I took my time, and stopped off in Bethlehem, where an abandoned (and crumbling) old steel mill had been turned into a Casino and shopping outlets. 
© 2013 Tigh Loughhead

I don't usually talk about cars here, but tonight I'm going to make an exception and digress. Asheville is a cool town.  Our hotel was located a bit west of downtown, so we had to call another cab, which we disputed, as it was a $55 up front bill, not including tip. Between the three of us though, we managed to justify that split between us, this would be the typical cost of a cab ride in NYC. Turns out it was one of the best investments we made the whole trip.

Twenty minutes after reception made the call, a guy rolls up in a blacked out Infinity FX35, and he's blasting Silk's "Freak Me" as loud as he possibly can on the stereo.  He presumes (on his own) that three dudes are cruising for ladies, and proceeds to chauffeur us around the city of Asheville, blasting some of the grimiest R&B (think Boyz II Men, even some Sade...) you could imagine.

Finally, we arrived at Pack's Tavern, where we were starving, and had some great beer and food. We were bushed from the long ride that day, plus I had finally and begrudgingly decided to turn around and go back to my job in NYC, so we planned on an early night.
We called the cab company again, who said our driver was busy, but they would send someone else.  15 minutely later, up rolls a 80's-era Cadillac Fleetwood stretch limo.
To make things more wild, this classic pimpmobile was being driven by a (easily 300lb) black dude named "Roosevelt," also blasting seriously raunchy R&B, this time accompanied by music videos broadcasting on two flatscreen tv's inside the limo.


© 2013 Tigh Loughhead

I had planned on turning around and going back home today.  However, we were out a little late last night (in bed sometime after 3am, though I swore it was closer to 11:30) and got up early (7am).  I had planned on taking two days down and three days back up, but I was having a blast and the boys were trying to see how far they could get me to go...

Here i am posing for the camera.
 Around lunchtime my boys got their GoPro's out, but alas, the beauty of the day had brought out the tourists. The roads leveled off and we were stuck behind some Monday drivers.  At one point, I was leading, stuck behind a Suburban using the brakes more than the gas for 45 minutes before I had a chance to pass legally. Of course he sped up, and my boys followed, directly into the lane of an oncoming cop.


© 2013 Tigh Loughhead

This is what the roads looked like all day:
 And the scenery...
 More turns, turns and more turns....
 There was simply no traffic.  We had the roads all to ourselves.  We got a little bit nervy towards about 6pm, when none of us had cell phone reception and we got lost with no cell phone reception.
© 2013 Tigh Loughhead

Parked outside the Bright Morning Inn in Davis, West Virginia

© 2013 Tigh Loughhead

Six months ago, a friend of mine DynastySS told me he was moving back to the West Coast after 7 years in NYC.  His company Streeteasy was acquired by Zillow, and he was going to take the long way round to get back home.  He asked if I was interested in riding 300 miles / day non stop to San Francisco, to which I replied, "...on my Monster?"  He said something along the lines of, "That bike is a cruiser compared to mine...I'm going to get my Triumph 675R track bike legal and take it across the country." Crazy...






When Ducati released the 899 Panigale a few months later, inspired by Antihero's epic trek, he changed his mind and decided to take a Duc from Coast to Coast.  I've been gearing up for some serious touring of my own, and strongly considered joining, but the last two months of my motorcycling life have been simply awful, since this asshole sold me an ST3 with a bad ECU (more to come on that- the bike has been sitting at Fast by Ferracci for the past month).  Amidst weekly trips to PA and getting sick, I haven't even had a chance to ride with the DOCNYC yet this year, and I figured it didn't really make sense to limp along on a cross country trip.

Finally, last weekend I had a chance to do some maintenance on the Monster: to mount the rear tire at Kiss Honda, and change the oil, and get it back up to NYC for the season. Feeling a bit rushed, I asked my buddy and his friend, riding a brand new Aprilia Tuono V4R, if I could come along on their cross country trip for a day or two, as I had taken off work a month ago.  I also had off on Good Friday, and was planning packing Friday on meeting them the following day in central PA, but my rear brakes suddenly started grinding.

My Duc-saavy brother in-law offered to help me (yet again) at 6:30am Saturday morning (I was supposed to join the boys at 11am an hour away), and sure enough, the cheap Chinese brake pads I put in had ground down to metal in less than six months.  I called every cycle shop I knew, and nobody had brake pads in stock. My bro's dad had some, so we went over to his house and took the caliper apart, only to discover they didn't fit. Finally, they suggested a place in Harrisburg called Koup's Cycle Shop, who had pads in stock, but only did registrations on Saturdays.  After some desperate pleading, they agreed to try to fit me in "sometime" during the day, but with "no promises."  I had all but given up, as it was already noon by the time I got to Koup's, when I got a text that the boys were running an hour late...
The guys at Koup's were utterly fantastic!  They took care of me immediately, and I was in and out within twenty minutes. Finally, the fickle Ducati god's were smiling down on me...I rode out to find a phone charger, and stopped at a Verizon store, where apparently no one had seen a Ducati before, as several people bizarrely asked to take my picture with the bike.


Then I rode to the nearest gas station and sat down in the sun while charging my phone.   The boys were a couple hours behind schedule, but I didn't mind at all. By the time they arrived, I was ready to roll...  Several people were incredibly friendly and chatty, including a self-proclaimed motorcycle mechanic bragging about burning out his 1200 Gremlin cruiser (? guessing a Harley) and an awesome guy named Victor, who regaled us with stories of jumping off his Goldwing, and his father's disdain of Japanese bikes, and a veritable rant about the 899 not having a frame.


 © 2013 Tigh Loughhead