Another Bike Trip

By: Kase van Rees

If it weren't for my pops, Captain Dirk, I wouldn't have gotten to do half the things with cars and bikes I get to do. He's been building project vehicles since he was old enough to get his hands on a mini bike which would foul spark plugs faster than my cafe racer with a bad tune and cheap plugs. Everything we've done in our shop is all because of his knowledge and everything I know about working on these machines I learned from him.

When I was nearing the end of my high school career my dad encouraged me to find something that I could get excited about working on with him in the shop. I had always respected my dad being a biker as he was all his life, and I pretty quickly decided to have him help me build my first bike. That was my first major shop project, and over the two years we spent on it I learned more than I ever thought I would be able to do. As I started working well enough to do more jobs on my own, he decided to build another bike for himself to keep in GA so that we could ride together. The summer after my senior year of high school we set out on our very first annual father son bike trip.

These trips have been slightly different every year since but some things never change. We plan a route through the appalachian mountains where the air is cool and the roads are anything but straight. We both grab a backpack with some clothes, a toothbrush, and a bike lock and set out on the road. As we ride deeper into the mountains and away from our North Atlanta shop, the towns become progressively more quiet. Most are made up of only a few small storefronts and restaurants neatly huddled together along a two lane road. And in between each destination are winding mountain roads with little to no traffic. We duck in and out of the trees, leaning through steep cambered turns and up long hills. Staggered, our bikes cut through the air, howling a harmony of exhaust noise over faded gray blacktop as we're given friendly waves from the occasional tractor and cautious stares from nearby livestock. Before you know it the trees clear and give way to a vast landscape of rolling hills nestled beneath a blanket of mist.

Along the sides of the roads through the trees are rushing waterfalls and quiet rivers that make for perfect locations to cool off and stretch the legs. After a long day wrestling our vintage bikes through the mountains we kick off our boots and settle into a local diner for food and beer before retiring to our hotel for the night. When the sun again casts dim light through the clouds we unlock our cold bikes and break the silence of morning with the warming noise of two custom sport bikes. Trips like these really do stay with you forever.