The Pastor's Wife Wears Biker Boots (15 page)

“Exactly.” Opal slapped her leg and looked at me.

I gave her my best puppy-dog-eyes look. “Opal, you don’t want to come all this way and not face The Dragon. Look how far you’ve come. And we’ve already tackled countless curves and switchbacks.”

“Not 318 of them in eleven miles!”

“’Leven miles!” Timmy clapped and rocked on the other side of Reba.

“That’s true, Opal. But I’ll stay right behind you. Haven’t I been there for you through the whole trip so far?”

“I have to give you that, Kirstie. You have. Even when these two went ahead and lost me, you stayed right there.” She jerked her head toward Lily and Opal.

I pursed my lips and gave her my Mama Bear look. “Hey, now, be fair. It’s easy to get separated in the mountains.”

“Tell ya what, Opal.” Reba walked off the porch to the gravel parking lot and snuffed out her cigarette.
“You make the ride down The Dragon, when we get to the Dragon Store, lunch is on me. Deal?”

“As in Deal’s Gap?” I snorted.

Everyone rolled their eyes and groaned.

I wished Opal would hurry up and get some courage. At the end of this run was the Deal’s Gap store where we could gas up, get something to eat, and shop. My stomach growled louder than the pipes on my bike.

There was a long silence. Finally Opal nodded. “OK. But if I end up a crippled vegetable because of this…”

Lily held up her hand. “I know. I know. We’ll have to take care of you. Like we wouldn’t? C’mon. Let’s roll.”

Reba walked back to the porch. “Let’s get something to drink and gas up first.”

We herded inside for bottles of cold water. With the sweltering heat and the added warmth of our protective gear, we needed all the H-2-0 we could get.

We filled our tanks and butterflies hit my stomach as we edged our way out of the parking lot. Bikes roared by at tremendous speeds. Seeing young people take such risks scared me. We were taking risks, to be sure, but not at an excessive speed.

Reba started down the mountain and while I couldn’t hear Timmy’s squeals over my engine, his waving hands told me everything. I was sure we’d be picking bugs out of his teeth for weeks because his smile had to be big.

Lily followed Reba, Opal started down slowly behind Lily, and I became the tail of the Lady Eels as we snaked our way down The Dragon’s back. We discovered that between Reba’s coaching and our practices, we were more prepared for this precarious, world-famous course than most first-timers.

I talked my way through the curves. “Inside, outside. When you go to the left, go to the right side of the lane. When you curve right, go to the left side.” I danced with my motorcycle, and the feeling
was better than melted chocolate on my tongue.
Some curves required me to angle my bike with such a tilt I scraped my foot pegs. Seeing sparks fly up on my boots gave me goose bumps, and I hooted with glee.

The twists, turns, and switchbacks of the mountains we’d already traveled through prepared us well, too. The ride through the Great Smoky Mountains National Forest was a dream. Indiana didn’t have curves and mountains like these. The beauty was more than my eyes could take in. I wanted to stop and soak in the landscape. But we needed to return home within a week’s time because Lily was scheduled to work,
so tarrying beside waterfalls wasn’t an option.

We rode on US 129 and headed for the North Carolina border.

Opal went at a fair pace—no lower than the speed limit.

We pulled over twice for race bikes.

I wanted to see Opal’s face to know if she was
finally enjoying herself, but she stayed ahead of me at a good clip and even scraped her foot pegs once or twice.

The switchbacks I’d been terribly fearful of were more fun than a carnival ride. I wished we had them in Indiana. The closest thing to a switchback there? An illegal U-turn. But I gave Indiana credit for teaching me to ride on her straight, empty, country roads. The
y had served me well as a beginning rider.

We reached the end of the main part of the course and parked at the Deal’s Gap store along with dozens of bikers congratulating one another on their successful ride.

Opal’s grin was the brightest.

I gave her a big squeeze. “See? You did it!”

She held her hands out in front of me. “Look. I’m a nervous wreck. But you know what? Scaring the pants off yourself is
fun
!”

We all agreed.

Opal pointed to a tree dripping with assorted bike parts.
“What on earth is that?”

Lily threw her arm around Opal’s shoulder and chuckled. “That, my dear, is the Tree of Shame. And guess what? Your little Rebel isn’t on it.”

Reba chuckled, helping Timmy off the back of her bike. “People who crash on The Dragon hang what’s left of their bikes on that tree.”

Lily leaned over and spoke into Opal’s ear, “That is, if they walk away.”

We all walked toward the memorial tree in silence.

Reba pointed to a signature on a gas tank. “If accident victims make it out alive, they sign the parts, too
.”

I gasped. “That’s kind of morbid
.”

Even Timmy scowled and looked serious. “Morbid,” he repeated my words and walked around the tree looking at all the parts. I wondered if he understood why the parts were there. He seemed to understand more than he could tell us.

Lily shrugged. “At least they have a sense of humor about it.”

Opal still hadn’t said anything.

“What’s the matter Opal?” Reba shoved her playfully. “You have nothing to worry about. You don’t go fast enough to make it onto the Tree of Shame.”

Opal stuck her tongue out.

I laughed. “Well, I don’t know about you guys, but I’m starved. And thirsty. Let’s eat.”

Timmy nodded. “Eat, eat. Opal not fast.”

We all laughed, and Reba roared the loudest. “Lunch is on me, Opal. You did great.”

“She really did.” Lily hugged Opal.

We were all proud of her. And ourselves. The Lady Eels cheered and high-fived one another. Today there was victory in the camp.

“It wasn’t as bad as I thought.” Opal grinned ear to ear.

We headed into the diner and gift shop. Bikers from all over the world sat around swapping stories and celebrating their experiences on the famed Dragon. There were sports bikes, scooters, and cruisers like ours.

I took a bite of my cheese hot dog. “Something I’ve noticed,” I spoke through a mouthful of food, like my mother taught me not to. “Bikers are so nice to one another.”

Opal nodded. “I’ve noticed that, too. I used to be scared of them. But they’ve turned out to be great folks.”

Reba nodded. “There’s an unwritten biker code that says we’re all family. In the old days, we had to make it on our own against mainstream society. We needed to stick together to make it.”

I pondered this. “Kind of like Christians in Jesus’s time.”

Lily nodded. “Yeah. That’s how the church is supposed to be.”

“Are there other unspoken rules?” I was curious about this code thing.

Reba nodded. “Yup.”

Opal plunked down her drink. “Like what?”

“Let me see…” Reba munched on an onion ring. “Oh, just common sense stuff like be nice to kids and animals. Don’t cheat with another man’s old lady…”

“I hate that term.” I glared.

“It’s a term of endearment in the biker community.” Reba popped another onion ring in her mouth.

“Well, if Aaron ever calls me his old lady, I’ll have to pray through it.”

Opal giggled. “Can you imagine him using the term ‘old lady’ in a sermon?”

I held up my hands. “Oh, please, no. There’d definitely be a board meeting over that. Not because people would be concerned about me, but because the women in the church wouldn’t want their husbands calling them that— and I don’t blame them.”

I looked over at Timmy who had stuffed himself with hotdogs and onion rings. I had to order extra hotdogs for him since he couldn’t eat bread. The hotdogs weren’t all that good for him, either, and he shouldn’t have eaten the coating on the onion rings, but this was a special day for us. Maybe eating them today wouldn’t hurt.

We downed our fried chicken strips and onion rings and complained later about heartburn as we shopped for T-shirts, dragon stickers, and patches to prove we’d passed this rite of passage as bikers.

Patches still reminded me of being in Girl Scouts. I giggled to myself when I bought mine
and Timmy’s. I bought Aaron and the boys Deal’s Gap T-shirts. The one I bought for myself said, “I Tamed The Dragon,” and pictured a tough type gal showing her muscles.
My last purchase was a little reflective dragon for the back of my helmet.

Reba paid the cashier. “It’s getting close to dark. We don’t want to be on these mountain roads when the sun goes down. You can’t see a thing and all sorts of deer, bear, turkeys, wild boars…”

“Wild boars?”
I know my eyes grew wide.

“Bear?” Lily’s eyes rounded to golf ball size
.

“Deer?” Opal’s eyes grew to the size of soft balls. She groaned. “That’s it. I’m staying here tonight.”

Reba laughed and slapped her leg.

Timmy did, too. “I’m staying here tonight,” he said.

Which made us laugh all the more.
We walked outdoors and began loading our saddle bags with our purchases.

Reba helped Timmy with his helmet. “We can stay at the Switchback Inn in Robbinsville. It’s only about 25 miles away.”

Opal didn’t bother putting on sunblock. “I’m outta here. I’m not sticking around to meet any of those critters o’ your’n.”
She had picked up her Kentucky accent again full throttle on our way to The Dragon. Her reclaimed country drawl was adorable.

“Opal, I thought you were Norwegian,” I teased.

“Only half of me on my daddy’s side. My mama’s Scots-Irish from the Appalachian Mountains. Might even be a little Melungeon in there, too, someplace.”

“Melungeon?” I asked.

“Long story. I’ll tell ya later. Let’s roll!
”

As we pulled out to head toward Robbinsville, I turned for one last glance at where I’d been. I, Kirstie Donovan, pastor’s wife of little old Eel Falls First Independent Christian Community Church, fearlessly tamed the famous
Dragon
—the nation’s number one motorcycling and sports car road.

If only Aunt Mary could see me now.

21

Usually, we all had to wait for Opal. We’d never seen her pull her helmet and gloves on so fast.
Our kickstands flew up, and we rode down Highway 129 wrapped in the beauty of a cotton-candy pink sunset. It was cooling-off time in the mountains and instead of sweltering, we stayed comfortable in our jackets and helmets.

Curve after curve and switchback after switchback,
we tried not to get separated.

The beauty of these mountains was almost distracting.

I couldn’t help but marvel how the glaciers had carved them and how lavishly God decorated their elegant curves.
I hadn’t told Opal this, but I secretly wished to see a bear or boar. I’d never seen one in the wild before.

But I hoped to see one in the woods—not on the road. The thought of a wild animal running out in front of me on the road scared me more than passing a semi-truck. I’d seen too many accidents in Indiana due to hitting deer. Unpredictable critters scared me more than crazy drivers.

We rode about five miles when I noticed I could no longer see Lily and Reba. It was hard to stay together in the mountains. We took the switchbacks at differing speeds, and once someone got a little bit ahead, you couldn’t see around the mountain to know how far behind you were.

I’d let myself get lost in my thoughts about our trip, how much I’d grown as a rider, and Timmy’s joy riding on the back of Reba’s Goldwing.

I rounded a switchback and slammed on my brakes.
It was a dumb thing to do, stopping in the middle of the road like that. If there had been traffic, someone could have plowed me down. But my instincts overtook my sensibilities. My limbs refused to move. Fear prickled down my neck and into my lower limbs. I shivered and was too afraid to
pull off to the side of the road. And I couldn’t believe my eyes
.

The biggest gorilla-man I’d ever seen stood in front of Opal.
Its musty, indescribably awful smell wafted back to where I sat stone still.

“
Sasquatch?” My voice emerged as a whisper.

I don’t know how long I sat there frozen to my bike, but it felt like hours before the creature let out a blood-curdling howl and ran into the woods.

Opal screamed.

It was only after I finished screaming that I noticed Opal had blown a tire.

I finally thawed my limbs and rode to where Opal sat transfixed. “Are you OK?” My lips moved, but no sound came out.

“Kirstie?” Opal screamed.

“I’m right here.” Startled at my own voice, I
pulled up and touched her shoulder.

“Was that what I think it was?”
Opal kept staring at the spot where the Sasquatch disappeared.

“I have no idea…”
I took off my helmet and slapped myself. Was I dreaming?

Opal and I screamed again. If our bone-chilling screams didn’t scare the Bigfoot, or whatever it was, further away, nothing would.
We looked at each other.

“Maybe it was someone dressed in a suit, jumping out to scare bikers.”

I could tell Opal didn’t believe that any more than I did.

Without a word, we walked our motorcycles to a wide pull off area on the shoulder and sat on the guardrail.

There weren’t any other bikes on the road. No one passed by. Not even a car or truck. We were stuck here on the mountain alone—with a Yeti.

Finally, I spoke
, “My legs are shaking.”

Opal looked back at the forest’s edge. “My eyelashes are shaking.”

We sat a little longer in silence.

Opal squeaked out her next words. “Are you kidding me? No one will believe us
.”

I wondered if my face looked as pale as hers. “Maybe we shouldn’t tell them. Maybe we should just leave this part out.”

“I think he wanted to help me. He came out from behind the trees when my tire blew, and I almost lost control of my bike. The only reason I managed to stop was because he stood in front of me and reached his arms out.”