North Carolina is a collection of wonderful regions and places, from the mountains to the sea. Each is different of course, with its own geography to be savored on two wheels. It is remarkably easy to avoid being trapped on highways and allow oneself to be consumed by the beauty of the byways. Along the way, the people are terrific as well, with different traditions and foods to be enjoyed at many off the main road venues.
In these small towns and villages, life can slow down, and peeks into the past can be enjoyed. These are some battles not worth wading into, such was the ever-present tension between different styles of barbeque, but that can easily be avoided by just sharing a knowing smile and a swig of Cheerwine or sweet tea.
All of which makes the tragedy that unfolded in the wake of Hurricane Helene even more tragic. The loss of life and livelihoods is the biggest thing of course, and it has been gratifying to see people from across the Old North State pull together to support those in desperate need in the Appalachian Mountain Region. And, of course, I can see that in North Carolina. Similar efforts are underway in hard hit areas in Georgia, South Carolina and Tennessee as well. When a crisis happens, it can bring out the best in all of us.
The scenes of loss in places like Asheville, Little Switzerland, Chimney Rock, Bat Cave, and so many other places are heartbreaking to watch. Together, of course, we can and will recover from this. It won’t be easy, it won’t be cheap, and it won’t be quick, but it will happen. Carolina Strong has an important message to convey.
Touring in the region is one of the great joys in motorcycling, and my preference over the years has remained fixed in time. I happened to have fallen in love with the BMW motorcycles that were new when I was in school in the 1970s and ’80s and appear to have decided to not progress much beyond that point. Nothing stirs my soul more than the sound of a R90S or an R100RS, both of which are closing in on half a century old. They simply do everything well and have a soundtrack that Porsche seems to have borrowed as well for the airhead 911.
In 1978, I had a chance to run the Skyline Drive and Blue Ridge Parkway on my new (to me) 1973 R60/5. It was a magical time, which introduced a kid from New Jersey to an array of new experiences. This was the year I was going to recreate that experience with a pair of Garden State friends who I’ve known since that era. Somewhat ironically, each of us has remained faithful to equipment from that era. My freshly rebuilt 1979 R100RS was going to be joined by my college room’s RS from 1977. Plans were solidified, reservations were made for a rally point off the BRP in Virginia, bags were packed, and we waited for the clock to tick down to H-Hour.
Unfortunately, at the last minute, one of the amigos contracted COVID and we had to put the entire idea on ice for a while. We were going to reload for a fall adventure, but Mother Nature in the form of Helene scuttled that plan as well. The plan that was so long in the making remains on our to do list for another year.
The places we plan to visit remain very much top of mind for us now as the recovery from Helene unfolds. Beautiful rides around Lake Lure will come again, as will hops to Mount Mitchell and Grandfather Mountain. We will again see the beauty of downtown Asheville, explore the Biltmore Estate, and experience the Highland Games. We will be back to see Chimney Rock, to hike around Boone, and enjoy an end-to-end cruise on the Blue Ridge Parkway to the Tennessee border. Mount Pisgah awaits us, as does a lunch at Mabry Mill.
It will take time. It will take patience. It will take persistence. It will take commitment. It will take support from all of us, but it will happen.
And what will I ride on the adventure that is to be rekindled?
Well, I have to admit to having a strong preference for vintage equipment. My earliest recollection of this goes back to first grade, when I tried to convince a classmate that the 1959 Ford school busses looked better than the new ones issued for ’63. He was unimpressed. For the record, I still maintain that I was correct.
So, my preferences for BMW’s clearly run to the vintage kit. The airheads that were part of growing up around my dad are still emotional favorites. A friend pointed out when I bought my “new” Beemer a decade ago that the oilheads are likely the best BMWs ever built. The argument was that they can do anything the new ones can, but that they were built before global sourcing of parts became a thing. They were built for the long haul, and everything just worked in perfect harmony. They are quick, they handle well, and they are bullet proof.
Compared to the new bikes of any brand, of course, they are lacking for technology. No GPS. No suspension mode adjustments. No onboard stereo. There is a fuel gauge, which works most of the time. But as a rider? They are simply awesome.
My father, an Air Force crew chief when I was a very young, introduced me to the joys of two-wheeled transit by the time I was in first grade. He referred to motorcycling as “two-dimensional flying,” which seems a perfectly apt description even now.
On recent afternoon perfect for riding, I took my 30-year-young R1100RS out for a sortie. On the rolling sweepers, she just asks for more throttle and sharper lean angles. In the straights she blasts along effortlessly. The airheads will always be wonderful classics — this oilhead is one for the ages. It has all The Right Stuff.
Which will get the nod for our next Blue Ridge rendezvous? That remains to be seen. And it may require a coin toss at game time. Both the airhead and the oilhead are ready with fresh rubber on the wheels and clean oil in the crankcase. And yes, nice to have choices.
Speaking of choices, there are many ways to help the victims of Helene. Donations are always valued. My own personal preference is for the American Red Cross, which always is at the ready to help people in need, but there are many worthy options out there.
The Blue Ridge region will be back, better than ever. We can help and the people of the area can count on it. What once was will ever be.
