I finally reached Montgomery well over an hour later, after pushing on past miles of intermittent fog and cold rain. Hilly country up there, more ba-da-dump than whoop- tee-do, but fun. I jumped at one of the first hotels I found, the Scottish Inn along US 231 in Pike Road. It turned out to be a good choice, with an understanding attendant that suggested I park my bike right outside my door. "Not that we have any problems here," he clarified, "but just in case."

Dinner was comprised of Slim Jims and some leftover Gatorade I found in my topcase. At that hour, it would have been hard to find a place to eat. After some serious rest, I checked out the next morning and headed for Interstate 65, which would lead to SR 25.

Some locals had recommended the highway as the "best road for bikers in Alabama." And that inevitably meant some technical turns and tight switchbacks would be involved. Wonderful! It was too bad I had to ride hundreds of miles to find some good curves to wean myself on, but here they were. I must admit that I wasn't ready. I had told myself, and friends, that I would take it easy on the first pass, then go another round much more aggressively. This way I would get to know the land I was to try to conquer.

But I didn't heed my own words, and the curves humbled me repeatedly as I took turns a little too hot and kept finding myself riding above my skill level. I eventually remembered the old adage, "With smooth comes fast," so I slowed down after a few miles. Good thing, as upon encountering my first-ever switchback round a blind corner, I ran so wide I landed in a driveway someone was kind enough to put there. I got off the bike and paused for a few minutes to take a breath and some pictures. Back Next