SMOKY MOUNTAIN ROUND-UP

(Part 2)

Reprinted from TN Chapter “F” Newsletter

Written by Nina Roberts

            My mom is eighty-seven years old and I’m?… Well, I could have been born when she was in her forties, right?  Anyway, my husband, son, and a friend went to the AGWA Smoky Mountain Roundup in Sweetwater, Tennessee recently.  I told Mom the day before we left that we were going to east Tennessee the next day and that we would be back on Sunday.  Wayne has relatives near that part of the state, so I was hoping she would think that we were going to visit them.  I didn’t tell her we were going to a motorcycle rally because I knew it would worry her.  (She’s never been too keen on my association with motorcycles.)  I called my sister (who knew where I was) on Saturday.  Besides looking out for our parents, she was feeding the pets.  She said, “Mother asked me if you were off on the motorcycle.”  My sister hedged on the answer.  (I called to check on Mom and Dad Sunday morning before time for them to leave for church.  Mom said, “Are you with that motorcycle gang?”  I said, “We prefer not to be called a gang, Mom.”

            She had read in the newspaper about a group of motorcyclists who were in Chattanooga with 100,000 motorcycles.  She said she would kind of like to see that.  I assured her that was not our group, that there were only about one hundred of us.  Although, I think I saw most of those 100,000 when we went through Chattanooga during rush hour Friday afternoon.

            I rode with my husband from our home to Sweetwater, a distance of about 300 miles, the longest distance I’ve ridden with him at one stretch.  I rode most of the way home, until it started raining.  Then I abandoned ship for the relative comfort of the loaded Chevy Blazer, driven by our son, and pulling a trailer with two bikes.  Undaunted by the rain, we got on the Natchez Trail Parkway just outside Nashville and drive to Hoenwald.  For the first time, I saw wild turkeys as we traveled this area.  The rain continued to come down.  Wayne had donned a rain suit earlier, but I think one boot pretty much filled with water.  He finally decided to have us drive ahead of him, so he could follow the taillights on the trailer as his windshield kept fogging over.  There seemed no point to stopping as the rain showed no sign of letting up.

            We arrived home about 7 p.m.  Safe and tired, although Wayne was a little damp, but none the worse for wear.  It had been a good trip, with each of us getting to do some of the things we like to do.  We were impressed with the friendliness of the group, the staff at the motel, and the beauty of the area.