The Cumberland Gap is a pass through the long ridge of the Cumberland Mountains, within the Appalachian Mountains, near the junction of the U.S. states of Kentucky, Virginia, and Tennessee. It is famous in American colonial history for its role as a key passageway through the lower central Appalachians
I bought my husband a motorcycle for his 45th Birthday. Honestly, I just gave “permission” for the purchase. My husband talked about motorcycles for months and wasn’t sure about spending the money. I just gave him justification to purchase his Harley.
Weeks before we were in San Francisco. Spur of the moment we decided to get tattoos on Haight Street. Just so cool. My husband chose an angel, not the artsy kind, more like the clean-cut holy kind. His tattoo is on his arm, I kept pointing out the hardline low rider type. It’s his tattoo not mine. He chooses an angel to represent me, I love angels. We, I mean he, chose colors to represent me and our two daughters. Purple is our older daughters favorite color and Blue is our younger daughters' favorite color. My husband was more anchored in me and our family than I thought.
As my husband was getting his tattoo, I was flipping through the tattoo samples and noticed a small dove with an olive branch. Not so wild yet it worked for me. Peace. My right foot was the target. Tattoos complete and feeling like free spirits we boarded a plane and headed for home.
Back to the Harley Story.
We went to the Harley dealer anticipating our...his purchase. I was just as excited as my husband. The show room was filled with motorcycles. He started his search by looking at the Electra-glide classic. I on the other hand was looking at the stereotypical low rider, black, chrome, fringed saddle bags, cool. Jack Nicholson and that Fonda guy.
Not my bike, his. I’ll just be behind him, holding on.
My idea of a motorcycle was so different from his blue Electra-glide classic, the kind cops ride verses a low rider, black, fringed, free-spirited type. He was happy and I felt a little let down. None the less I (he) did feel good about his choice and the awareness of his responsibility maneuvering a motorcycle on the road. The main thing was that my husband felt good about his choice. A touring bike which had a comfortable seat for me and all the features he wanted including chrome.
Training course, certification, test, license. More chrome, helmets, accessories, clothing, leather jackets and boots. Logo, all Harley.
Pass over a few months until the day we departed on our Gap trip.
My husband had his bike shiny clean and ready to go, with rags to clean the bike at every gas station stop. As we left our house it started to rain. Our first time riding in the rain......on the expressway? We pulled into Voice of America outdoor shopping mall to wait out the rain. We stood against Chipotles windows looking up at the sky debating whether to call the trip off or continue as planned.
Eventually there was a break in the rain, and we decided to go for it. We pulled our “Harley” rain gear over our “Harley” everything else and mounted the bike. I was worried about our safety as we merged onto I75. Big semis passed by very loud and intimidating next to a motorcycle with two kinds of novice Harley owners. (my husband owns it!)
That said, my husband is the most responsible driver I know, always abides by the rules of the road and safety.
It started to rain, we were on the bike, on the road, in the middle of a few lanes with trucks and cars all around. He debated on whether to pull to the side of the road.....I just held on traumatized by thoughts of wiping out and why his rain suit was better looking than mine....true.
He decided we got it this far in the rain, so we’ll stay on the road. I just cowered with visions of wiping out and what my hair would look like when I took off my helmet....true. I’ve got to give my husband credit for his driving skills, never swerving always steady. Eventually we approached our exit. My husband had reservations at a motel not far off I75.
The thing I remember most about the motel was 3 guys outside on the terrace. All three looked as if they had just gotten off work. They looked tired, covered in black soot. They were sitting on the balcony and smoking cigarettes. We thought they might be coal mine workers due to the hills, valleys and a West Virginia flare. Were there coal mines closed? Maybe? Maybe not, we didn’t know. My husband cleaned his motorcycle.
The next morning after a night's rest, showers, breakfast and dry clothing we were on our way. Wait....my husband cleaned off his motorcycle again. We continued into Cumberland Gap Park.
Beautiful, mountains, green, the smell of the land. We ascended upward and onward to the point where 3 States come together Kentucky, Tennessee and Virginia, plus access to the Appalachian Trail.
We made it to the entrance, the highlight of our trip. In the parking lot, my husband cleaned off his motorcycle.
We hiked up to the junction. Kentucky, Tennessee and Virginia. So neat we thought, at least I did. I wanted to take a picture of all three boarders. I straddled the boarders and aimed the camera down. I stepped into each state; three states, two feet. I shifted to fulfill my wish.
All right, an entrance for the Appalachian Trail. The look on my husband’s face said not this time. We walked back the same way we came, ending up in the parking lot. Back on the bike. My husband steady as ever making it all the way down the mountain with certainty and me right there too.
We descended to the park entrance. We noticed a log home with a porch, a gift shop and visitors center. A few men sat on the porch playing banjo and wash boards, country music, mountain music. Very good to hear! We stopped to listen; Jeff polished his motorcycle.
We mounted the motorcycle and continued through Daniel Boone National Forest. We stopped a few times to see historic landmarks. Then we continued until we made it back to I75. Lunch at Cracker Barrel then homeward bound. It felt like we were on the road forever with half of Kentucky still to go. Then Cincinnati and finally home.
I went in the house and kicked off my boots. I looked at my tattoo and knew my choice was right. Peace. My husband stayed outside and cleaned his motorcycle.
Yorumlar