Another Weekend Adventure: Big Money Rally Bonus-Hunting

The promise of a sunny and relatively warm weekend after a long stretch of wintery weather … some high-point, limited-time bonuses to be scored in the Big Money Rally … a clear schedule between Friday evening and Saturday night. It must be time to ride!  And so began another weekend motorcycle adventure of graupel, stars, sun, gravel, water, snow, and praises for the wonder of paved roads with more than one lane.

As I headed south to Jeff’s house after work on Friday, a squall blew in, plastering my car in snow, rain, sleet, and graupel. (That's a real word; it's on the hood of the car!) The outdoor temperature (as read by my car) plummet from 52 degrees several minutes into the storm to about 40 degrees, at the rate of about a degree a minute. Fortunately, the squall passed as fast as it came in, leaving a chillier but beautifully clear night in its wake.

We waited for rush hour to subside, mounted Jeff’s BMW R1200GSA, and then headed into Southern Virginia. A few hours later, the clear evening yielded a canopy of dazzling bright stars and a nearly full moon (the remainder of a supermoon from two nights earlier.)

Our weekend had two primary goals. For about 25 points, we needed to be Asheboro, NC at 11:00 a.m. eastern time at a motorcycle museum; and sometime on Saturday we needed to photograph a particular sign for Upshur County, WV for about 18 points. In BMR terms, these are very high points. And we needed to be back in Northern Virginia on Saturday night so Jeff could catch an early morning flight to Hawaii on Sunday.  It wasn’t the first time that we had crossed through parts of Virginia, North Carolina, and West Virginia in less than 24 hours. It’s not an ideal way to experience these beautiful states, but doable.

We made a couple of quick stops on the way south Friday for geocaches and a BMR bonus, but for the most part headed straight to South Hill VA our stopping point for Friday night. Jeff had made a reservation that morning, snagging what appeared to be the last room in the only hotel that wasn’t already sold out in this rural community. That's how we ended up at a Comfort Inn. A fishing tournament had filled every hotel, and the parking lots were crammed with boats.

I generally nix anything in the Comfort Inn and Quality Inn line since my few experiences haven’t been good. This time, the hotel looked pretty new, the desk clerk was very welcoming and efficient, and so we got our key, rode the elevator to the third floor, and walked into the bottom of a really nasty ashtray.  At least that’s what our room smelled like. We headed back to the lobby.

The desk clerk had disappeared, so I had plenty of time to peruse the signs advertising the hotel as 100% smoke-free and threatening anyone who smoked in a guest room with a $250 fee for deep-cleaning the room.  Jeff went out to cover the bike and found the clerk – having a cigarette in the parking lot. She came back in, advised me they were sold out, and fished out a can of room freshener ("fresh linen" scent) as the solution to our problem. I didn’t know that stuff cost $250 a squirt!

The room freshener provided temporary respite, but by morning the room stank again and my sinuses were completely congested. But, at least, the shower had hot water, the breakfast was adequate, and by 8 a.m. we were on our way, with “no Comfort Inns” re-etched in our travel ethos.


The 8 a.m. start gave us time for a quick stop at Bennett Place, a historic farmhouse where General Johnston surrendered to General Sherman on April 26, 1865, 17 days after Appomattox and shortly after President Lincoln was assassinated. Johnston surrendered over 89,000 troops in Florida, Georgia, and the Carolinas, which was the largest surrender of the war and thus the one that truly ended it, notwithstanding the far better PR that gives the surrender at Appomattox Court House that credit.






Then onward to Asheboro N.C. for American Classic Motorcycle Co. This was a BMR bonus worth about 25 points (the highest number of points for a bonus in this competition). All we needed was an exterior photo of the place taken between 11 a.m. and noon, but we arrived a bit early, so I went inside. The downstairs is a restaurant with a parts and service counter at the back of one side. Upstairs there’s a Harley museum. It has a great collection of old bikes, ads, and other paraphernalia that underscores how Harley became such an American icon. There were even Harley Barbie and Ken dolls!

Barbie & Ken Harley dolls!

The next highlight was Greensboro NC to photograph the Woolworth’s where the lunch counter sit-ins to protest segregation began. February 1, 1960. We planned to stop at this site on our summer 2019 vacation, but we moved the stop to this trip so we could use it as the focal point for our Rock n’ Ride intro photo (Sweet Honey in the Rock’s rendition of "Ballad of the Sit-Ins" is stunning.) We wanted to tour the civil rights museum as part of our visit, but this trip had to be scaled down from a full weekend, so the touring got scrapped. The other high-pointer for the Big Money Rally was a sign for Upshur County West Virginia, over 300 miles away, which also needed to be done on Saturday, so off we went. But Greensboro looked like a historic town that we'd like to come back to for a real visit.

It was a glorious day to be out on a motorcycle!

 Between us and Upshur County were opportunities to pick up numerous other bonuses and geocaches, and we did indulge a bit. The trip also required that we retrace routes we had taken before, including through the Big Walker Mountain tunnel (Tour of Honor, 2018; MD 2020, 2018) and across the New River bridge (multiple times in 2018, in part due to bad GPS directions). On this trip, our search for Nicholas County (a BMR word match) took us to Summersville, WV.  Summersville is a rather out of the way location and has no particularly notable attractions, yet this was our third visit to Summersville in less than a year.  Our first trip was April 1, 2018 when we attempted to complete all seven West Virginia Tour of Honor locations in one day, vying for recognition as one of the top three riders or teams to do so. We might have succeeded if only we had photographed the right monument in front of the Nicholas County courthouse! The second trip amended that error, allowing us to complete WV, but long after the bragging rights to a top three spot had been lost. We were back in front of that same courthouse again, this time to photograph the phrase “Nicholas County,” and we still hadn’t stopped at Fran’s coffee house across the street. (On our first trip, I was severely under-caffeinated, but we were on rally time. So I could only stare longingly at the "cappuccino" sign -- so close and yet out of reach.)

After we completed Nicholas and several other county word-match bonuses, we headed for Upshur County. The GPS routed us off of Interstate 79 near Flatwoods. It seemed an odd route. While, it did appear to be a shorter way than the interstates to get across the mountains, at least as the crow flies, there were no main roads on the map. But the GPS had a plan. (This might be an appropriate place to note that neither cell phones nor GPS work well in WV. The cell phones don’t get reception and the GPS relies on data that is just poorly coded and mapped. We know that. But sometimes we are forgetful. Or overly optimistic. Or inexplicably gullible.)

We missed the first turn, which looked more like a private access road than a public by-way, but Jeff recognized the error immediately. It took a while to find somewhere safe enough and wide enough to turn around, but he did and we found our road. The new road was a narrow and occasionally gravelly and patched road that took us up the mountain sides, around blind corners, and soaring into deep valleys. We only encountered two or three on-coming vehicles, which was fortunate, since it was a tight squeeze even for one vehicle and a motorcycle. There were pipeline operations with heavy equipment and a number of homes, including mobile homes, on the steep hillsides on either side of the road. Although it seemed difficult to imagine moving anything as large as a mobile home, lumber, or earthmoving equipment along that road, it had apparently been done many times before. But, the quality of the road kept degrading and I think we were both looking forward to the end of it. Jeff mentioned that he had located the sign we were searching for on street view, and the road with the sign was well paved.

Eventually we came to a T-intersection with a little gazebo and a sign touting WV by-ways. The GPS pointed us to the road on the right, but it looked far worse than the road we were on. To our right the road was a rocky, gravely track that had been eroded into a washboard. To the left, the road was narrower than the one we had been on, and more patched and with more loose gravel, but it was more or less paved and had a sign describing it as a “parkway.” Jeff said that either road would work, according to the GPS, and opted for the one to our left. He noted that although that way would be a few miles longer, it seemed like the better of two not-so-great options.

The promise that this would be an OK road deteriorated rapidly. It was a narrow one-lane track, hard-packed dirt and gravel with lots of rocks and ruts. At one spot we got chased by a loose dog while his two companions strained at their chains. Every time we came to what looked like it might be a cross-road or intersecting road, I hoped we had found the spot where the mountain track would reconnect us to civilization. There had to be one. After all, the people who lived back here (and there were quite a few) must have to get to a grocery store once in a while! Plus, it was getting late in the day and this road wouldn’t look better at dusk or at night.

When we came to a steep descent on a curve in the road where the dirt had been fortified with large loose gravel, I thought we were going to lose it. This was really nasty terrain. I held on tight, anticipating a skid at any moment. Even at the snails’ pace we were traveling it would have hurt to lay the bike down in that gravel, and there was a steep drop off the side of the road.

Part of the road, just above the really nasty part

Thanks to Jeff’s care and patience we stayed upright, but after that stretch in particular, there were only three good things I could say about this road: (1) the scenery was gorgeous; (2) it can’t get any worse; and (3) at least we won’t have to come back this way.

Only one of those proved to be correct.

On the way back, I walked up the hill where the gravel pit was and again, Jeff managed to keep the bike upright. The dog chased us again, while his companions barked their approval of his vigilance and, again, he didn’t catch us. Eventually we reached the point where we had made the fateful turn to the left and opted for the other route.

This road was equally as narrow and rough as the last, but flatter and straighter than the other, so the lousy road conditions were not quite as terrifying. We learned we were on Bogg’s Mill Road from a sign posted right across the water from where we had been standing just a short while ago. We emerged somewhere near Cleveland (unincorporated, WV) where we extolled the wonders of pavement and two-lane roads, where an on-coming vehicle can pass without threatening the other with going over the side of a cliff. We also found we had many other things to appreciate: the bike stayed upright; the Enduro mode feature on the GSA really works; we got through the mountains before dark; we didn’t run out of gas; and we really would NOT have to go back that way.

We found our Upshur County sign. It was a nondescript county line sign. The historic marker on the other side of the road describing Upshur County on one side and Webster County on the other was more interesting, and could have been a somewhat more challenging bonus, but Jeff photographed the one we needed while I examined the others.  Then we rode up Route 20, a quick and easy ride, into Buckhannon for the word-of-the-day.

Although our word of the day bonus was only half a block from C.J. Maggies, which has possibly the best pizza I’ve ever eaten, it was dark by then and we were still four hours from home and less than 12 hours from the time Jeff’s plane would take off in the morning. So, no pizza for us.

Instead, we had a long, and very cold ride home. Temperatures dipped to about 30, and as we crossed the mountains, the road was covered in hard packed snow. Given where we had been earlier in the afternoon, Jeff took it with ease. The heat in my left glove had stopped working earlier, and I hadn’t worn heated pants, but it was the cold seeping around my helmet and freezing my face that was most uncomfortable. The stars, however, were amazing and the moon was the same huge orb that we had seen the night before.

And so ended another adventure.

A Spring Ride

March 30 

April 1 is the start of the Tour of Honor (ToH), a motorcycle event in which the participants visit and photograph a designated set of memorials.  Although in past years Jeff has sought only to be a finisher in this grand tour, this year he decided to try for one of trophies.  Trophies are awarded to the first three finishers of all seven memorials in any single state.  Jeff set his sights on trying to visit all seven of the Virginia memorials on the first day of the tour.

Given Virginia’s geography, his strategy was to position us in south/southwestern Virginia the night before so that we’d be moving north and toward home as we completed the ToH bonuses. Although there is no deadline for completing the full state tour (other than the end of the tour, October 31), finishing as quickly as possible, for example, on the first day possible, certainly increases your chances of being the first, second, or third to do so.  Since April 1 was Easter Sunday and we both had to be to work on Monday, the counterclockwise path that Jeff anticipated seemed like an economical use of time.  He suggested Abingdon as our Sunday starting point both because it was a cute town and because it was the location of Zazzy’z coffee house. 

The interest in Zazzy’z dates to the spring of 2017, the Big Money Rally (BMR, which despite it’s name is a tour, not a rally), and my competitive nature.  Being new to Grand Tours and motorcycling generally, as of early 2017 I had not paid much attention to how these tours were operated.  Until, that is, the day when Jeff casually mentioned over lunch, after a morning of bonus hunting, that we had achieved “bronze” status in the BMR.  Until that moment, I had no idea that Grand Tours could be competitive.  But once I knew, I was on it! 

The 2017 BMR included points for finding words that ended in Z and started with each of the letters of the alphabet.  So, I supplemented Jeff’s work with the goal of completing the alphabet.  Artz, Benz, Cutz, Dogz, etc. proved pretty easy given America’s love for “cute” misspellings and incorporation of other languages.  But I, X and Z were real challenges.  After extensive hunting, I found Zazzy’z in Abington.  Jeff didn’t actually use it in the 2017 BMR, opting instead for Zumiez, but when passing by it in early 2017 he did take a picture of it for me and therefore it became a destination spot for us.  (By the way, we did find a word for every letter and got points for every letter except for X.  We found “Salon XYZ” and “X-Rayz” but both were disallowed, the first for not being a word – seriously, why is XYZ not a word when Artz or Dogz are? – and the second due to its hyphen).

I digress.  Back to March 30, 2018.

Early on the morning of March 30 we started our journey toward Abington.  We used this ride as on opportunity to add to our bonus finds for BMR 2018 and the Team Strange “Melting Pot” tour, both of which were already active.  With such lousy weather this spring, we still had lots of potential bonuses in Virginia we had not yet reached.

We meandered through Lake Ridge (BMR’s word of the day “Bee” at the “Bee Store”), Fredericksburg (for “Bowman’s Consulting,” another BMR) and then headed west along Route 3 (Plank Rd) through Chancellorsville and other historic Civil War sites.  As we neared Constitution Hwy, Jeff decided to pull off to adjust the tire pressure on the bike.  He noted we were near an unusual virtual geocache (one he had already found) and so thinking I’d enjoy finding it, turned onto Constitution Hwy and down a small side road next to a small cemetery.  The cache was the grave site of Stonewall Jackson’s left arm, which according to the notes was buried in the Lacey family burial plot. 

I set off to find this cache, not realizing (1) the cache was in a National Park site and (2) Jeff pulled off quite away short of it.   After hiking more than .3 miles across the cemetery (which I at first thought would be the destination), a cornfield, and a small grove of trees, around a drainage ditch and up a hill – in full motorcycle gear – I saw over the hill a house, and a man in a reflective vest.  Thinking I was about to hike into someone’s front yard, I prepared to turn back when I saw a parking lot and realized that the Lacey plot was probably not an obscure spot on the edge of a cornfield but part of a public site.  So, I continued on.  As I neared the building, the man in the vest AND a park ranger approached me, both asking:  “Where did you come from?”  I suppose I was quite a sight – in heavy black garb topped with a silver helmet and dangling with wires (from the heated gear).  Assuring me I was welcomed, the man pointed me toward the cemetery where I indeed found the grave site. 

Realizing that Jeff by now probably thought I was lost (we were well outside the range of the radio), I tried calling and texting him to pick me up rather than taking the return trek across the cornfield.  However, the novelty of my arrival had apparently endeared me to the guy in the vest.  He intercepted me on my way to meet Jeff to invite me to tour the house (“It’s open today!”) and, once I explained my ride was coming, urged me to get Jeff to stop as well. 

As I was waiting for Jeff, the vest guy and I had a lovely chat about the trees (the 4^th largest black walnut in America, a stately sycamore, a sugar maple largely out of my line of sight, but which they reportedly tap in the spring, and a pecan tree that does not bear nuts because you need a male and female tree and they have only one).  He also volunteered that the lemons that I had likely seen at the grave (which I had) were left as tributes because they apparently were a favorite fruit of Jackson’s. The vest guy also confided that his supervisor sometimes rides her motorcycle out to the site and so when he first saw me, he thought it might be her turning up unexpectedly (and from a very odd direction).  Having long since realized I was at a National Park location, I took a wild shot and said “Oh, would that be Kirsten?” (another member of the long-distance riding community who I had met at the Iron Butt Rally finishers' banquet last spring).  He was a bit surprised I knew her, but not terribly.  Just then, Jeff, with the really incredibly noticeable headlights, appeared from among the trees and gingerly rolled down the gravely drive to get me.  My new friend was crestfallen that Jeff wasn’t interested in touring the house but happily urged us to come back again.  And so we moved on.

The remainder of the ride that day was notable primarily for being stunningly beautiful.  We traversed tiny back roads, up and down hills, around hairpin turns and across rolling hills in the bright spring sunshine.  We rolled through a number of tiny towns including Oriskany, VA, with its adorable post office, and saw a slew of people sky jumping at a regional airport.

We made a stop at Roaring Run Furnace, which was well worth it.  Jeff had previously visited the spot in the middle of the night to get a photo of the iron gate, flanked by stone pillars.  But it is also a virtual geocache and on this return visit we had abundant sunlight and enjoyed the short walk up to the old furnace, across the burbling run. 

 We also attempted a geocache that we expected to find off a country lane, but that lane was a deeply rutted and muddy “goat trail” forcing us to turn back long before reaching the cache.  The turn-around included a rear tire stuck in the mud but the side trip was not for naught.  On the way in I noticed a trail head sign with a picture of a bird on it.  On the way out we pulled in for a closer look and picked up three bird name bonuses for the BMR – turkey, woodpecker and goldfinch.  Signs like this are helpful because they include birds with names – like goldfinch -- that never show up elsewhere.  Earlier this year I found a similar sign with “dowitcher,” which would otherwise have been impossible.  (My 2017 obsession with words ending in z has been transferred to the 2018 bird name list.  These bonuses were devalued after they were first announced and in the final scoring were worth only about six-tenths of a point each, but having spent over a month trying to work over the list, I was fully vested in them, even if nearly worthless.  Signs with multiple birds provide some economy of scale at least.)  The trip was also filled with reminiscence of our last year’s search for mountain names.  The Walker Mountain tunnel– shown in the over-the-shoulder shot – was not part of last year’s quest, but it could have been!

Another geocache – successful – led us to a bluff off the Appalachian Trail with a spectacular view.

We collected a number of other bonuses over the course of the day and pulled into Abingdon shortly after dark.  We scoped out the potential spots for dinner (we hadn’t eaten all day except for breakfast at home and some snack bars), stopped to pick up “creeper” (in the dark) and then had a decent dinner at a Mexican place in a strip mall and spent the night at a Super 8. 

April 1

We started the day at the Super 8 in Abingdon VA, waking shortly before 5 a.m., a bit later than anticipated.  While I showered, Jeff downloaded the Tour of Honor (ToH) bonus list that had been released during the night and began planning the day’s trip – hoping to be the first, or at least second or third, to get all 7 of the memorials in Virginia.  When I emerged from the shower he said, somewhat hesitantly, that he had a route that we could do, but it might be longer than I would like.  How long?  1025 miles in 18 hours.  He assured me that if part way through I wanted to cut it short and head home, that would be okay.  Looking at the route, it was apparent that even quitting half way through wouldn’t shorten the ride by much.  The route had us scouring southern and central Virginia, then crossing the bay-bridge tunnel and heading north on the peninsula, passing by DC and catching the last bonus in the northern reaches of Virginia.  Even if we stopped when we neared Washington, short of the last bonus, that would be a very full day.  Further, it was Sunday so the next day was work for both of us and at 18 hours of predicted time, even hustling, we wouldn’t get home until early morning.  Even Jeff didn’t sound very enthusiastic about this; whether doubtful about taking me on this trek or just generally, I couldn’t tell.  I promised to look at the route more closely while he showered. 

A couple of things about the map stood out.  First, there were a few bonuses that were as close to us as the ones Jeff had picked out, except they were in West Virginia.  Second, West Virginia is much smaller than Virginia.  So, when he came out of the shower I asked if we could do West Virginia instead.  After running some quick calculations, he said – yeah! – about 700 miles and 14 hours.  That seemed much more doable to me.  So, we were off!

With the additional trip planning we didn’t hit the road until just before 7 a.m.  Having planned on Virginia, not West Virginia, we weren’t ideally situated, but it wasn’t terrible.  We blew off the first previously planned stop (not a ToH site) and got our first of the seven West Virginia ToH memorials –a Vietnam Veterans’ memorial– at a West Virginia welcome center.  Our second ToH stop took us up Route 19, across the stunning New River Gorge, to Summersville.  We parked in the lot for the city jail (ignoring the signs that said police parking only) and we got a picture with the flag and bike of the large monument in the center of the yard, dedicated to the two daughters of Henry Morris, who were killed in 1792, “Last Victims of Indian Treachery in WV,” and then read the plaque commemorating Nancy Hart, Confederate spy.  I took pictures of the Morris memorial and the Hart information, while Jeff wandered about a bit snapping pictures of the other memorials scattered about the yard, including one to a deputy.  I glanced at that one too, while eying Fran’s coffeehouse across the street and deciding whether I wanted to force a cappuccino stop.  (I was dead tired the night before and the hum of the highway riding had been putting me to sleep, despite the early morning hours.  Napping in the pillion seat never seems like a great idea, so I thought some caffeine might be a good idea).

Deciding to forego Fran’s, we hopped back on the bike and headed south on Route 19, crossing the New River Gorge a second time, and then turned off on a route that promised to route us to Gauley’s Bridge, and possibly past another coffee shop.  The route to Gauley’s Bridge was a bust.  After following a pick-up truck down a well-paved but narrow lane, we found our turn-off.  It was a mud patch leading to a rutted and crumbling road that – despite the GPS’ insistence that it had a state route number – looked like the poorly maintained driveway to a long-abandoned farm.  After yesterday’s experience, we decided that would be “The Road Not Taken” and retraced our steps to the highway.  We made another pass at looking for a coffee shop, ending up on narrow dead-end drive in Fayetteville (that at least was paved!), settled for a Starbucks “shot” from the Little General Store at the Exxon gas station, and backtracked on Route 19 to pick up Route 60.

Route 60 was an absolutely stunning ride, even on this grey overcast day.  It winds along the bluff over the New River offering some breathtaking views of the deep gorge which would have been even better if we were going southwest (that is, in the other direction).  The New River meets up with the Gauley River at Gauley Bridge, after which Route 60 tracks along the banks of the Kanawha River which is formed by the intersection of the other two rivers.  Jeff reminisced about his first cross-country drive as a newly commissioned naval officer heading to his first post at Newport News.  He recalled how amazed he was by the Route 60 landscape and eastern landscape generally, so unlike the Western landscape in which he had lived until then.

A stop in Charleston got us a Liberty Bell replica for the Melting Pot tour and we continued on to our third ToH monument, in Barboursville.  This one was located in an expansive – really expansive – city park that included all sorts of recreational sites, a school, a lake, and our monument. 

Our fourth stop was in Point Pleasant on the banks of the Ohio.  Before reaching that monument, in a park on the Ohio River, we stopped for photos of the Mothman, an IBR site that was part of the 2018 BMR bonus list and long on the list of places that Jeff had promised to show me.  I can only think that every town that sees its fortunes fading should get a Mothman, complete with myth, sculpture, a haunted hotel, and the world’s ONLY Mothman
museum (which I’ll bet is completely true!)  It was awesome!


Stop number 5, in Williamstown, was dedicated to fallen highway workers and number 6 in Fairmont was another Vietnam Vets memorial with an impressive helicopter landing display right behind it.  We picked up a Doddridge County sign and an IBR giraffe for the BMR before sprinting for Seneca Rocks.

Part way through the day, Jeff had observed that Seneca Rocks, our last stop, was a daylight only bonus.  The directions warned that if we arrived too late, the gate might be closed.  After the giraffe, which we got sometime between 6 and 6:30 p.m., the GPS was predicting we’d arrive at our last memorial shortly before 8 p.m. which would be almost 20 minutes after sundown.  That meant we really needed to haul ass to get there, and preferably arrive faster than predicted. 

The route was over twisty mountain roads and the low cloud cover in several cases engulfed us.  The day had been overcast and chilly anyway, but as we headed over the mountains, the temperature dropped to about 39 degrees.  I was happy that in addition to my heated jacket I had added a turtleneck over my long-sleeve shirt back at the fallen highway worker memorial, but I was wishing for my heated pants. 

When we arrived at the Seneca Rocks National Park at about 7:44 p.m., the building was completely dark.  We continued down the road to the entrance driveway and to our surprise, the gate was wide open.  The park was completely deserted so we drove right to the front entrance.  As planned, we quickly took a picture of the bike and flag to establish daylight as early as possible and then hoofed it around back and a short way down the path to get the memorial.  Fortunately, there was a gap in the hills just behind the memorial that shone brightly in the pictures, affirming that night was not yet upon us.

Whew!  We did it!  We completed all seven stops and now had only the nearly 3-hour ride home left to accomplish for the day.  After stopping at the Sheetz in Moorefield for our first meal of the day (unless you count the PopTarts we ate in the hotel room and the snack bars we stuffed in our mouths at memorial stops), and a change into heated pants, we continued toward home.  Our journey was favored with a stunning, nearly full moon that played hide-and-seek with the scuttling clouds – truly a lovely sight lighting our way home.  That, and our hope that we were among the first to complete the 7 memorials of West Virginia, dispelled some of our exhaustion with elation.

My change over to full heated gear provide the opportunity for Jeff to observe that the GSA was able to support the bright lights, our two heated jackets, and the heated grips without a problem, but when I pushed my pants up to full power the alternator started to complain.  But at about quarter-power on the pants, the bike seemed to be okay and I was too, particularly since the temperature as we headed toward Interstate 66 was much higher than in the mountains. 

After arriving back at Jeff’s, I unpacked and put away my stuff and then got in my car for the drive back to DC.  As I neared home, the phone rang.  I was surprised to hear Jeff, who I had assumed was preparing to crash when I left him 20 minutes earlier.  “We photographed the wrong memorial!” he said with anguish in his voice.  It was the fallen deputy, not the Morris daughters, who should have been in our picture back at stop two.  In the drizzling rain, he had mistaken the picture match as viewed on his cell phone.

As it turns out, the three West Virginia trophies went to a team of three who rode together.  Whether we were faster than them or not, I don’t know, but if we weren’t we wouldn’t have gotten a trophy anyway.  It was a bitter ending to an otherwise great weekend. 

But then again, there’s next year!