Indian Hills AL August 2007

Sean’s Story

After much cajoling from my brother Brendan, he finally convinced me I needed to go on a motorcycle ride with him. Now I must admit I was apprehensive about the whole thing. Now don’t get me wrong, I have no issues riding dirt bikes, trees don’t jump out in front of you and rocks don’t cut you off. Yes, you can get seriously hurt because of a surprise turn, soft dirt, or a rock you weren’t paying attention to. With a dirt bike if there is an issue its primarily because you were an idiot, with road bikes its 20% idiot – 80% other vehicles etc. Not what I would call great odds. For those of you with a similar opinion read on, this ride really change my perspective on road bikes.

I left the house after work on Friday to meet up with Brendan at his place in Wilsonville, about an hour out of Birmingham. As I was a guest on this trip and did not have a bike of my own, we headed off to a friend of his, a chap by the name of Jeff. Jeff had graciously allowed Brendan to borrow his bike, a Suzuki 850, and I would ride Brendan’s bike, a Honda 650. I must have really wanted to satisfy my fears as Brendan lives approx 2.5 hrs away and Jeff an hour from Brendan’s place. So in all just to get things ready to ride the next day involved 4.5 hrs of driving. Anyway,

Bren and I loaded the bikes with our gear and headed out the next morning about 9:00am for Indian Hills in Rockford Al. Not a long ride, about 2hrs, just enough to get my feet wet. We took the short route as we were supposed to meet my father Ken, brother Garrett, Kelsey Khale and Ray Upton. The ride was a good mix of back roads and some Interstate. It really gave me a taste of the different road surfaces and speeds on a smaller scale. Riding a road bike was like nothing I had expected. Just let me say that there is no way that I can truly convey what the experience was like. It would be like a woman trying to get a man to understand the full experience of child birth. As a man no matter how hard we try, we will never truly appreciate the experience. All I can do is tell you what I felt.

The day had not gotten really hot and humid yet, so the ride was almost cool. As you went down the road, I was surprised to discover just how much the air temperature changes. It was just like swimming in the lake, pockets of cold and hot. The degree of temperature change between these pockets was astounding. As the day wore on the pockets went from comfortable to literally a hot steamy sauna. Each pocket only lasts a few seconds but they occur frequently. In a car, driving down the Interstate, it very easy for your speed to fluctuate 5 miles an hout eoither side of you target speed if you are not paying attention and have no cruise control. On a bike? Man… once you reach 60 mph each mile an hour faster is a significant increase in air pressure on your body. The difference between 60 mph and 75 mph was amazing. It’s like riding a bicycle and feeling the wind in your face and sticking your head out the window of a car at 50 mph. And I even had a windshield on the bike.

The other thing that surprised me was the aromas. It was like walking thru a candle shop, one minute you are bombarded with honeysuckle, the next dead animal, then fresh cut grass, followed by wild flowers. All of a sudden the air gets cool and has almost a minty ice smell (to me anyway), its about to get a little wet. Brendan had told me that it is very easy to tell when you need to stop and put rain gear on vas opposed to getting just a small shower. With a small shower you just ride through, because by the time you put your gear on, ride the two miles through the shower, it’s over and you are now hot. It’s easier to get a little damp/wet, natures air dryer will dry you off shortly.

He was right, an impending heavy rain feels warm, moist and heavy as you approach it, a light shower (I know this will sound weird) feels cool, crisp, and dry. As I said earlier there is no way to convey to just how much your senses will get hammered. Maybe this is a newbie thing, but you know how in a car if you have been driving for a long time or are just tired sometimes you have to really occupy yourself, stop and run around the car, play the slap your face game to keep yourself awake as you push on to your destination. No need on a bike, the constant buffeting of the wind, temperature changes, and aromas will keep a dead man awake. Talk about sensory stimulii.

Ok, on with the trip. Brendan and I had made it to Interstate 65 and were trucking down the road about 75 mph, needless to say I was a bit nervous. Here I am competing for space with cars, SUVs and big rigs. Brendan had said that we would ride staggered in the lane and not directly behind him. This would create more “personal” space and garner more respect for that space from other motorists. Well, blow me down, once I settled down, at no time did I feel threatened by the other vehicles. We turned off Interstate 65 onto Hwy 24 short ride to Hwy 31 and then onto Hwy 22. Highway 22 took us across Jordan Lake, through Schley, Kellys Crossroads, Rockford, Hissop, Cottage Grove, and finally our destination, Indian Hills Motorcycle “Resort”.

We arrived about 11:50am, and found Ray already there. Ray had just purchased a new Harley Davidson. So of course Brendan and I were all eyes. The rest of the crew, Ken, Garrett, and Kelsey arrived 15 min. later. Brendan and I, knowing when they they left Conyers, GA. expected them to be way ahead of us with the time change and all. Apparently there was some sight seeing along the way. We all said our hello’s and looked around bit, went inside to register and get our camping spots.

Hind sight being 20/20, we were presented with our first clue. The largest building on campground was the bar. The “resort” was owned by couple and their daughter and son in-law. The lady that took our information was the mother, a nice happy go lucky person. Her daughter was waiting tables and took our order for around of drinks, soda’s as we would be riding later. She was chatty and friendly and made us welcome. We understand that it was the dad’s birthday that night… big party starts at 8:00pm don’t be late.

We head back out into the oppressive heat to setup camp. The temp was hovering around 100 F with a high humidity level bringing up the heat index to around 105 – 110. Just standing there talking in the sun you start to drip sweat from you cheeks and finger tips. Ken and Garrett each had very small one person tents. I had my 2 person Explorer for Brendan and me. As Ken calls them, Ray and Kelsey have McMansions. Their tents are 4 person domes. Benefits, plenty of room, downside you have been riding all day to a destination its late and raining and you have a big tent to setup by yourself. Brendan and Ken have these great little tents. They have been designed in such a way that you unfold the tent, climb inside and place your flex poles, done. So if it is raining, you stay dry while you setup your tent, magic.

We finish unpacking the bikes, getting everything set for a relaxing evening when we get back. Huh, in our dreams. It is about 2:30pm; we crank the bikes and head off to Jordan Lake. As I learn none of the five bikes have gas gauges, apparently this is typical. Everyone knows their bike needs to be refueled after x number of miles. In our case four of the five need fuel every 100 miles. So we stop at a Shell station for fuel and reset the mileage counters. Kelsey mentions while fueling that he likes the soft cushy air mattress in the Ray McMansion and he would like one. Lucky for us we run into a fellow rider at the station and he suggests taking a route that has lots of twists and turns and will take us past a Wal-Mart and food for dinner. So off we go. Kelsey apparently is the ride photographer. He is taking pictures left and right. Not sure how some of the pictures are going to turn out. As many were taken at speed, right hand on the throttle, left hand holding the camera over his left shoulder about ear level pointed backwards. If he wasn’t doing that he was moving up and down the line at speed or having you pass him as he would take the shot. At one point he took off like a shot, after about 30 – 40 sec. we lost sight of him. About 5 min. later the rest of us round a corner to see Kelsey standing on the side of the road taking pictures as we pass by. What a nut… hahaha

We make it off the back roads onto a 4 lane divided highway. Soon after we enter the Hwy Brendan goes thru a traffic light on green, me on orange, Ken and Garrett on “pink”. Kelsey and Ray get caught. We slow down in the right lane to about 35 mph waiting on Ray and Kelsey. The next thing I know Ken and Garrett have pulled up beside me in the left lane and Garrett has taken over from Kelsey just snapping away. I look behind them to see that with bikes now in both lanes and both of us doing 35 in a 55 we are starting to block traffic, this goes on for about 2 min. Just as I start to get really concerned about this we arrive at Wal-Mart. Coincidentally, Kelsey and Ray have just caught up. I look behind me as I turn in to see, Ken and Garrett, Kelsey, Ray and someone I did not care to see, a car with a badge on each door and a blue light bar across the top of the car. I just knew we were going to get busted for impeding traffic. We park the bikes and surprise… surprise… the Officer gets out his car and starts walking our way… dang! He walks up to Kelsey and Ray, I am relieved at this point that it is not Ken and I. The Officer asks them “Did you not see me behind you for the last 2 miles.” Legitimately, the two of them had no idea they were just trying to catch up. They explained / pleaded their case with the Officer who eventually let them off the hook, even though they were doing 90mph to catch up. It was their lucky day.

Kelsey headed into Wal-Mart and came out with an 8” thick queen mattress… sissy. We loaded it onto his bike and headed off to a Mexican place Kelsey had seen on the way down and had a big hearty meal. We are all stuffed, and mount up for the ride back to camp. I had forgotten much to my shame, that Brendan’s bike likes the choke if it has gotten cold. I will never forget again, I was so embarrassed. We pull out of the parking lot onto a side road. There is a concrete drainage dip between the parking lot and the road. My momentum carries the front wheel into the dip. I lean the bike. The rear wheel enters the dip and I apply throttle to power out of the dip only to have the bike sputter and die. Now I am only doing about 2 mph, but I am in leaned into the corner, there is no way for me to muscle the bike back up. The best I can do is lay the bike down softly, steady myself and pick the bike back up. As I am picking the bike back up Ray rides up and says “Well now that you have gotten that over with you can enjoy the rest of the ride.” I was mortified at making such a rookie mistake even for a dirt bike rider. Oh well, nothing got hurt except my pride. The ride back was pleasant, thinks got little damp but it was a welcome break from the heat. We arrived back at came to see things were just starting to get underway.

Second clue, there were about 200 bikes now at the “resort” but we noticed only about 10 tents of which 5 were ours. There were some drinking games, hula hoop etc. as a warm-up. The band cranked up around 8:00pm. We eventually made it to the bar around 9:00pm only to discover standing room only. The band was good, but loud. So loud, you really felt it in your whole body.

Indian Hills is a place frequented by regulars, not over nighters. Or so it appeared. The camping facilities are marginal, but adequate. Most of the visitors are bikers from the local area and this is obviously a party place for them. But in my limited knowledge I have discovered several things about that style bike. They are like some women’s bathing suits. They are meant to be seen in, definitely not for swimming. It would be extremely uncomfortable to ride an OCC style bike for any length of time. Hard seat pan, extended arched back, low spring rates, and a hard wide rear tire, real pretty to look at though. One of the bikers was bragging how he was a long distance rider. His buddy turns to him and says “what do you mean long distance rider”. Biker “a” says “Well, I ride 50 miles to get to this place.” Now I am extremely green as a road rider goes, heck this is my first ride since ’86 and I have already ridden 100 miles just that day. Anyway, we head back outside sit at one of the picnic table and shoot the breeze until bedtime.

The band stopped paying sometime around 2:00am, at that point heads everyone headed for home. Most are running straight pipes no mufflers, so you can imagine the ruckus that kicked up. The 15 or so that were left just migrated to the pool, about 30 yards from us. They partied there at full blast until daylight. About 4:00am I heard Kelsey grumbling, the next thing I heard was the sound of a muffled bike idling out of the camp. I later discovered Kelsey had given up on sleep and was headed to town to find a Waffle House, breakfast and coffee. Brendan started snoring around 2:30am. I finally got some shut eye from 5:00am – 6:30am. I heard Kelsey breaking camp and decided to get up. It was not long after when the rest of the dead were rising. At this point about 7 of the original 15 were still going strong in the pool. More power to them. We broke camp and packed the bikes.

While we were finishing up one of the pool crew passed thru camp.. He and Kelsey chatted long enough for him to spot Kelsey’s bottle of Wild Turkey.. Kelsey offered him some and they were now friends for life. The bottle vanished and was soon being passed around the pool group until it was empty. Ray, I think summed it up best. Indian Hills is not a motorcycle resort, but a bar that happens to have a campground.

We mount up, Kelsey leading the way and headed off to the Omelet shop he found. We all had a wonderful breakfast, said our goodbyes and went our separate ways. Brendan, I think was truly excited that he and I were riding together. I think we took every back road, and I swear I saw the same building more than once… hahaha He did not want the ride to end, neither did I. So I was happy to oblige. He did feel bad and was concerned about the bad experience we had just had would taint me wanting to ride again. So the next thing I knew, we found our selves at 29 Dreams. Now this was a Motorcycle Resort of a different color. It was not posh by any means, but it was nice, very clean, and the grounds were outstanding. Put this way the place is owned and run by a former police officer. Just by looking at the bikes, these were folks that ride and were overnighters. They come to 29 Dreams to camp and ride the twistys in the area, which let me tell you there are some twistys wholly cow. I learned real quick… for me the most threatening turn is a left or right off camber, on a rise where the apex of the turn is the same as the crest of the rise. The turn starts fine, but as you apex and crest the rise, the bike straightens up and wants to go v-e-r-y straight and shoot off the side of the road. I managed to save it, but it only took one lesson!!! Definitely going back there, even found a beer that I had been looking for, very few places carry it. If you like smooth ale try, New Castle Ale, popped a couple in the saddle bags for home.

We finally arrived back at Brendan’s around 3:30pm after taking the loaner bike back. Hopped in my car and headed for home. I arrived back at home around 6:30pm exhausted… Would I do it all over again, you bet. I am thoroughly hooked. In the end I no longer have any apprehension towards road biking. The key is, respect the bike, respect the road, and respect the other vehicles as they may not respect you. It’s like carrying a loaded weapon on your person. In an altercation you know more than the other fellow what can happen if things get heated so best walk away. No need to ruin your life because “You were right.” As such I revise my perceived percentages; I feel that riding a bike is no more dangerous than driving a car. Yes you are more exposed; however you pay much more attention to what you are doing. Kind of like driving a car at 130mph, you just pay more attention.

Awaiting my next opportunity to post with another ride.

NOTE: This story elicited an official protest letter from Indian Hills!