After last year’s trip to Montana, for GWRRA’s Wing Ding, and having a super time riding around and meeting new friends, my Lesley and I planned for this year’s Wing Ding in Greenville, South Carolina. I contacted my previously used travel agent, David Grist of H-C Travel, and detailed my needs—to fly one GL1800 Gold Wing into Toronto, and to arrange for a return trip with a Bushtec Quantum trailer to bring home. Oh, by the way, “home” is London, England, hence the need to fly a Wing in a plane. David contacted the office of Motorcycle Express in New York state, and got Gail Goodman to fix the insurance and freighting details from “over there.” I had found out from previous excursions to North America that it is easier for me to travel into Canada; there’s less bureaucracy in the Customs departments than entering in the U.S.A. I also contacted my good friends in GWRRA in Toronto, Geayt & Kim Spiteri, who offered help in retrieving my Wing from the freighter’s shed and accommodated us before we set off on our trip to Greenville. Good friends, as GWRRA Members are known to be, universally. With help from other Toronto Wingers, a route was looked over to get us initially into the U.S.A., then on to Lexington, Tennessee, where I had promised to look up Jim Creasy’s staff who had helped me to get the 1800 last December. But that’s another story.
We rode south in light rain, to cross over into U.S.A. at Windsor Bridge in hot steamy weather. Time to take off the Frogg Toggs—even they were getting too warm by now. After causing some confusion at U.S. Customs with my “funny” number plate and having to buy a visa, we progressed for a few miles, only to get into a five-mile jam of traffic on the I-75. A minor accident was the cause. As is usual here in UK, I did not want to sit in a hot traffic jam, so rode down the space between the cars and trucks, listening to the CB which was telling all listeners what the extent of the problem and jam was. Then I heard the truckers complaining as I was going past them. Seems they don’t like it; indeed, even cars don’t like it, as I found out when one SUV closed the gap for a few minutes. Still, when he moved off, there was another gap to explore. Now, I know most Americans frown upon lane splitting, but why sit in a hot traffic jam, when plenty of space permits ease of clearance? Provided the speed is real slow, and drivers’ mirrors can be looked into (the driver can then see you, too), and taking no inappropriate chances, progress for all is maintained. Even the trucks benefit, for you are taking up less road space. That’s my theory anyway.
Ed Note: The author has been advised that lane splitting is not legal in New York State.
After clearing the jam, we found it time for a night stop, enjoying the comfort of air/con in a hotel. Time for replenishment of the inner man (and woman). Now becoming accustomed to the eateries, and the similar fare on offer: you know, ribs, N.Y. steak, burger, T-bone, fish (provided it’s catfish), fries, salad, dressings (why so many for catfish?) and drinks, well, what a nightmare—a few fizzy ones (not advertising here) or beers which come light or something else. I kept off the ice cream and pies, so will probably get lost when navigating U.S.A. (since runs seem to go from ice cream parlour to ice cream parlour), but, still, there was plenty of everything and it was all very eatable.
Over the next few days, we got down to Lexington via some country roads, which were very pleasant to ride on, seeing the real America. Only thing was, it kept on raining in bursts of 30 minutes in every hour. Waterproofs on, waterproofs off. Got fed up with that practice, so the Frogg Toggs stayed on longer than we would have wished.
Found the quaint American way of directing traffic away from road construction. Dig a hole across the whole road, put up a diversion sign, then leave the stranger to find another route without the benefit of telling them where the place is that they were formerly heading for. Still, as I said, the country roads were pleasant.
Got to meet up with Beverly, Gerry and Cleowis at Creasy’s shop. They had arranged for a hotel nearby where we stayed for a couple of nights while some little extras were fitted to my 1800! Had a nice drive around in a loaned car then, enjoying more of the locality, where I normally would not have ridden a road bike.
We then departed for Jacksboro, where you all know John Preston manufactures Bushtec trailers. I checked on progress on the new Quantum model, one of which I had ordered to take home with me. It not being quite ready, John kindly loaned me another from stock, fitted the hitch, and sent me on my way to meet up again at Greenville later.
Andrew Preston gave us a route for the Smokey Mountains and Deals Gap, plus another for the Blue Ridge Parkway. I missed the Deals Gap turn off, so we continued to a place called Cosby, in the Cherokee Reservation area. Interesting little place. We invaded the local beer hall, causing the locals some curiosity, asking for where the nearest motel might be. After going through the interpretation process, we got to the motel, under the lee of the Smokey Mountains. Idyllic. Until we got up next morning, to find, yes, more torrential rain. Press on, we agreed, to the Blue Ridge, only to find when we got to the top there was nothing to see but mist. Now, when I want to see mist, I usually go to Scotland, for that’s a very different mist.
I digress. Down the mountain, to find sunshine and warmth, even from a couple of Harley riders, who could not recognize the flags of UK I was flying, but wondered about the number plate, which they thought was, well, different. Had to fill up with gas here, and noted the price was a few cents more a gallon than the last fill up. But, mustn’t complain, it is still less than a quarter of the UK price. You didn’t know you were so well off, did you?
After enduring seven days of rainy rides, we had had enough, so decided a run to the coast was called for, hoping for better weather. We got to Southport, checked into a motel right on the beach with a fresh fish restaurant next door, and the temp was now showing 93 on the 1800 gauge. That’s very hot for where I come from.
The next day saw us taking a leisurely ride down to Myrtle Beach, staying as close to the sea as possible. This is what Wing riding is for, seeing the multitude of sights and scenery that is best seen from two wheels with comfort. Our next stop was at a hotel which was almost a disaster. Certainly the worst of the whole trip. The Holiday Inn Express at Isle of Palms had rooms, but what sort of rooms? The first offered was like a dungeon, no window to natural light; the second had air/con in pieces; the third was very expensive, but what the heck, we’re on holiday! The sea could be seen from the balcony, if you stretched your neck out far enough! The champagne cork on the floor and two dead lamp bulbs must have been an oversight. I suppose the soiled chair cushion was yet to be attended to, but I didn’t think I needed it anyway. After abandoning the evening meal on the outside verandah to the more hungry skeeters, we retreated to the room, thinking sleep was in order. No way, the musician (amateur) next door, in the garden of the bar had not finished at 10 as expected, but continued ’til 10:30. Now for sleep.
“What the dickens (old English cuss word) is that?” I exclaimed. A roach about two feet long ran up the wall. I made quick work of dispatching him—the old military training comes in useful still. A search of the room revealed no more, so into bed, to sleep wondering if one was crawling over the bed. Not a nice stay; don’t forget where it was, and it is expensive.
Thankfully the next stop was 300 percent better, in a hotel at Hilton Head, Westin group, well worth the stop. And no rain.
Now we were heading back towards Greenville via Savanah, Augusta, and a lovely log cabin in Table Rock under the Laurel Mountain. More amazing views along the way, avoiding the deer and coons that have no road sense, speaking to folks who have never been outside their own county, let alone ventured to another state.
On July second, we arrived tired and hot at the Greenville Hilton. That was great. Lucky we had pre-booked, for people were trying to check in at that late time, at full price. Having settled in, we adjourned to the patio area for a cooling drink. As may be expected, there were many Wingers already in attendance. We had conversations with quite a few, but the real surprises were to find two couples living in U.S.A. who originated from close to where I live today. Ron & Pat Chapman came from London as a teacher and nurse and are now settled in Michigan; Paul Hatfield came from just down the road and reckons he remembers me from my fire fighting days. Perhaps! He now has a lovely wife, Di, from South Carolina. We really got on like a house on fire (I can say that) spending many a minute over dinner. Good restaurant at the Hilton.
Now we got into the Wing Ding party mood. Found ourselves greeting friends from around the world. There was Josh from Belgium, Bob from Oz, eight others from UK, and many from last year’s gatherings we invaded, plus some who had been to look us up in London in past days. It suddenly makes the world seem a very small place, meeting so many people who are all friends from GWRRA. All the events we attended were well worth the time, and so was the time spent meeting individuals on the GWRRA staff, who hitherto had only been known from pages in Wing World. Mike Wright and Frank Rasbury, with their wives, were very helpful by letting me know how to go about getting the UK Chapter off the ground, which we have done. Likewise, Pete Woodruff and Nick Hoppner were forthcoming with advice and interest in what we do over here.
Several miles of shopping cost a few pennies, but that’s one of the pleasures (?) of Wing Ding, and progress on the route was always delayed by the hugging greeting displays when finding someone you know, even some you don’t know! One lady was very demonstrative towards me, and I hadn’t got the heart to tell her I was not the husband who had just walked away from the GWRRA regalia stand. She had quite a hug and delightful perfume! Didn’t get her name, but perhaps she’ll be there next year.
After the final curtain was being drawn over the closing ceremony, it was with some regret that we had to say our goodbyes, but as ever, with the desire to meet again. We hope so. Now it was time to complete our vacation, so back on the road again, up into North Carolina, but not without problems. I did a quick stop for photos when the sun was at its zenith, then found a non-operative speedo when riding away. It seems sunshine damages the metal parts of the 1800 speedo, requiring a replacement.
Next day was horrendous, with four hours of thunder and lightning, and accompanying heavy rain. Back to a road that heads east and to the coast. So we found ourselves on the Outer Banks. What a lovely place that is, so very, well, so English (with a little imagination). Now we could dry out our gloves and boots as well as see some superb seascapes. This is a place to idle, which we managed to do, spending two nights on the ride north.
Here is where another 1800 fault showed itself. The sidestand safety switch failed in the non-safe position. Now I must remember to hook up the stand before riding away every time, or else! We rode into Elizabeth City, after looking up the address of a Honda dealer in the Gold Book, only to find the dealer was shut on Mondays. On to Roanoke Rapids, where the next dealer was also shut on Mondays. Too late to go on, so stopped in town, and tried a Texas Steakhouse for the first time. Not at all bad, and popular, too. Next day found me talking to Richard Shoe, the local bike shop owner, who just couldn’t figure out how I knew about him. My Lesley had spoken to another diner the previous evening, and they found out we had something in common, so informing us of Richard. He could only check the Wing over, and, finding no obvious answer to the speedo and sidestand problems, got onto Honda to make arrangements for the pieces to be checked out or swapped over at Honda Knoxville in two day’s time. This gave us time to find the top of the Blue Ridge again. We did it, and spent two days going south, nearly running out of gas. Red light on for 20 miles, got 259.7 miles on that tankful. Close call. Now “accidentally” found Deals Gap as well, much to Lesley’s concern. She hates twisty roads and deep gullies. Still, it was a piece of cake (another old English expression); the 1800 handled it with no trouble even pulling a Bushtec trailer.
We were into the Honda shop at Knoxville first thing and found a most impressive workshop layout. The floor and benches were spotless. Quite a sight, believe me, and I have seen some workshops over the past 40 odd years of motorcycling that would not look out of place in the nineteenth century. After spending some time (but no money) admiring the Harley shop merchandise (Harley Christmas decorations!), the Wing was ready to go after a five-hour speedo swap. The unfortunate thing was, after going 15 miles, I found the sidestand switch was not funcioning again. So, back to Knoxville where the mechanics checked it out and found an electrical fault somewhere else in the wiring loom. Couldn’t wait another five hours, so we pressed on to Jacksboro to collect the new trailer. (Time is getting tight and it’s Friday the 13th!)
Next day, into Bushtec’s for the unveiling of the very first production Quantum GL trailer in Illusion Red, with 1800-style tailights. In the sunshine, the outfit looked wonderful. The guys all came out to have a look-see, and thanks to John, Andrew and Jason, we were away by midday with the most luxurious motorcycle trailer ever created.
Now I started to feel pleased that all the trials and tribulations of this year’s trip to Wing Ding had really been worthwhile, having accomplished what I set out to do—enjoy the trip and come away with lasting memories. All we had to do now was get to Toronto in two and a half days, so the bike and trailer could be freighted to UK.
We accomplished the task with no real difficulty, thanks once more to Geayt & Kim. The other Wingers in Toronto came round to admire the trailer and see what I had added to the 1800. They were suitably impressed. Nearly time to finish.
Next day, we waved bye-bye to our transport of the past four weeks, and enjoyed a social evening with our hosts, who have told us we have to get over next year for Americade and Wing Ding! Six weeks are already marked off the calendar. Some delays with our plane meant we were just a little late in getting home, and so we found the bike had been delayed too. It was of no consequence. Round to the freight shed, to see the Wing still secured to the special pallet that Motorcycle Express has designed for flying bikes, and watched it being unsecured. All I had to do now was check the bike and trailer over, connect up the battery and go to the nearest gas station. Now the shock. How much? I’m only filling a motorcycle, not a Cadillac! Back to the real world, which is where I live with my best-est buddy, Lesley, here in SE London.
Thanks for allowing us the good fortune to be able to enjoy life American-style, even if it is only for a vacation and the Gold Wing Road Riders Association’s annual get-together. See you next year.
Peter Russell is Chapter Director of the first UK Chapter, EN-A.
