Opinion: New friends, falling in love with a Dragon

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As I sit here cursing this infernal North Carolina deluge that is wreaking havoc with my well-laid plans to ride freely through these difficult to describe mountain roads, I’m thankful for the two perfect days of partnering for adventures with The Black Beauty.

Regular readers know that’s the moniker I’ve bestowed upon my Harley Road Glide 3 trike. On our maiden voyage to these “ride-like-you-know-what-you’re-doing” highways and byways, by all accounts from veteran bikers, we have both performed at an “A-plus” level.

That’s the consensus because we didn’t find ourselves in a ditch, off a mountain, or like so many others before us, contributors to the Deals Gap “Tree of Shame,” where metal carnage from motorcycle wrecks that run the gamut of seriousness have been laid to rest as their final resting place fastened to a tree in a motel parking lot.

The mangled, crinkled parts in this case are the lucky parties in this case.

I consider myself extremely fortunate on this trip to have made two solid experienced rider friends and for having fallen in love with a Dragon.

Highway 129, also known as Tail of The Dragon, is like being on a paved roller coaster consisting of 318 turns for an 11-mile jaunt through the North Carolina-Tennessee mountains. A twisted soul must have designed the road. Imagine being at an amusement park with a ride operator who had stopped off at their favorite watering hole for five too many, pulling the lever that sent you on this insidious road.

Anyone with a wrecker service would be in a perfect spot to clean up both monetarily and in terms of contributing the local junkyard.

Good friend Jerry Nix introduced me to Rick Robins and Biff Kinney, who know the area as if they were professors at the mountain college of “no hard knocks” in terms getting a nasty case of road rash.

Two characters who kept me safe and in stitches the whole time, Rick is the more cerebral of the two, meticulously planning the days down to the precise routes we would be taking. He has vast encyclopedic knowledge of the whole area. Along with the Dragon, I was blessed to experience rides on “Moonshiner 28,” “Cherohala Skyway,” and “The Foothills Parkway.”

The latter was my favorite, a meandering long ride through the Great Smoky Mountains National Park.

Then there was Biff, who had me on the floor with tales of family gatherings and relatives of all shapes and sizes.

I found it hilarious that these two macho bikers are roller skaters or “jam skaters,” who are the scourge of a Gwinnett rink, where their exploits are available online.

I’ve never met anyone named “Biff,” and the name was foreign to me except for familiarity with the ruffian from “Back To The Future” films.

I mentioned Biff making me almost choke on my lunch talking of Thanksgiving and certain members’ prowess with cleaning their plates.

I’m going to keep his name in my contacts. His cousin is Freddie Freeman, and maybe there’s a chance I can write about him.

Our headquarters for the trip was The Iron Horse Motorcycle Resort, nestled in a lush, green site near Robbinsville, N.C. There are accommodations for everyone, ranging the gamut from huge rooms to – get this – covered wagons just like you saw in all those cowboy movies.

The entire property embodies all the good elements that goes with “rustic.” I loved it and hope I didn’t gum things up too badly for Rick and Biff. Jerry has become somewhat of a mentor who has so many admirable traits, and his calm demeanor is settling.

So, with the first big motorcycle trip under my belt, I’m in love with The Dragon but figured two unscathed rides with no Black Beauty entrails on the Tree of Shame was sufficient.

Mike Tasos has lived in Forsyth County for more than 30 years. He’s an American by birth and considers himself a Southerner by the grace of God. He can be reached at [email protected].

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