'Hey guys, tomorrow something exciting is going to happen,' remarks 'Tiger' Christian at dinner, putting on a smug smile like a Cheshire cat sitting in front of its Christmas turkey. It doesn't matter that it is only October. Somehow, everyday is Christmas in the USA.
Sometimes things turn out differently than you expect. For example: You sing the September song while preparing for the end of the season, packing away the leathers and helmet and explaining to your throttle hand that it will have a break for five to six months. And then suddenly excitement breaks out, because things have changed. You've got an invitation to go motorcycling. You pack the suitcase with your gear and take off for the airport saying adieu to the gray, cloudy European fall rain.
Ten hours later: Winston-Salem, North Carolina, 85° Fahrenheit at 6 p.m. A day later, a bright yellow Triumph Sprint ST is standing in front of the door. For real, and with a US license plate (from the Triumph importer in Atlanta, Georgia) and a speedometer in miles!
And so, we take off west towards the Appalachian Mountains. The beginning of the tour took us on an endlessly long highway, at a maximum speed of 75 mph, and with the eyes of the law just everywhere, either with blinking lights or secret radar. You know how it is.