Day 68

Maggie Valley and Wheels through Time

The helmet of 'Jacob' at the Wheels Through Time Motorcycle Museum, Maggie Valley, North Carolina, USA
The helmet of 'Jacob' at the Wheels Through Time Motorcycle Museum, Maggie Valley, North Carolina, USA

Mountaineer Inn to Wine Spring Horse Camp


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Day 68 - Maggie Valley and the Wheels through Time. My clothes had dried and the rain eased overnight. I soaked the water from my bags and called to the housekeeper. He responded in a heavy North Carolina accent like someone like Ricky Bobby in Talladega Nights. I headed back to the Parkway Drive and experienced what it was like on a clear (-ish) day. It was nice. The curved tunnels, lookouts and no traffic lights making it a pleasant ride. Until the clouds came and covered the road in a fine wet mist. I stopped to take a picture and found a fluro man standing in the middle of the car park mist. I rode up to him, “what the hell are you doing here?!”, I said, “I don’t know, I’m ready to get off this hill. Hey, you’re the guy at the motel!”. He was looking for a room last night as I checked in. We must’ve been the only two riders stupid enough to be on the road. I continued to the Wheels through Time as Dick from Lebanon Cycles told me. I was not disappointed. It’s the best historic motorcycle museum I’ve ever been to and likely the best all American in the world. Exceptionally run and laid out with lots of legitimate, rare and documented history. Special thanks goes to Andy “I’m a bloody volunteer!” from England who personally walked me around to help understand and appreciate what was there; one of a kind prototypes, hillclimbers, flat tracks, drag bikes even Evel Knievels jump bike. There was an adventure bike that did 11,000 miles in 2 weeks. The breadth of motorcycling is great and over 100 years. Their aim to educate younger generations of the origins of motorcycling was a success. I said goodbye and reached the campground in darkness. The cold, wet and slippery mountain road empty. I thought of how much I love scary mountain roads. The wind blew trees over my path as I climbed the hairpins higher. I reached camp and eased past the locked gate only to fall on a slippery log. I was all alone. I laughed as my bike slept. I recalled a passage “When men were men” in the museum. That ain’t me 😂

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