MY OLD SCHOOL

And I’m never going back to my old school… Steely Dan or whateva? Backroads Central to Hancock, Maryland

Although a soggy veteran, I am not a fan of wet weather riding; but if you ride - I have a shirt for you. It simply says “Rain Happens.”

We will all get caught in it now and again. Worse, would be staring out in the rain.

That was what Dark Sky had foretold for us the night before, so we were somewhat heartened by the gray clouds and hit or miss mists that greeted our start south this Memorial Day Friday.

My headset and GPS spun up Steely Dan.

Well boy, I think I AM going back.

Every year we tell you about going to CLASS, Reg & Gigi Pridmore’s high-performance riding school, held for the last decade each year at Virginia International Raceway, right at the border between VA and North Carolina.

The difference this year was that it was being held in the middle of the spring, rather then in fall. Better for us, we thought, as it gave us a good head start on the season. (Like Ecuador was not enough?)

On this ride, I thought we could meander in a southwesterly ow. First through the Slate Belt and then the old mountains before crossing the Susquehanna River.

At some point in the southern Poconos, we ran high and into the thick clouds that had been our cover for the ride so far.

It reminded me of the Blue Ridge Parkway at its worst and about a halfhour and several gravel road miles later we dropped in altitude and could see the road once again – passing across the Appalachian Trail.

By this part of the day, early afternoon, we were on the way west, along Route 325, a piece of pavement that winds toward the Susquehanna River atop the deep valley’s ridge in a happy and easy-going manner.

When we had turned off Gold Mine Road onto 325, I took note of a large dark SUV – ghosted out with the words Game Warden across the doors. To me, Game Warden deserves the same respect that any other LEO does – and that is plenty. Still, I could not help but notice a few miles down the road that he was ghosting us from behind.

We were in no rush and just a tad over the posted limit, so we kept on – with the GPS alerting us we’d have 20 or so miles of this before the next vector change.

A short time later Shira mentioned that she thought we had police behind us. I agreed and then she said he has lights. She meant lights on. I glanced in my left mirror and sure enough – the spinning blues!

Pulling up next to our now side of the road parked machines, the Game Warden hit the button and dropped the passenger side window.

We rolled into Fire & Ice as the rain, winds and all H-E Double Hockey Sticks arrived!

The universe was watching over us as we tucked the two machines as far as we could under Fire & Ice’s awning and took a table and a spot on the oor for Aerostich suits that were shedding water and creating a small lake beneath themselves.

We love Fire & Ice and we had just found it just a month before during our Spring Break Rally.

Whilst we dined, the tempest cruised to the northeast and our post-time ride was ridden under a grayish mist that gave way by the mile to the rst scattering of sunlight and by early evening azure blue and puffy white ran to the horizon.

Once on the far side of the river, the ride picked up the pace as it slalomed through the Amish farmlands and then down towards the border into Maryland.

Along the way, we saved two and a half turtles. Box Turtles

Where are you going?

Lunch.

How far?

Maybe 10 miles, is there a problem?

There is indeed – we have SEVERE weather, possible tornadic issues, quickly rollin’ in. Please get to the restaurant as quickly as you can. He nodded, raised the window, and took off, with blue lights a spinnin.’

I pick up – Snappers I prefer not to, but we could direct some oncoming traf c around Snappy until that prehistoric bastard got safely to the other side of the road.

Along this same road, we passed a centuryold home with the most unusual lawn collection. Iron and metal statues and masks - lots of masks.

Hard on the brakes, I whipped a U-turn and went to investigate.

If this was not a private home I would have explored a bit more, but my Spidey-Sense was a tinglin’ and the collection of the webspinners masks had me thinking ‘felonious’ thoughts. Well, at least a B-misdemeanor.

It was very cool and left me envious.

Early evening found us along the C & O Canal and checking into a highway-side chain for the night. Dinner was found at a very interesting place called Buddylou’s – part restaurant, part antique curio shop, part dog haven.

Right along the canal, it was a most excellent nd.

Hancock, MD to Hot Springs, Virginia

We’d only be in Maryland for a short bit, but it is an interesting state, for sure.

MARYLAND FUN FACT Not only does Maryland have the coolest ag and that our own Mark Byers calls the state home, it is also a state with three… yes, count em’ Three…Nicknames.

Maryland has been called “ Miniature America” because so much is packed into its 10,460 square miles of land and water. You can nd just about any kind of natural feature here, except a desert. That’s because water is almost everywhere in Maryland. The “America in Miniature” title also applies to the role Maryland has played in our nation’s history, from the

founding of the United States to the present. And like our country, Maryland is home to ethnic groups of every origin. Famous Marylanders include politicians, lawyers, painters, craftspeople, writers, health professionals, and religious leaders. Maryland was home to the rst railroad, the rst dental school, and the rst umbrella factory. And Maryland inventors gave us the gas light, the linotype machine, and the refrigerator.

Maryland is also called the “Old Line State” and “Free State.” “The Old Line” nickname was given during the Revolutionary War when 400 soldiers in the First Maryland Regiment fought a British force of 10,000 and helped General George Washington’s army to escape. Washington depended on the Maryland Line throughout the war, and the soldiers’ discipline and bravery earned Maryland its nickname.

The name “Free State” was given in 1919, when Congress passed a law prohibiting the sale and use of alcohol. Marylanders opposed prohibition because they believed it violated their state’s rights. The “Free State” nickname also represents Maryland’s long tradition of political freedom and religious tolerance.

Just seconds after we had gotten the bikes in gear the next morning we were across the Potomac River and into the Mountain State of West Virginia – a state that needs only one nickname “By God!”

We love this state, always have - great roads, nice people, little Law Enforcement.

But, alas, our plan this day was to retrace some of the miles from last year’s Spring Break Rally, and thus we scooted toward the George Washington Forest and Fort Valley Road, in Virginia – our go-to romp when heading down through the Shenandoah River Valley.

Hell, it’s almost heaven.

Last year, when returning from CLASS, we had a long rain-soaked day that, at one point, found us off the Interstate (Yes, we can and do use the Big Roads when needed) and searching for fuel, both for the bikes and our stomachs, found a most interesting gas/restaurant-BBQ/ice cream-coffee shop. All of them seemed to have slightly different names – so we’ll stick with Melody’s Porch. Should you nd yourself in Strasburg, VA, Melody’s is a welcome respite from the slog of I-81. Regina makes a mean mug of bubble tea and the breakfast sandwiches hit the spot.

As we headed through the town of Strasburg, Virginia we stopped by the local museum. It was here that Stonewall Jackson brought nearly 20 locomotive and train cars, BY HORSE, to the town where they were

plopped back onto remaining rail tracks and put into service for the Confederacy. This is a story in itself. Keep reading Backroads as you know we will not let this tale lie for long.

We made the annual stop to visit the General Lee – the most famous Dodge Charger on the planet - and then headed up and over the mountain towards New Market and past the venerable battle eld.

The rest of the afternoon was spent at a quick pace. A Mary Poppins sort of day. Perfect roads. Perfect temperature. Perfect bikes for the day.

Practically perfect in every way, made even better by having Route 33’s charge over the tight mountain road back into West ‘By God’ Virginny back-marker free.

This road, on the Poppinsesque day, was magni cent. Nothing could wipe the shit-eating grin off our faces while we sipped our coffees at the Brandywine General Store.

We then slung back into Virginia along Bull Pasture River Road, truly amazing in so many ways, to Route 39 up and over the mountain making a stop at Dan Ingalls Overlook and chatting up with a contingent of Harley riders from North Carolina.

They were a Christian group and one asked if it would be alright to ask for God’s benevolence for us and our machines. It was a kind gesture and things like this are always and truly appreciated. If you know us (ok me), well we need all the help we can get sometimes.

Unfortunately, the Vine Cottage B & B in Hot Springs was booked, but the Roseloe Motel, just up the road, lled in for the night. Clean, comfortable, and, by chance, we met up with another rider, Ali, and the three of us headed to a local spot favored by the locals – thus me calling it a “local spot.” Warm Springs, VA to VIR

The next morning would start brisk and sharp, but gradually the heat and humidity began to roll in.

We cut east up and over the rst bit of foothills that runs to the mountain spine where the Blue Ridge Parkway lies, on Virginia Route 606, called McGraw Gap Road. Along the way, the name changes to Sulphur Spring, and when it does the road goes from nice to nice, nice, very nice.

This downhill run demands attention and was excellent to ride early this morning.

It was onto Route 220 into 622 across Dagger Springs and then we looped into Buchanan – home to the region’s Swinging Bridge.

The Swinging Bridge has a story - of course, it does. It is 366 feet long, 57.5 feet tall and the only one of its type to cross the James River. Portions of the bridge date back to 1851 and have witnessed Hunter’s Civil War Raid, the rerouting of U.S. Route 11, and numerous oods. Certainly a neat calling card for the town.

For us, the real winner was the Buchanan Fountain & Grill, right across from the movie theatre that had two icks and no charge this Memorial Day Weekend.

The Grill was certainly a step back in time, and breakfast was excellent, and the waitress and staff more than friendly. If we had time, we’d have stayed for Dr. Strange.

As we rode the twisty entrance to the Blue Ridge Parkway we crossed the Appalachian Trail - again. We seem to cross the trail quite a bit these days and, as Backroads Central is not far from it, it has become almost a part of our lives.

The Park Ranger at Peaks of Otter educated us on the local critters and we like it when we learn something new.

A good thing to do each day, dontcha think?

Off the Parkway, we crossed through the town of Bedford – home to the National D-Day Memorial. This is certainly a place to visit; especially this Memorial Day weekend. We have been here several times, but it never stops humbling us and it will surely do the same to you as well.

Our ride sped south, with us trying to link together an interesting afternoon of miles while getting to the track sooner rather than later.

We arrived in the late afternoon, signed in, got our room and garage, and prepared for two days of fun, riding, and (hopefully) some added smoothness.

We try to get to as many schools and riding courses as we can and Reg Pridmore and CLASS have been a part of our riding life each year for over two decades.

With CLASS you get to spend two days on one of the most beautiful tracks in the world.

No intrusive cars, animals, police, or wayward and clueless pedestrians. Everybody is going in the same direction and you get to see, learn and experience just what you and your machine are truly capable of.

Each day is full of multiple sessions of twenty minutes on the track and twenty minutes in the classroom.

Reg had a dozen instructors on hand and all these riders are of the highest caliber and will be very happy to work with you on different aspects of riding.

For me it was a true pleasure to have an instructor ride past me, turn slightly towards me and tap the back of their seat – motioning me to follow them through the 2.5-mile north course at VIR. Tracking them closely and matching them line for line and apex for apex is always an eye-opener for me and allows the willing rider/student to become better and better with each session. After a few laps we’d pull into the pit lane and discuss what I could improve on and do better; whether it be where I am looking, body-positioning, or correcting my entrance and exit lines.

Each session built on the last; and both Shira and I loved that this year’s CLASS was in the late spring and not the late autumn. This would allow us an entire riding season to work on all we’d learn in these two days. Most excellent. With two full days and 250 miles of track time under our belts, our day began to pull into the pits for the nal classroom session, with both groups in attendance. After completion certi cates were handed out, Shira, Mark and I took a moment to celebrate the beauty behind CLASS with this year’s Backroads’ Lifetime Achievement in Motorcycling Excellence award (or L.AM.E. as we affectionately call it. Yes, Gigi Pridmore is smooth as silk on the track but also smooths out all the bumps behind the scenes.

It has become tradition to hold a Pizza Party in our combined garages on Tuesday. The track’s Oak Tree Tavern was ne for the two days, but the menu has been less than it once was, and who does not love a Pizza Party.

All were invited and Betsy and Shira scooted out in the early evening returning with a dozen-plus pies, various beers, wine, and sodas. Reg, Gigi, all the instructors, and many of the students attending CLASS came over for the evening.

Earlier in the day, a large semi rolled in… and then another and yet another. It was odd how VIR had held us back from getting to our room and garages – booked and paid in full months back – yet, these car carriers seemed to have not the same restriction.

By 7 pm the paddock area, that was solidly ours for the last two days,

was invaded by an overwhelming contingency of IMSA Race Teams.

They were everywhere and then VIR showed up at our happenin’ pizza party. Did they want a slice? We’d surely be happy to share. Noooo. They told us we’d have to vacate our garage, as the IMSA Sport Cars folks needed them all.

This rst came as a directive. It was met with a solid wall of resistance.

I do my best, my very, very best to keep that ancient part of my brain, the amygdala, in check. When I went to get involved Shira, seeing my skin tone taking on a more and more eau de Nil shade, gave me the ‘stay out of this’ look.

Hulk know when Hulk will lose. I sat back and watched.

Shira went into defense mode and between her, Mark Byers, and some of the CLASS instructors The VIR-guy knew that to get us to vacate the garages, he’d have to change his tone and offer.

More and more IMSA trucks came rolling in and we now were beginning to feel a bit like Ukraine. In truth, we were done with the paddock garages anyway – but nobody likes to be bullied. We were not the easily pressured type.

In the end, they bought the paddock area back from us.

See, we can be reasonable.

We then all had pizza and watched the IMSA show roll in and it was VERY impressive. Porsche and BMW sports cars for the most part. All manned by young and energetic people who went about setting up and building a small tent city.

Serious hardware was being rolled out and it was quite the show.

And, I thought my Hot Wheels collection was the bomb.

The International Space Station came blazing overhead, right on schedule at 10:02 pm and with the ISS heading east, we all called it a night and headed to the arms of Morpheus and Dreamland. VIR to Backroads Central

We planned on a long haul this day, mostly on Eisenhower’s Interstates, but rst bikes had to be brought back to street specs – tires re-in ated to

proper street pressure (we ran nearly 10 lbs lighter on the track) and gear neatly and tightly stowed on the machines.

IMSA was having a breakfast banquet; a remarkable display of way too much $$$.

The triune part of me wanted one more ‘little win’ from VIR and IMSA. I had on a sharp-looking VIR polo shirt so I strolled into the paddock garage, now converted into a large breakfast buffet.

I could feel Shira rolling her eyes.

I headed, with a bit of authority, up to the barista and ordered a café Americana with a double shot of espresso. Turning to the various team crew members I remarked on the beautiful day and asked how everyone’s morning was going? I learned a long time ago if you are working a bunko, it is best to do it with conviction. You should see my friend Ron and me play high-ranking military of cers… it is remarkably effective and more than a little fun.

The coffee was most delicious.

Our friend Bill, who lives just miles from us in New Jersey, would join us on our ride home and we snapped the three machines into rst and began our long roll north. Along Route 29 I spied a Historic Sign for Hurricane Camille. On August 20, 1969, this beast ravaged the area with more than 25 inches of hard-driving winds and rain in just under ve hours. The entire region was decimated and over 125 souls were lost in Nelson County alone. The sign slowed me down and made me think of how good life really is and not to take anything for granted. The route north was a pleasant 70 or so degrees, but heading onto the interstates the mercury and humidity quickly rose and the gauge on the Z claimed triple digits temperature-wise. Still, we motored on north stopping only for fuel, food, and the occasional Butt Break! Just 20 miles out of New Jersey I caught a whiff of cool and moist. Several miles to the north I could see the rain and in a short time, we were riding through some serious thundershowers that would dog us the rest of the way home. And drop the temperature by nearly 25 degrees.

Mother Nature is a remarkably ckle gal.

So, under a ‘yellow ag’ of sorts, we ended this little soiree south to CLASS and parked the dripping machines in the barn with another few days of track time and another trip around the Sun under our belts.

CLASS is an awesome experience and if you ever have a chance to participate in this school or any such riding instruction, please do so. It will make your riding experience all the better for it and, honestly, it is just an absolute hoot. See you on the road! ,