Today, I decided to find out how to do something besides get to the end of Newfound Rd and just turn around. I'm still breaking in the new engine and don't want to get on the freeway, you see. So, I spend a little map time with my ever-present magnifying glass.
Newfound is lazy and pretty. There's a part where a farm often has pygmy goats and llamas grazing. I enjoy looking at them. It rises and falls in and out of the farm land and pastures. The end gets super curvy when it goes over a big hill. However, this time of year the county sprays some kind of brine stuff on the higher roads and it turns to talcum powder when it dries. Scary stuff that must be avoided at all costs.
At the end I find Beaverdam Rd. It's more of the same. I never get tired of tiny churches up on a hill with old grave stones planted nearby, ancient grey barns and sheds that don't even have a memory of paint anymore, and tiny little houses like the one I pass made of stone. Hard to imagine someone actually lives there- it's no bigger than a studio apartment.
The road starts up into a mountain, and I see the sky is a sort of dark calico of slate, white clouds, a little blue, and patches of bright sun that make areas of the tan fields glow. The narrow road begins to get tighter as I keep going up and it's hard to lok through the grey trees that remind me of skeletons with arms outretched. Alongside some of the hills, the anfgle of the sun is low so the moisture never evaporates. In higher elevations there is still snow in areas like that. At one point, my tire that would have been state-of-the-art sometime in the beginning of the last century slowly slides about 12 inches at a tangent to where I'm looking! I hate that. I'm lucky there's no other traffic while I panic a little and I roll into the on-coming lane. The tire gets to dry ground as I push the bars a little more and come back, but it takes a while for my breathing to become normal again.
At the top, I see a scary sight that reminds me of a certain street in San Francisco that is so steep it's almost breath-taking. There's no traffic, so I stop and take stock of all this. Through the trees I can see the hills below with patches of sunlight here and there. But for the punk-punk-punk of my single cylinder going, it's deathly silent up here.
The road looks like crap- unusual for North Carolina. I wish I had trials tires; there are small rocks, some bits of red clay strewn around, and I can see one spot farther down that loks like the road buckled because of the cold at some point.
I start down and shift into 2nd, thinking I'll take it slow... (Famous last words) These back and forth turns are consistantly tight and I'm afraid of a miss-step. I've had the front wheel disappear on me before, and I have to remind myself this is not the time to use the front brake. I shift back down to first and keep my foot on the rear brake. I feel like I'm trying to thread a needle with a motorcycle. I'd sort of like to take in some of the spectacular scenery, but I don't dare distract myself from scanning up and back- looking for the line (if you can call it that) before I need to make a last-second change.
Finally at the bottom, things get back to rolling and easy side-to-side riding. The old, relaxed dance again. I can look at the scenery a little now. How different it all is when the fields are block by green leaves. I come up to a sign with an aroow and Big Sandy Mush is one of my options. I've been that way before and I'm thinking of a cheese sammich at home.
The new Enfield is finally loosening up and wants to go a little faster. I put superbike bars on which helped the overall ergos a lot. I like the way it pulls along in first gear real slow. I can see why people like to use them for trials riding. I like the way it emits a low crackle when I'm decelerating down a long hill. It's nice and light. I'm liking it.
