BamaRider
Guy
In 1974, I took my 1974 Kawasaki 900 Z1 on a Fall trip. On the way home, I passed through Cheaha State Park, the highest point in Alabama, and the Southern tip of the Appalachian Mountains. Compared to all the places I've ridden the last 25 years, not that big a deal, but not bad for Alabama. Thus, the streak began. I was 19 years old in 1974, riding for five years—my whole life before me.
Every fall, in the first week of November, I leave home and make the ride, a 300+ mile round trip. In the first few years, the route varied, but since 1978, it has always been the same, and a few days ago marked the 51st consecutive year. I didn't mean to start something; it is a pleasant ride from my home to the summit, about 125 miles, on Alabama backroads, past timberland, woods, farmland, and small towns. Always a good ride.
On the way home, I would ride by my sister's home in Gadsden to visit her and drink a Coke. Doing so took me 100 miles out of the way, but that was ok, I loved my sister, and when she became a widow in 2018, it was even more important to see her. She died two years ago, but I still make the detour and ride by her house in her honor.
My ride a few days ago was perfect, with mild, sunny weather and leaves in peak color. I can hardly put into words how therapeutic this ride is; only long riders can understand it. Several homes that were new and happy in 1974 now sit in despair and emptiness. Acres of the pristine forests of Coosa County are now gone, harvested by the paper mills. My mind was filled with memories of the past, such as the ride in 1976 to Cheaha two months before I got married, or the one in 1980 when I had an 8-month-old son at home. The ride in 2005, seven months after retirement, and how it felt on that day. The ride in 2019 on the RT when I got caught in a brutal storm on the way home for 100 miles.
I only have a few pictures from the early years; photography was complicated back then, but since the advent of the digital age, I have many more. So many, I seldom stop for pictures, except for here and there. There is nothing left for me to capture; I have all the best.
In 2004, I buried a box under a tree a few feet off the road as an "Easter Egg." That box is still there. Each year, I place an item in it that has something to do with the current year, along with a note that includes the date and time I was there, as well as a few words. I have the GPS coordinates, but finding the exact tree is near impossible for someone who doesn't know it. I plan to bring it home on my last ride, which I don't know when that will be. Perhaps I can get it while I still can. I'm now 70; something unplanned could happen tomorrow, and I might not be here, and it would be lost.
Maybe I can find a younger rider, show him where it is, so if something happened, he could get it to my family, and since the hole is already dug, he can start an annual Cheaha ride of his own.
A few pics of the recent ride.
A list of the bikes that have had the honor.
1974 Kawasaki 900 Z1
1978 Honda 1000 Gold Wing
1984 Kawasaki 750 GPZ
1992 Kawasaki 900 Ninja
2001 Honda ST 1100
2004 Honda ST 1300
2005 BMW 1200 RT
2014 Yamaha 1300 FJR
2018 BMW 1200 RT
2025 Honda 1100 NT
Every fall, in the first week of November, I leave home and make the ride, a 300+ mile round trip. In the first few years, the route varied, but since 1978, it has always been the same, and a few days ago marked the 51st consecutive year. I didn't mean to start something; it is a pleasant ride from my home to the summit, about 125 miles, on Alabama backroads, past timberland, woods, farmland, and small towns. Always a good ride.
On the way home, I would ride by my sister's home in Gadsden to visit her and drink a Coke. Doing so took me 100 miles out of the way, but that was ok, I loved my sister, and when she became a widow in 2018, it was even more important to see her. She died two years ago, but I still make the detour and ride by her house in her honor.
My ride a few days ago was perfect, with mild, sunny weather and leaves in peak color. I can hardly put into words how therapeutic this ride is; only long riders can understand it. Several homes that were new and happy in 1974 now sit in despair and emptiness. Acres of the pristine forests of Coosa County are now gone, harvested by the paper mills. My mind was filled with memories of the past, such as the ride in 1976 to Cheaha two months before I got married, or the one in 1980 when I had an 8-month-old son at home. The ride in 2005, seven months after retirement, and how it felt on that day. The ride in 2019 on the RT when I got caught in a brutal storm on the way home for 100 miles.
I only have a few pictures from the early years; photography was complicated back then, but since the advent of the digital age, I have many more. So many, I seldom stop for pictures, except for here and there. There is nothing left for me to capture; I have all the best.
In 2004, I buried a box under a tree a few feet off the road as an "Easter Egg." That box is still there. Each year, I place an item in it that has something to do with the current year, along with a note that includes the date and time I was there, as well as a few words. I have the GPS coordinates, but finding the exact tree is near impossible for someone who doesn't know it. I plan to bring it home on my last ride, which I don't know when that will be. Perhaps I can get it while I still can. I'm now 70; something unplanned could happen tomorrow, and I might not be here, and it would be lost.
Maybe I can find a younger rider, show him where it is, so if something happened, he could get it to my family, and since the hole is already dug, he can start an annual Cheaha ride of his own.
A few pics of the recent ride.
A list of the bikes that have had the honor.
1974 Kawasaki 900 Z1
1978 Honda 1000 Gold Wing
1984 Kawasaki 750 GPZ
1992 Kawasaki 900 Ninja
2001 Honda ST 1100
2004 Honda ST 1300
2005 BMW 1200 RT
2014 Yamaha 1300 FJR
2018 BMW 1200 RT
2025 Honda 1100 NT
Last edited:
