Reigned In.

2,923 kilometres of memories.

London, ON – The day seemed set on monochrome as I twisted open the throttle for the final push home. Donning rain gear, we set off into a deluge that didn't let up until Findlay, Ohio.

We had decided to forgo any of the fun back roads because we were being greeted by the remnants of a tropical storm that had hit Texas. Safety and ease of getting back home would win the day.

My aching tailbone was silently grateful.

Perhaps it was time after more than 46 hours of riding, 2,923 kilometres, countless curves, three BBQ sandwiches, seven states and a province. And a tonne of laughs and memories with my father.

Which is what it was all about. Thanks, Dad.

Vitals:

•     Time: 7 hours
•     Distance: 541.2 kms
•     Weather: Heavy rain, giving way to sun
•     States/Province: Ohio, Michigan, Ontario
•     Wildlife: Deer

Beam Me Up.

Not a booze cruise.

Dayton, OH – The rural roads we crossed in central Kentucky this morning were quiet and unlined. Coursing under a canopy of mature trees, they more resembled extended driveways.

Dogs, puffing their chests, nipped at our heels as we roared past barns, streaked red and black, and countless Baptist steeples, bleached white.

For miles, corn sprouted to my knees, while other fields were pin-pricked by bright bales, dried in the sun. And then, apparently, we stumbled upon the Bourbon Trail. Acres of storage sheds for the brown liquor stood tall on the roadside: Maker’s Mark, Heaven’s Hill and Jim Beam.

We took a break to stroll through the Beam homestead and have a quick look at some of the production facilities as the smell of charred white oak and vanilla blended into the boozy humidity. We didn't imbibe: we didn't want our two wheels to begin to appear they were four.

Soon, we crossed a big blue bridge over the Ohio River, leading me to expect to be in its namesake's state. Instead, Indiana.

Cruising along the waterway, we stopped into Rising Sun for lunch. If the name of the town wasn’t enough of a reason to stop, the tasty pulled pork sandwich and conversation with Mark at the Main Street Diner certainly was.

These quirky finds are what make road trips what they are.

Vitals:

•     Time: 9 hours, 30 minutes
•     Distance: 463.7 kms
•     Weather: Sunny, with only a sprinkle of rain
•     States: Kentucky, Indiana, Ohio
•     Wildlife: None

Like a Champ.

So. Many. Churches.

Campbellsville, KY – I floated by a butterfly, and got stung by a bee.

I don’t imagine the insect was thrilled about having slammed itself into my leg at 80 km/hr, leaving me banking through 10 more minutes of curves before I could finally stop to pluck the stinger from my skin.

Wear chaps, you say?

Soon thereafter, we passed a white house nestled into the trees that was notable for vast streams of red that ran down its face. I presume its owners butcher animals on the second-floor porch. At least I hope that's what it was.

It was a bit of an odd stretch of road to say the least.

We had continued our slow return north on Highway 27 after a morning ride on the stunning  Cherohala Skyway into Tennessee. Far less technical than Tail of the Dragon, the 40-mile scenic byway continues to twist and turn and is, in many ways, a more enjoyable ride. Along with rides out of Prestonburg and through Great Smoky National Park, this was a highlight of the trip.

If you like being blanketed in the silence of your own thoughts, meandering streams, trees and vistas that stretch into three-dimensional panoramas, the Cherohala Skyway might be the place for you.

I know it was for me.

Vitals:

• Time: 8 hours, 30 minutes
• Distance: 489.3 kms
• Weather: Sunny, with rain at the end of the day; hot
• States: North Carolina, Tennessee, Kentucky
• Wildlife: None

Tame of the Dragon.

Salmon? No, slalom!

Robbinsville, NC – No sign trumpets your arrival.

Instead, you suddenly find yourself in the maw of the dragon.

While we had slalomed across roads in six states already, this was the main event – the ride we were here to challenge. Tail of the Dragon in Deals Gap, North Carolina features 318 curves over 11 miles as you roar over the border into Tennessee. It's trumpeted as the top motorcycle and sports car road in the United States.

It's a technical ride with constant shifting as you swish over roads banked like a bobsleigh track. After two days on the highway, it took a conscious reminder to ride with my feet. No, it's definitely not a time for sightseeing. Instead, I aimed high and tried to not look away out of fear of missing the next curve, which was inevitably imminent. Repeatedly.

Mission: Don't add to the Tree of Shame.

My mind even barely registered the Lamborghini sitting at the crest of one of the hills.

Although the roads were relatively quiet that time of day, light through the trees danced, playing tricks on my eyes as I bent myself into a couple 300-degree turns. Ever present: the unwillingness to contribute to the notorious Tree of Shame.

The day began with a deer, but ended with a dragon, slain.

Twice.

Vitals:

•     Time: 10.5 hours
•     Distance: 569.8 kms
•     Weather: Sunny with fluffy clouds, hot
•     States: Kentucky, Tennessee, North Carolina
•     Wildlife: Deer

Out of Town.

Great Smoky Mountains National Park, minus the bear.

Pigeon Forge, TN – We began the day careening down Highway 23 – the Country Music Highway, apparently – past tree-lined peaks nestled into low-lying clouds.

I hadn't gone a mile before a sun-kissed fawn crossed the road in front of me. It ambled away with an awkward gait and a stunned look. I'm not sure it knew what to make of the rumble from my engine.

Cedar and eucalyptus provided nature’s cologne, eagerly breathed in. The whole experience through the clouds reminded me of my time in Rwanda. Today offered some of my all-time favourite rides.

All morning, we'd go up, down and around like we were riding a ribbon a young child had awkwardly glued to a page.

Then, stuck in traffic, we were greeted by the neon theme park that is Pigeon Forge, Tennessee, which is set against the vast majesty of Great Smoky Mountains National Park. It's sadly reminiscent of Niagara Falls, Ontario: once a beauty, now faded and overcompensating with too much make-up.

Instead, strip malls showcase 'As seen on TV' stores, countless billboards for commercially made ‘moonshine’ and Dollywood. All of this framed by the towering canopy of trees cascading over winding roads through the park.

I’ll take the latter, thanks.

Oh, Hi, Yo.

Roads, bent like Gumby.

Prestonburg, KY – As we rode into Ohio, the morning chill melted off to aromas of dry pine and campfire. By lunch, which we had enjoyed at a rest stop in Michigan, the temperature had risen from 14 to 30.

And, by mid-afternoon: 40.

But, as we approached Columbus, Ohio, the round, peaty smell of summer rain rose to my nostrils and grey skies turned white with large drops that caromed off the windshield. We didn’t even have time to don our rain riders.

Twenty minutes past the storm, however, it hardly mattered: the hot wind had slapped the moisture from our legs and, again, we sizzled.

We were fortunate to re-find the sun as it dropped with us into the Appalachian Mountains, where rock faces finally unmasked themselves to us.

These are the curves for which the area is so well known.

Vitals:

•   Time: 11 hours, 15 minutes
•   Distance: 845.7 kms
•   Weather: Variably sunny and cloudy, with thunderstorms in Columbus; cool then hot
•   Province/States: Ontario, Michigan, Ohio, Kentucky
•   Wildlife: None

In Tune.

Time to Scituate (Mass.) yourself.

London, ON – The folk-rock sounds of Mumford & Sons echoed in our ears as we tucked into the thick blanket of fog that draped over Massachusetts this morning.

After a short visit to Beantown, and a night in Mansfield, we were back on the road.

Last night's power-packed concert showcased the band's new rock-oriented direction, which isn't to say banjos didn't still make cameo appearances, particularly for older songs. The stage show was far more refined than the last time we saw them, in Hamilton, ON in 2011. That was, however, only their second-ever stadium show.

The concert opened with a whisper as Marcus Mumford let the energy build, almost mumbling through the opener, Only Love. Sounds crested like waves, quietly building through the band's older material and new songs. The new direction brought a level of stadium-appropriate thrashing impossible with their older tunes.

People danced, insofar as they could when pressed elbow-to-elbow throughout the venue.

Parking at the Xfinity Center, however, was a tangled mess, as long threads of cars stood, engines off, for more than two hours before finally moving. Trying to get 12,000 people out three gates was, apparently, more than a small challenge. It's no wonder concertgoers experienced with the venue arrived with hibachi grills, games and plenty of food and beverage. The whole evening was a giant tailgate party.

Getting back to the hotel at 2 a.m., however, left us with only four hours of sleep.

Just what you want for a 10-hour driving day.

Vitals:

•     Time: 10 hours
•     Distance: 970.9 kms
•     Weather: Foggy, leading to thunderstorms, heavy rain
•     States/Province: Massachusetts, New York, Ontario
•     Wildlife: None

Camelot.

I sense your attention flagging.

Boston, MA – The glitz, the glamour.

The gilt, the grin.

The pageantry, the gowns, the boats, the gifts. The hand-annotated speeches, and recordings of those words spoken, resounding. Astounding.

Election posters, pins and bunting. History, encapsulated: the John F. Kennedy Presidential Library and Museum.

Papers from the Cuban Missile Crisis show a level of civility and diplomacy seemingly absent today. Khrushchev and Kennedy, firm, yet cordial as the world teeters on the verge of nuclear apocalypse.

Suddenly, a long, black hallway, darkened – lit only by five small televisions. Newsreels.

November 22, 1963.

The lump in my throat forms like the one in Walter Cronkite's as he reads the news bulletin.

"President Kennedy died at 1 p.m. central standard time, 2 o'clock eastern standard time – some 38 minutes ago."

I don't know why I tear.

But I do.

Whale of a Time.

Old State House, Boston massacre site.

Boston, MA – The sun glimmered off the tracks that stitched our path from Braintree into Boston this morning.

Given past experiences, I've refused to drive in this city. Really, where else puts exit signs after an exit on the highway? Compound that with a series of one-way streets and tunnels that bring GPS signals to a grinding halt, and we opted to stay in the 'burbs and ride the rails.

Along the way, spray paint bubbles shouted allegiances in eye-popping colour.

It would be a morning of following the lines, as we also hit the red bricks that mark the city's Freedom Trail. From Boston Common to the Old State House to Bunker Hill, we trekked the 2.5-mile path to 16 sites that mark the city's role in the American Revolution.

In the afternoon, we bounced over two-foot swells aboard the Aurora, in search of whales. Tourists took turns trying to face the force of the wind at the front of the boat and were repeatedly pushed aside. Wind selfies rapidly became 'a thing.' The cold gave me a headache, but shivers could not diminish my joy of being back on a boat.

But then, the main event.

Just a fluke.

A seal bobbed like a dog in the wake, likely pleased with having a meal churned up for it. And, with an abrupt huff and a spray, minke and humpback whales rose to the surface, seemingly languid (as much so as a 79,000-pound animal can do anything languidly), flashing their tails and melting back into the frigid sea.

We saw approximately a dozen whales, which come here in great numbers to feed after six winter months spent starving in the Dominican Republic.

They certainly put on a show.

A-Mass-ed.

On the road, with spirits, buoyed.

Braintree, MA – Like an early morning flashlight to the eyes, the bright orange ball crests over the highway, drawing us east. Apparently, we are back to 5:30 a.m. starts.

Sure, we crossed these roads just a couple weeks ago, but why not make an impromptu return to Massachusetts for a Mumford & Sons concert? And I’ve never spent substantive time in Boston.

It is, after all, a beautiful day for a drive.

The first coffee shop: closed. Bathrooms at the second: same.

Possibly feeling the cobwebs of the early morning, the server at the next Tim Hortons doesn't feel like counting. 32 Timbits for the price of 20.

Now, that’s a better start.

Vitals

• Time: 10 hours
• Distance: 974.6 kms
• Weather: Sunny
• Province/States: Ontario, New York, Massachusetts
• Wildlife: None