We bid a teary farewell to the motel in Boone this morning (the drainwas still draining as we left I am sure), had coffee at the local McWiFi's and dumped the blog. We turned south toward Blowing Rock up over the hill. Dave disappeared after dinner last night, saying he was going to stop at Walgreens and I was just about to go find him when he pulled in. He got nabbed in the parking lot by a guy from Blowing Rock with 5 BMW motorcycles who had traveled all the country over and back and talked Dave's ear off. Blowing Rock sounded interesting so that's the direction we headed.

I think the most interesting thing about traveling like this is just looking in peoples back yards, looking at kind of business' there are, and the signs. The combo signs are the best. “Colon Cleansing Treatment and Small Engine Repair”. “Bike Rentals, Teeth Whitening, Pawn Shop and Alterations” (not sure what they were altering), “Let God Show You the Way, Financing Available” at a used car dealer. Every church has a thought for the week like “You Are closer Than You Think” and “No Jesus No Peace, Know Jesus Know Peace” (which did strike a chord with me). Dave shot some video on his handlebar mounted video camera near Grandfather's Mountain which I gotta see if I can add to the blog sometime.

So we once again got back on the Parkway south and then it started. The official “Rain Gear Test Day”. It rained constantly starting around 11 and ended around 3. We both left the Frogg Toggs in the saddlebags and decided to test the zoot suits, which were supposed to let you “ride all day in the rain and not get wet”. So Dave had some visibility issues between his windshield, visor and glasses. I could see ok, mostly because I didn't have the glasses thing going on. I look over the top of my windshield so that is not an issue. My visor beads up rain on the outside and drips on the inside, but the most interesting parts is the little waterfall coming of the top of the faceshield opening. It's like looking out from behind a waterfall. Almost all the water goes outside the helmet but tonight my helmet is pretty wet inside. My non-waterproof gloves were wrung out a few times (still gotta find a bike shop and buy waterproof gloves (or steal newspaper bags). My gloves are perched on top of the light bulbs in the Motel tonight drying out nicely (dad would be proud). It was pouring and getting foggier as well so we turned off the Parkway down a VERY crooked road (Rt 80).

Rt 80 dumped us onto Rt 70 which we took into Asheville and stopped for coffee dripping wet. I got directions to the motorcycle museum which is actually a bit beyond Asheville in a little town called Maggie Valley. Somewhere in here the rain let up. The zoot suits did ok but we still got a little damp along some of the seams. At several points I was standing up to let a small pond of water collecting between my legs to drain, so they were really put to the test. Next time we put on the Frogg Toggs (I know these work).

When we pulled into the museum the parking lot was filled with Harley's. Our two German bikes stuck out like tofu at a barbecue but everybody was very nice.

This museum is fantastic for gearheads. The owner started collecting and restoring motorcycles when he was 15 and is now maybe 50. He specializes in American vintage motorcycles. He must have 350 motorcycles here ranging in age from 1912ish to the 60's. Oh yeah, they all run! I have always loved old pictures of vintage bikes, mostly because the people in those old pictures look like they are going on a big adventure, suddenly mobile for the first time. Dale picked up on the fact that we had ridden all the way down from Vermont and immediately starting leading us around and starting some of the oldest bikes he had, after I told him my interest in real old bikes. I guess what I loved about this place and Dale was that here was a guy, passionate about something, that made it his life work, and was still really fired up about it and obviously got immense joy from this hobby / business. We closed his place down and as we walked out we overheard him talking about buying or selling some old bike on the phone. He gets his bikes from all over the country. This guy loves his work.

We headed out and the rain had stopped. We found a motel a little ways down the street from the museum and got supper in a country cooking kind of place. I think like yesterday we are pretty beat from the endless twisty roads. This morning I was thinking maybe it would be nice to head to somewhere where there are big open rolling hills with farms so I can look at the scenery again instead of the gravel in the next switchback