I'm up early to break camp and get packed, thankful the predicted rain hasn't shown up yet. If the economists predicted the weather, and the weathermen predicted the economy, the accuracy wouldn't change much on either front. The black bear is making his morning rounds of empty campsites and we acknowledge each other and go on about our respective businesses. Guy wakes up and loads his ST quickly. We take one last look around, then we're out on the Skyline. What a shame the speed limit is only 35. At 45, it would be about right but the STs are loping along at our pace. But this is not the place for a ticket from the Federal Government. As we ease along, I'm looking for a breakfast place, figuring there's not much to chose from. Skyland is coming up and it has a restaurant, so we pull in. We get a table pretty quickly, and strike up a conversation with our waiter. He's not from here, but works the park system, moving to different parts during the season. I find out he just came back from Denali, where I had been in the summer. The grub is really good and he provides good service. Plus the view from the windows is out of this world. As we head back out, I'm thankful the Skyline is only 100+ miles long. This 35 MPH limit is a real pain. Finally we get to the Blue Ridge Parkway.

It's amazing what an extra 10 MPH can make. Guy has talked about stopping at the D-Day Memorial in Bedford, which is fine with me. I drop into my zone, just enjoying the views, the road and the day. Ever now and then we will pull of and take some shots of beautiful vistas decked out in gorgeous color.

Suddenly I realize there's no Guy in my rearview mirror. I wait a few minutes, then decide I'd better head back and see what's up. I see Guy and discover I whizzed right by the Bedford turnoff while he was blinking his lights and honking his horn. I know this stop really was special for him, so I apologize for zoning out. The ride down to the Memorial is a really nice piece of pavement, and I make a note that coming back, I'll crank the wick a bit. We stop for gas, and I see two well-fed locals talking, so I ask them -

“You fellers look like you know where a good place to eat would be.”

“Sure nuff, the Bedford Café a few miles past the Memorial” one of them tells us.

They give us directions and we head for the Memorial. It is a moving tribute to the sacrifice that good men and women made for our country. Having served in the Marines, I understand a little bit of what these folks did before and during the battle. Seeing several older men of about the right age, I wonder if they were actually there that day. But I've learned that generation does not talk much about the war. Men did their duty and kept quiet about it, so I don't ask. We snap several pictures of what is an amazing tribute to the men and women who fought for what they believed in.

To my knowledge this memorial is completely financed by private contributions which makes it even more amazing. Bedford was chosen as the site because it suffered more losses of men per citizen on D-Day than any other town in America. We realize we've got a ways to go, so we head out in search of grub. When I realize the Bedford Café is a good ways away, I head back into town. I spot a cafeteria in a little mall with a Winn-Dixie, and turn left into it, narrowly avoiding a speeding moron. The grub is fair, nothing to write home about, but it fills an empty spot. We amble down to Winn-Dixie and pickup some steaks, beans, and salad and head back for the Parkway. As we get close to the good piece of pavement, I crank the wick a bit to pass some cars so I can have the road to myself. After two days of 35 and 45, the ST is more than happy to comply. Back on the Parkway, we find the closest campground and set up camp. We gather up some wood and I break out the old trusty ax and make short work of it. A small fire will feel good tonight. Seems as if none of the Parkway campgrounds we can find have showers and seldom have lights. Oh well, another splash and wash tonight. As I cook supper, the fire is burning well. I look up and it's Mitch – the ST rider we met the night before.

“Saw your fire and the bikes and figured it was you” he says.

“Are you hungry? We'd be glad to share our grub with you” I offer again.

He has already eaten, but we enjoy talking until the fire dies down. We all head back to our tents, wondering if the rain will catch us in the morning.