North Georgia

Springtime in North Georgia sees many motorcycle riders, up on 400, weaving in between trailers and motor homes as the bright southern sun breaks through the clouds. It’s the first time most have had their bikes out in months, and they can’t wait to get out there, much to the chagrin of the local police, who now have instituted a zero tolerance policy regarding motorcycles. If you go even one mile above the speed limit you will get pulled over and likely go to jail until the judge can make time for you to make you do time, and he better not be able to see your tattoos when he does.

I have no plans to go fast here or anywhere, and I am still dreaming some Harley dreams even though I am today bouncing along on a dual sport machine, my first. With its high fenders and knobby tires, sporty lines crossing its navy blue chassis, I feel like a 14 year old boy. Even though I have been riding for a few months now, I only just got the concept of rolling off the throttle. You don’t just open it, you close it too. roll on the throttle, roll off it. go, don’t go. It’s like that. this is the missing link that had me lurching long into my advanced beginner status. Maybe I am intermediate now, that I have figured this out.

It’s blazing hot outside but that won’t last long. This heat is a temporary fix, burning the water off the roads in steamy lines. I couldn’t tell you where I found the faith to ride in the unpredictable chaos of early March here. The seasons fight for dominance as they change, one unable to let go, the other coming on too soon for comfort. I understand the need for churches and houses of worship that sit astride each other in neat rows, as people here go to god for help with the weather. Is there a tornado coming? God only knows.

I am riding now in a new state, yet another life that is a repeat of an old one. I come home to Georgia as I come home to California as I come home to London as I come home to everywhere I have been every night. To me motorcycling makes sense because I want to stay in motion, all my things with me, cleverly stored and concealed, packed up and moveable, going strong.

8 Comments. Add To The Mix…

  1. It is much the same for your non-motorized compatriots in Atlanta. I’m one who can’t abide the cold, so I store my bike away for the winter. I’m looking forward to hitting the trails next week, hopefully, if the weather holds – but as you say, God only knows.

    And as one who commutes on 400 to work (fucking Alpharetta cops, anyway), I can honestly say I have no idea what one must do to accomplish getting pulled over. People drive upwards of 90 every day to no seeming ill effect. Then again, they’re aren’t on motorcycles.

    But the police, oh THEY are. Fuckers.

  2. Where is this “blazing hot” weather of which you speak?? Daily high is 50s and 60s here in north GA right now. And please stop appropriating Southern culture. Please.

  3. The route up through Blairsville to Vogel State Park is really nice, but you may want to use a bike other than a Harley. They get rather testy about the noise level and may ticket you.

    There’s a great rest stop near the Blood Mountain hiking trails, and a good restaurant called Annes(?) By The River further past Vogel. Enjoy!

  4. Oh for the love of _________! Descriptions of motorcycle rides makes me tingle and want….. To ride baby! I like riding in short sleeves and converse, feeling the wind and the sun all over me. I spit on danger, unless I’m riding out of town then I gear up. Live to ride another day Cho!

  5. You are my idol in every way. I am so itching to get a bike right now that I can’t stand it.

Leave a Reply