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So, as I posted on the SE forum, took a ride today. My friend Kevin, very skilled and smooth rider of a Spring ST, invited me along, and then he and everyone else bailed 'cause it was too cold (low 30's this morning.) A young man, Peter, whom I first met when I sold him a Virago, then again when he sold me a mc lift, was the only rider I called who showed up, and as if to shame all the other guys, his girlfriend came along, too. So it's me on the Bandit 1200, and Peter on his Honda Shadow Ace 750, with Karen back-seat with Peter.
We rode up from Roswell, GA through Delonoga, GA, and on to Two Wheels Only motorcycle resort in Suches, GA. Peter and Karen had already made plans to hike at Amacalola Falls State Park, and Peter suggested a fire road that cut down from US 60 to US 52. First 2 or 3 miles of the FR were great- smooth pavement, narrow but tight turns, lots of fun. Then... the pavement ended. I stopped. Peter, behind me, stopped. Karen stopped, too, but then she was riding pillion with Peter, so she had little choice.
The dirt and gravel road didn't look too bad, and Peter said "That sort of thing doesn't usually scare me." Maybe we should have been a bit more scare-able, because we were in for about another fifteen miles of deteriorating road surface. We are not talking pea-gravel, here- I mean rocks ranging from tennis ball to motorcycle gas tank sizes. Okay, so maybe not quite that big, but big, all the same. Rocks with the ability- and demeanor- to kick your front tire off onto a whole new direction- leaving you to just hope you and the rest of the bike can follow, and that whole new direction is NOT down the steep, 30-feet slope on the side of the road. We made it without any serious detours, but I felt my front suspension bottom out a few times, and Peter hit a rock that sent a shock wave thru his bike- fortunately he absorbed the entire hit with his left knee, thereby saving the softer, more resilliant parts of his body from having to deal with it. The riding position, and being solo, meant I could stand up and pretend to be a dirtbike rider, but Peter and Karen, being two-up on a cruiser with forward controls, had no such option.
Our top speed was maybe 30 mph, and we spent most of our time on that "road" at 20 or less. I remember thinking, geez, I could go almost as fast on my human-powered mountain bike. We encountered rednecks in pickup trucks and 4WD SUV's, college boys in 4WD Jeeps (four of 'em, going off-roading- on the same fire road we were on,) mountain bikes and one dirt bike rider- but we were the only street bikes there. As if we didn't already know we were out of our element.
When we got on Hwy 52, man, oh man, that 2-lane asphalt seemed soooo wide and smooth- and 70 mph felt like we were FLYING!
We rode up from Roswell, GA through Delonoga, GA, and on to Two Wheels Only motorcycle resort in Suches, GA. Peter and Karen had already made plans to hike at Amacalola Falls State Park, and Peter suggested a fire road that cut down from US 60 to US 52. First 2 or 3 miles of the FR were great- smooth pavement, narrow but tight turns, lots of fun. Then... the pavement ended. I stopped. Peter, behind me, stopped. Karen stopped, too, but then she was riding pillion with Peter, so she had little choice.
The dirt and gravel road didn't look too bad, and Peter said "That sort of thing doesn't usually scare me." Maybe we should have been a bit more scare-able, because we were in for about another fifteen miles of deteriorating road surface. We are not talking pea-gravel, here- I mean rocks ranging from tennis ball to motorcycle gas tank sizes. Okay, so maybe not quite that big, but big, all the same. Rocks with the ability- and demeanor- to kick your front tire off onto a whole new direction- leaving you to just hope you and the rest of the bike can follow, and that whole new direction is NOT down the steep, 30-feet slope on the side of the road. We made it without any serious detours, but I felt my front suspension bottom out a few times, and Peter hit a rock that sent a shock wave thru his bike- fortunately he absorbed the entire hit with his left knee, thereby saving the softer, more resilliant parts of his body from having to deal with it. The riding position, and being solo, meant I could stand up and pretend to be a dirtbike rider, but Peter and Karen, being two-up on a cruiser with forward controls, had no such option.
Our top speed was maybe 30 mph, and we spent most of our time on that "road" at 20 or less. I remember thinking, geez, I could go almost as fast on my human-powered mountain bike. We encountered rednecks in pickup trucks and 4WD SUV's, college boys in 4WD Jeeps (four of 'em, going off-roading- on the same fire road we were on,) mountain bikes and one dirt bike rider- but we were the only street bikes there. As if we didn't already know we were out of our element.
When we got on Hwy 52, man, oh man, that 2-lane asphalt seemed soooo wide and smooth- and 70 mph felt like we were FLYING!
Been there , done that . Gravel's ok as long as you don't freak out .
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