Hero
I rode my VFR to The Dragon and back on Friday. Round trip, door to door 525 miles and 11.5 hours. For motor enthusiasts worldwide the Dragon is a place of legend. 318 turns in an 11 mile stretch of asphalt that has no houses or side roads to distract from the task at hand. I feel fortunate to have a little history with this place.
I first heard about The Dragon in the middle ‘80s. Someone was wearing a T Shirt with the inscription “I survived Deal’s Gap 318 Turns in 11 Miles”.
WTF ? Where is this place ? I want to try it out !
One Sunday after encountering that shirt I drove my CRX from Chattanooga,TN to where I thought the Dragon was located. In typical male fashion I asked not ( for directions) and found not ( The Dragon ). Later after retreating empty handed, I learned that I was only a few miles from the lookout that marks the north end.
Time passed . I moved from Chattanooga to Charleston. Then on to Ft Lauderdale and finally Charlotte. In 2000 I finally found myself ripping through all those turns for the first time in my Celica GTS. Aside from a Harley rider I talked to on the North end ( The Lookout ), the Dragon was empty. I would come to learn that having this place to oneself is a rare treat.
I rode ( Dragoned ?) my Honda 500 Interceptor round trip sometime in October of 2001. The ride started at dawn ( in the cold ) and ended at dusk. The store parking lot where everyone congregates on the south end was packed. This store is home to the “Tree of Shame” where unlucky riders and drivers have bits and pieces of parts or gear ( from accidents on the dragon ) nailed to it. So far earning a place on the tree has eluded me. My personal gear on this trip reflected my evolving attitude towards PPE and the necessary funding to obtain it.My feet were shod with leather work boots. Soon I would own proper motorcycle boots. No more Penny loafers sans socks.
My next round trip pilgrimage was aboard my Suzuki SV650S. On this particular cloudy Saturday traffic on the Dragon was light and I was able to ride the entire length aggressively. If I recall, Mother Nature served up a brutal thunder storm the last hour of the return ride home. Later I felt lucky to be in my garage soaked, mulling over the day’s fortunes and my sore back side.
Planning a day trip can be fun. You pull out the map or maps, think about optimizing a route that minimizes traffic and maximizes fun on twisty roads. Look at distance, fuel tank capacity and gas stops. This could be a WW2 foray into Germany with Mustangs flying bomber cover....but it’s not. Ideally I want to ride the Dragon with a half empty tank of gas and fill up on the way home. My VFR has good range, over 250 miles in most cases. The final route I choose takes me out on back roads including Hwy 28 ( The Moonshiner ) and back on Hwy 74 and Interstate 40 .
My trip started Friday at 0545. Garage door up, VFR rolled out and started. I’d already checked the air pressure, brake light, turn signals...all the normal preflight stuff. Thursday night’s internet showed the makings of a good day (Friday) with moderate chance of rain in the afternoon.
The first 15 minutes of most rides I take require me to shake the cobwebs out of my brain and make sure that the interaction between me,the bike, and the surroundings are crisp. On some rides that confident feeling is instantaneous and on others it takes time. Weather was ideal, a bit chilly for the first 2 hours as I rode across Hwy 11 in SC , twisty 178 back into NC , and then Hwy NC64 into Highlands and Franklin. Moonshiner 28 starts outside Franklin and its freshly paved asphalt was a delight. Even with the occasional slower vehicle that had to be dispatched, the ride was fun. When everything comes together you’ll notice that idiotic involuntary grin or an occasional whoop to punctuate an especially tasty sequence of twists.
“I just came from the Dragon and saw Tennessee Troopers bust 10 bikes at one time !” This revelation fresh out the mouth of a Honda ST rider I talked to at Fontana Dam. I’d occasionally heard stories about crack downs on the Tennessee side but, never had any personal dealings.
NC Hwy 28 Intersects Hwy 129 at the store where all the motorcycles and cars congregate. At that moment of my arrival the small section of 129 that climbs past the store to the Tennessee state line was empty. I turned onto that road, nailed the gas and accelerated vigorously up the hill in front of the parked masses making glorious V4 music. It was my 5 seconds of fame. I was keenly aware that this display of bravado would be short lived. Upon crossing into the volunteer state I was greeted with 3 sights.
1) A parked TN State Trooper Tahoe ( Blue Lights Flashing )
2) A freshly apprehended sport bike rider ( Repsol Leathers ) with a BMW GS TN trooper behind him ( Blue Lights Flashing )
3) A speed limit sign. Posted speed 30 mph.
Welcome to the Thunder dome.
The last time I remember looking at the posted speed limit it was years ago and 55 mph. I’d always laugh because aside from a few short straight sections anyone would be hard pressed to exceed 40 mph in the overabundance of hairpin turns that make up the bulk of the Dragon. My ride from south to north was a low speed procession . I was behind 4 cruisers, a Triumph Speed Triple and a Grom. The police were seemingly everywhere. Damn. The return North to South was little better. Once again I was stuck behind 3 cruisers but, at least they were being ridden in (for them ) a spirited fashion.
Dragon Photographers took a bad-ass picture of me doing a one handed dab. Not hard to do when you are probably going less than 30mph and mainly concerned about not hitting slow moving traffic in front of you.
I took 28 back to 64. Fueled up outside Bryson City. Drank some gator-ade and gobbled down a sandwich during that stop then proceeded to smoothly and rapidly slab it back home. The first part of the trip was mainly 2 lane twistys. The last part divided 4 lane highway and interstate where the main challenge was not conspicuously speeding. Like Harrison Ford’s quip about “flying casually” to Chewbaca in Star Wars, the VFR maintains a vigorous pace with little perceived effort. If you aren’t diligent, triple digit speeds appear all too easily. Descending Black Mountain eastbound on I40 felt like dropping into Dante’s inferno. Soon enough I was back in my zip code. As I rolled the hot VFR into the cool garage I thought about the day’s excellent ride. Tennessee’s highway gestapo excepted, it had been exceptional. My bum didn’t even feel too bad. Thanks Sargent ! Thanks VFR.
Many motor enthusiasts feel compelled to make a pilgrimage to the Dragon. Might I suggest planning a trip in the middle of the week? You don’t have to do a 500+ mile round trip like I did. Stay closer by and enjoy some local hospitality. Ride safe.