It is whispered that there are roads in Ohio worthy of worship, better than the Dragon, roads perfectly paved, with no traffic. Roads that run for miles and miles of twisty, windy, sharply banked turns.
Should I even breathe the name of the venerable route 26 that runs up the middle of the Wayne National Forest near Marietta? We don't want hordes of bikes jostling for room, squeezing us out, running us down in their rush to enjoy the view of the river, the Mail Pouch Tobacco barns, the covered bridges. And what of the #260, #565, #537, #145...? Roads that corkscrew thru the woods, with no shoulders, no flat place to put a kickstand or even put down a foot to take a photo to prove they exist.
Or the most fantastical route #255...a road that makes you laugh out loud as it snakes up and down a narrow ridge of land, tidy century farms clinging to the edges as it drops off both sides to pastures dotted with cattle and woods of burnished fall colours of russets, golds and brilliant yellows.
Maybe this road only exists for a couple of perfect fall days of the year, like the weekend just past... like a "Brigadoon" of the motorcycling world.
But wait...here comes two motorcycles towards me. With those familiar slanty-eyed headlights. One of the riders wearing a high viz jacket. Could it be two more Stromtroopers have found this mythical road? We lift our hands in recognition and ride our separate ways.
And now our dilemma...should we remain silent and keep this magical, riding mecca to ourselves?
Or should we spread the word of the glorious riding in this small corner of the world?
Naaaaaah...forget I said anything!:mrgreen: