward and go through the gears. The Confederate was such a beast I never needed the rear brake and the front brakes were massive. I learned to brake hard before the corner, letting the engine brake do much of the work, too. As I'd enter the corner, I'd hang off, lean over and give it gas. the bike was dragging the rear pegs, but nothing else and I would launch out of the corners like a rocketship! It was a lot of work and a lot of fun! We took 129 down to 143, Cherohala Skyway, and I was still on the Confederate. The road went from tight and twistie to huge sweepers. I was being outclassed by most of the bikes now. As we turned onto 143, it started to Rain. The Rain came down harder and harder and we all finally hunddled under an information sign at a vista point about 1/3 of the way up the Skyway. We finally decided we needed to beat the Sun and went for it. We were rinding slow as the rain was dumping and the whole time I kept thinging this road would be great when dry. We enede up wrapped in a cloud and had to slow more. We dropped back down below the town and then I hit reserve. We had gone about 100 miles since a fill up at Deal's Gap and we were miles away from anything. I finally coasted into the first gas station we saw, miles later. Gassed up, we all started sprinting for home. Alan was now on an S1W and Tim on the Mille. Tim pulled a monter three gear wheelie and got lit up by a local cop. The cop's questions "y'all power wheelie or did ya use tha clutch" and "how's that thang handle" followed by " y'all going to tha bike night {insert name of town here, I don't remember}?" He got off. More to come later... Vik | ||
| Chibueller |
Vik, That Confederate is a PIG! Don ran out of gas on the way to dinner before we picked you up at the airport. I rode to a gas station and filled up a gallon and a 1/2 and rode back to top off Don. All we did was ride another 5 blocks to the restrant, home to Cap's, and then out to the airport. About 5 minutes away from the airport Mike runs out of gas again. PIG |
