Plot twist

I'm in Manchester, Georgia, not far from Franklin Delano Roosevelt's Little White House. It's 150 miles east of my daughter's house in Alabama, a nice ride most of the way and especially pretty toward the end. I'm staying with a friend who until now was just a virtual friend, a fellow member of the Ninja 250 internet forum. He's a motorcycle mechanic and I wanted to chance to get my little Ninja's condition checked out before I turned west for home.

We'll do some more checking tomorrow, but so far so good. However, I won't be turning west yet.

I didn't start this trip intending to go coast to coast, but that's how it's going to work out. There's a friend in Myrtle Beach, South Carolina who's fighting a tough medical problem and I want to go visit her and her husband. At 400 miles, it's not exactly next door, but it's do-able and I want to do it. No country roads tomorrow, except the ones that lead me to the nearest interstate. Time matters now.

I had a nice visit with my ex, who provided great hospitality, and I cherish the time I had with my daughter, the original goal of this big old trip. I'll find a way for us to get together more often.

After the Fact

I wrote the paragraphs above on Friday. This is Sunday. I wanted to talk a little about the drive to Georgia. After several miles of pleasant Alabama countryside I got on U.S. 280 southeast, the major artery in this area. It was prettier than an urban setting, but not particularly nice compared to the smaller country roads. At Camp Hill I finally got onto one of those country roads, headed toward Lanett on the Georgia border. Along the way I passed a modest church with a modest graveyard across the road.

As a long-time Californian, one of the things that surprised me about eastern states is how frequently small graveyards appear. I grew up thinking that people had to be shuttled off to one of those huge cemeteries when they died.

In Lanett there was an enormous complex of brick buildings, a few blocks long, that seemed to be undergoing long, slow destruction. A server at a local cafe told me that it had been a cotton mill. I kept thinking that all that used brick must be worth quite a bit on its own.

After Lanett I headed up into the more mountainous region around Franklin Delano Roosevelt's "Little White House" near Warm Springs. In Alabama and Georgia it's rare to get a long view of the landscape, but up on the summit ridge of that mountain there were a few.

I was conflicted about that road. It was so beautiful up there, with the tall pines and the broadleaf understory, but the road was also alluring, with constant curves, dips, and rises. There had not been much in the way of twisty roads since way back in the Big Bend. I elected to ride instead of gawk and I was quickly in Manchester.

My host was a fellow member of the Ninja 250 owners group on the internet, www.ninja250.org. I had never met Bryan in person. His house was immaculate and attractive - he and his wife had spent many months refurbishing the just-purchase, classic brick house. I was also treated to excellent homebrew beer and handmade pizza. Quite a contrast from the accommodations and cuisine that I often experienced on the road. Thanks very much, Bryan.