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I know you’re off tonight. There is a motorcycle rally in town this week. It’s called Rumble in the Valley, and they have good vendors out at the fairgrounds. Rocky Pass Vacation Rentals has a booth. Taeli and I are working it until seven, and then Sara-Beth is taking over. Come see the bikes and eat some greasy food with us.
A motorcycle rally? That sounds fun.
I decide to go against my instinct to distance myself from social interaction and accept the invitation.
Looks like I need to get home and get Suga ready for a ride.
I back my Harley-Davidson Street Glide out of its trailer. It’s a special white sand pearl edition, and the vanity plate proudly displays its name—Suga. This motorcycle is my pride and joy. It’s the first big purchase I ever made, and I worked my ass off to save for it. I might drive an old beater vehicle, but my bike is kept in perfect condition.
A thrill shoots through me as I straddle the powerful machine, and it hums to life.
Riding it is the closest I’ll ever get to the freedom of a bird. It’s just me, the road, and the wind. When life gets too much to handle, all I have to do is climb on Suga and let the wind therapy work its magic.
I give the bike a bath and have her shined up nicely before I hop into the shower and head out to meet the girls.
Rolling up to the fairgrounds, I spot the sea of motorcycles in the parking lot. There has to be hundreds.
After parking Suga, I pay the entrance fee and make my way to the first line of booths.
There are a large variety of vendors with biker clothing, custom helmets, leather saddlebags, chaps, boots, jewelry, custom bike accessories for Indian, Honda, and Harley motorcycles. They even have a boutique that makes leather vests for your dogs. This is a biker’s dream.
I spend money that I didn’t intend to on a pair of skull earrings and a kick-ass pair of dark gray motorcycle boots. I sign up for a guided ride on Saturday afternoon through what is called the Cobra, which is thirty-six miles of climbing, twisting roads along the Great Smoky Mountains Parkway. I even grab a new pair of Harley-Davidson wraparound shades. And that’s all before I make it to Rocky Pass’s booth.
“Maxi, you made it,” Erin says as I approach the booth.
“Yeah, this rally is cool as shit,” I tell her.
“I knew you’d like it.”
“Thank you for the invite. I had no idea it was happening this week,” I say.
“It happens three times a year—a spring, summer, and fall rally. There’re nightly concerts; a bike show with cash awards for first, second, and third place; and tour rides. The valley is flooded with riders. They fill up all the motels and campgrounds. It’s so much fun,” Taeli adds.
“That’s amazing. I didn’t really figure Balsam Ridge as a biker town,” I muse.
“Are you kidding? We love it. I swear I keep trying to talk my husband, Ted, into buying me a Harley. He keeps saying no,” Erin admits.
Reason number five thousand as to why I don’t want or need a husband.
“You should buy yourself one,” I encourage.
She groans. “I’ve wrecked my car half a dozen times, so he thinks a bike would be too ‘dangerous.’” She lifts her fingers and does air quotes around the worddangerous.
Taeli laughs. “He’s right. You’d kill yourself on one of those things.”
Erin points to me. “Maxi can teach me how to drive one. If she can do it, I can do it.”
I nod. “Totally. You just have to pay attention to your surroundings and be cautious,” I say.
“See. It’s the paying attention to her surroundings that gets her in trouble,” Taeli informs me.
“I guess I’ll just have to ride bitch on your bike,” Erin says, nodding toward me.
“What’s that?” Sara-Beth asks as she approaches us.
“I’m trying to talk Maxi here into letting me ride on the back of her motorcycle,” Erin confesses.
“Oh, how fun. Graham has taken me for a spin or two on his,” Sara-Beth says.
