By Dave Mathers

For many years, I had heard of a great motorcycle rally held annually in North Georgia. Every year, I either found some excuse not to go or forgot about it all together. I decided in early March of this year that I was going to go, so I made hotel reservations for late June, started preparing ‘Pa,’ my trusty Norton, and told all of my friends of my plans. There would be no backing out.

Getting the Norton ready was easy. After 43 years with this motorcycle, I have it pretty well sorted it out and working on it, for me, is really a pleasure. The workshop was busy with the normal winter service, including fork oil change and a new rear tire.

‘Pa’ was ready early, sitting patiently at the door, waiting to go.

Then things started to unravel a bit. My original roommate had to cancel, leaving me with a rather expensive hotel tab. I put out a note to two local groups I belong to, appealing for a roommate, but got no response.

I put a note on the International Norton Owners Association Facebook page, and, after a week of silence, a fellow member agreed to share a room.

A day later, a friend called and offered to let me stay in his camping trailer at the rally, but I was already committed and had to decline.

The plan then unraveled a little more. Three of us had planned to ride our Nortons and Triumph to the rally from Cincinnati, following some great backroad routes through Kentucky, Tennessee and North Carolina to Hiawassee, Ga. The weather man stepped in and advised us that would not be such a good idea, unless we wanted to spend 300 miles in a torrential downpour. Change of plans.

My friend, Bill, offered ‘Pa’ a spot on his trailer and me a seat in his car to ride down, along with his wife, Shelia. I readily accepted, considering the weather forecast.

When Bill realized that his car wasn’t capable of pulling such a load, he contacted Dean, the owner of the camping trailer/toy hauler, and brokered ‘Pa’ and me a ride to Georgia. I accepted the ride when Dean called. Then, the next day, my roommate canceled on me, and I had to humbly ask Dean if I could spend the weekend with him. He agreed.

My Norton is neither a show bike nor a trailer queen, but there are exceptions. ‘Pa’ has been trailered to a few track days and hauled home a few times with mechanical issues, and I was OK with this traveling arrangement.

It turned out to be an excellent call. We drove through heavy rain for a good portion of the trip to Georgia, rain so heavy at times it would have been impossible to continue on a motorcycle.

The 33rd British in the Blue Ridge Rally, hosted by The Greater Atlanta British Motorcycle Association, was well worth the trouble to get to. Held at the beautiful lakefront Green Mountain Fairgrounds in Hiawassee, Ga., the venue itself was worth the trip. It was obvious from the start that this group had done this before.

The group rides, poker runs, pre-mapped routes, bike show and swap meet were surpassed only by the wonderful and friendly people who attended the event.

The roads in North Georgia are beyond compare. Riding in the Blue Ridge Mountains is like no other experience. The roads are perfectly manicured ribbons of asphalt, no lumps or bumps, no frost heaves or tar snakes. They are also very technical. The farther you venture off the main arteries, the narrower and more twisted they become. I haven’t been lots places, but this, by far, was the best riding I have ever encountered.

Chasing two Nortons, ridden by ex-racers, was challenging and exhilarating, even though they took it easy on the rest of us and stayed out of warp speed mode. Dean was especially patient with me and let me follow his line and gave great tutelage as I tried to figure out my weakness in left hand corners.

We did this for three days with little traffic in the most ideal weather you could imagine: cool temperatures with low humidity; very uncommon for Georgia in June.

We made it back to base every day before ferocious afternoon thunderstorms wreaked havoc on the campgrounds. One storm blew a large oak tree over, missing our camper by only a few feet, while I was standing next to it with Shelia.

The plan deteriorated more near the end. I had hoped to spend two days riding home solo across the Cherohala Highway, slay “The Dragon” [US 129] and traverse the Blue Ridge Mountain Parkway on the first day, then cross the Appalachian Mountains. But it was not to be.

Again, the weatherman stepped in and advised me to change my plans. A good call indeed. On Monday, we packed up the toy hauler and drove home through one of the most hellacious thunderstorms we had ever been in. Fifty miles of driving, in rain so hard the visibility was down to 10 feet. The high winds would have made it impossible to ride a motorcycle.

But, who needs plans? I spent five days with five great people riding on some of the best roads in the country on my faultless Norton.

There are several great things about a perfect ride. You can have many of them in a lifetime. They can be as short as a trip around the block or thousands of miles. You can ride one up or two, solo or in large groups or small. The more often you ride, the better your chances of having another perfect ride.