Day 1 - Chapel Hill to Rutherfordton
Today began like most days do not: up at 5 am, staring at a scooter in the pouring rain, wondering if this trip was a good idea. Most adventures aren't, but that hasn't stopped anyone before.
My favorite personal fault is that when I commit to doing something, I do it regardless if it makes sense or not. Accordingly, I pressed the button to bring the BMW CE-04 to life as thunder reverberated across my recently adopted hometown of Chapel Hill, NC.
My primary goals for today were the Town Creek Indian Site, lunch with a friend, and a quaint bed and breakfast in Rutherfordton, NC - some 200 miles direct - but the straightest routes in life are always the dullest.
Flashes & Floods
It is raining absolutely cats, dogs, and wombats. I'm glad I loaded the bike up the night before, even if it means I have to unload the rain jacket and rain pants as the thunder rumbles in the background. In the pitch-black rain, I head, nervous enough that I accidentally trigger ABS before making it out onto the main road. I'm a bit more careful as I wade through downtown Chapel Hill, the UNC campus, and onto 15-501.
As I pull onto the 4-lane highway south toward Pittsboro, the weather intensifies. Lightning is dancing around me in all directions, and the rain hits the road so hard that it splashes back upwards. Visibility is poor: without my brights on, I have difficulty seeing the lane markings, but due to oncoming traffic, they are off most of the time.
Doubts swirl through my head: is this insanity? Is the reason why lightning strikes rarely hit humans because most of them are smart enough to stay home when bolts are visible? Is 1.7mm of tire tread enough to avoid hydroplaning? I pull into a gas station for a moment - if only to put a pair of waterproof socks on.
If I hang out here for even 30 minutes, it will blow my schedule off course, so after a minute or two, I suck it up and hit the road again. I tell myself that as long as I can make it to my charging stop in Goldston, I can hide under a shelter there and delay for a while.
The strength of the storm pulses in and out. My watch is buzzing with notifications, but at this point, I'm not stopping for anything. Pittsboro is a blur. I turn off onto Highway 902 toward Goldston, glad that I had at least rehearsed this section earlier in the week so that I know that the road conditions are good. I'm thankful that the rain keeps the deer off the road at this hour.
Crossing over George's Creek, I suddenly hear a loud "whoosh" sound as my front wheel dives through a stream of water that I never saw. As the water smashes the underside of my bike, the sound reminds me of being inside a loud carwash. It hit so hard that my feet could feel the impact reverberate through the battery pack and the rubber footrest. My speed instantly drops from 40mph to 28mph before the "Throttle it out when in doubt" mantra hits, and I leave the overflowing creek behind me.
I'm so regretting my decision to nix purchasing an Insta360 because even in the dark, the crossing must have looked crazy. The rain begins to let up, but I keep things slow afterward anyways.
I stop off at the Goldston Library to charge: it's only 32 miles from home, but it's precisely on my route, and the next stop is just about at my 65-mile range limit for rural highways. I arrive with 52% - I only need a 5-minute charge to make it to my next stop, but I decided to try waiting out the rain. The library has no covered area, so I hid beneath a tree, and within 25 minutes, the storm finally ended.
# Star: The Geographic Center of the Universe
With the rain halted, I tear out of the parking lot and notice the dawn coming up behind me. My mood improves.
I note that with the rain gone, the deer will come out soon to eat once they've dried off. I'm scared as hell of deer and take special notice whenever I pass through an area with a forest on one side of the road and a field on the other. If a deer can take out Mr. Safety, it can take me out too.
By the time I hit Highway 24 toward Biscoe, the roads have dried off, and I pick up the pace to make up for lost time. The increasing frequency of signs relating to pottery let me know that I'm not far from Seagrove, AKA the "Pottery Capital of the United States." Some miles away from my destination of Star, NC, I get a little reminder of the cost of all that extra velocity.
There is that pernicious little formula that says: the energy required to overcome wind resistance is cubic to velocity. On a two-wheeled EV, even going 5mph over the speed limit has a noticeable impact on the range. Thankfully, my route pulls me off the highway at the next turn and puts me on slower backroads, so I arrive at the charger with 11% left.
I set my rain gear out to dry, set my stopwatch for 45 minutes and begin walking around in search of a bathroom, coffee, and breakfast. At 8 am on a Friday, I already know my best option is a convenience store/gas station a half-mile up the road. The town of Star is small but oozing with character: from the rail yard to the auto shop to the jail. It feels great to be exploring on foot for a change.
At the convenience store, an older gentleman is scratching off what appears to be an unlimited number of lottery tickets. A younger gentleman ahead of me grabs a coffee and lines his pockets with an innumerable amount of half & half containers. I hit the restroom, grabbed a shitty pre-manufactured pastry and a mediocre cup of coffee, and headed to the park across the street to enjoy them.
