Blue Ridge Blues...

MikeO

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Dereham, Norfolk, today...
30th September

I'm up relatively early, as Hank (an ADVRider - pfestus) is meeting me at the lobby for breakfast. Evelyn, the acceptable face of receptionists in Roanoke, very kindly allows Hank to join me in the 'complimentary' breakfast for free - top girl.:thumb

Hank is a EMT (Paramedic) who is also trained as a fire-fighter - a combination not found (to my knowledge) in the UK, where paramedics are specialists in the Ambulance Service - but not unusual here.

We have a good breakfast and Hank offers me the use of his garage (about 15 miles away) to do a precautionary oil change in the final drive - a look at the oil and the magnetic drain plug should give us the definite ok/shot assessment.

Hank departs to do some errands, I go back to my room and spend the next few hours wrestling with flight schedules and hotel companies, whilst emailing some friends back in the UK and trying to arrange some short notice accommodation and other stuff (like buying a car, so I've got transport when I get back in November...).

I look up and realise it's 1400 already, so quickly get booted & suited and before leaving, check my pre-load on the rear shock. This is adjusted by a handwheel on the left side of the bike. I find that it's been wound almost completely off - someone had obviously tampered with the bike when it was parked in Beckley. I wind it back up and leave for Hank's place, via an Auto Zone, to buy some synthetic gear oil.

My route takes me up the Blue Ridge Parkway, part of which I rode when I was here last, back in February. It’s a tourist road - no commercial traffic, and is designed to be a scenic drive - it's very successful...

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...although I'm only seeing the beginning of the colours that will be on display here in a couple of weeks (when I'm in the UK :yelrotflm). After some re-calculating, when Bettie tries to entice me down a track that was last used just after the last Ice Age, I arrive at Hank's place, which is built on top of a small hill and has a great view. Hank's bikes...

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...a 98 GS (with a vanity plate - what a poser :rolleyes: :D ) and an old 75/5 combination...

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...are joined by my bike in the garage. We drop the oil out and, to my relief, it's fine - whatever is causing the problem, it isn't another toasted final drive. After re-filling the drive, I do a throttle body balance and a TPS re-set, all of which should've helped sort out the surging and rough running which is now affecting the bike at all speeds. Even as I manage to get a pretty consistent synchronisation, I know it hasn't cured the problem, I can feel the engine's roughness even when the bike's static...

Hank gets suited up and we take the long way back to the hotel, through some great little back roads...

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...with Hank leading at a nice steady pace. The trouble is, my mind isn't on the pretty hillside roads we're riding - it's wondering what the problem with the suspension is (it seems like it wants to buck me off on anything other than a smooth surface) - it's also wondering what's wrong with the fuelling, causing the bike to run in such a rough and lumpy manner - and of course, it's also full of a million details I need to sort out before I depart for the UK next week.

After a while, when we come to a stop, I apologise to Hank and tell him I need to get back to the hotel - agreeing to come out for a ride when I've this much on my plate was a mistake. We ride back and I say my goodbyes - a shame, another time Hank would've been an excellent chap to show me around this part of Virginia, but it's not to be - sorry Hank & thanks!

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I get back to my room and I'm still emailing and sorting stuff out at midnight, when it becomes October...

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1st October

I wake with a thousand things running through my head – I spend the first couple of hours on the computer, sorting out accommodation back in the UK – by odd coincidence (in October), most of my mates are out of the country or will be by the time I get back – I’m trying not to take it personally… :D

I take ages packing and getting my sh1t together – I think there’s a reason for this – the bike has become such a trial to ride, I’m trying to put it off…

I set off south east down the Blue Ridge Parkway. It’s an odd sort of morning (who am I kidding – it’s gone 1200) – with a low overcast and some mist in the valleys. The bike stutters and surges its way along at the 45mph speed limit but, as the road climbs into the hills, visibility decreases, until I’m riding in thick fog. It doesn’t last long (in fact, it’s low cloud, rather than fog, and clears in the next valley). The next valley is a familiar one to me – I stayed here in February, when the lake was frozen – this is the lodge at the Peaks of Otter…

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I’m soon climbing back into more fog though – it’s pointless, so , as I descend into the next valley, I turn off the Parkway - it ceases to be a scenic route in this weather – and set Bettie the task of pointing me towards New York, 400 miles distant, off the main roads.

She routes me along some fairly major roads to begin with and takes me though Lynchburg – an historic town – unfortunately, the route Bettie puts me on seems to miss any historic features…

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…although the river, swollen by recent rains, has a spectacular fountain, jetting water 50 feet or so into the air.

I keep riding north east but, when Bettie turns me down a (paved) side road which had a less than ideal surface, the handling on the bike gets so bad, I stop. I know for certain I’m going to find a rear puncture, or broken spokes. To my utter bafflement, there’s nothing apparently amiss. The tyre pressure is spot on, the tyre seems to be seated correctly and has no obvious deformities either in the tread pattern or sidewalls. The spokes all seem secure, and deliver the same musical note when struck with a spanner - a dull note might indicate a crack or looseness. It’s a mystery. The only slightly unusual thing I can see is that the tyre’s tread pattern hasn’t ‘squared off’ much – bearing in mind I’ve been riding a lot of fairly straight roads since I’ve been in the USA, I’m used to the centre of the tyre flattening out. This one looks, if anything, more worn on the edges. Whatever – I’ve entirely lost confidence in the handling of the bike and I unhappily get back on and ride slowly along the rest of the side road. When I regain a well surfaced road, the ride improves (spoilt only by the ever-present rough running of the engine). Pretty soon I’ve had enough – I check into an Econo-lodge in Charlottesville, eat an entirely forgettable Chinese meal at the restaurant next door and try not to think about having to ride the bike again tomorrow…

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