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Mr. Michigan,only to receive a loud honk from his horn. By the time that the fifth biker in our group. a really nice New York guy named Rob Doyle, went by our road block friend on the outside of a right-hander, with Doyle's girlfriend perched on the back of his loaner C BR600F4i, Mr. Michigancompletely lost it, no t only going for the unceremonious double honk but also swinging as far to the left of the road as he could in a vain attempt to block Doyle's re-entry into the lane. At that point, I just figured that the guy was so far off line that I could just drop to the apron of the right-hander and squeak past him on the extreme right edge of the road, so I did, blasting by before he even knew I was behind him. That did it. As I sped away, I could almost hear the loud pinging inside his brain and see smoke wafting fro m under his chinstrap. And, oh yes, the chase was on. It wouldn't have been much of one - Mr. Michigan disappearing fro m my rearview within only a few curves - except that we were almost at the end of the route, and as we ro lled down the last hill into Deal's Gap , Mr. Michigan caught back up to our group, tailing us as we pulled off the highway and into the Crossroads of Time, a gas station/diner/motel that was the finish checkpoint for the ride. I knew trouble was co ming. but I co uldn't help but laugh w hen the guy nearly d umped his bike while following us through the wet grass that lined the knoll in fron t of the motel parking lot. Sure enough, he hopped off his motorcycle and headed directly for me, the smallest in sta ture and thu s presumably the least menaci ng. "What the @#$% do you guys thinkyou're doing passing me likeyou did?!" Mr, Michigan bellowed. "I know you are better riders than me, and you have faster bikes, but that doesn't give you the right to @#$%ing pass me like you did'" Doyle was the first to wou ld be that - until five minutes later, when Mr. Michigan came back and started to jaw at us again. No w it was my turn to ping. "You just hold it right the re," I said. "Y u made your o point. and my friend attempted to apologize to you. You told him to @#$% off. so now you can." "We ll, I just wanted you to know that I think your bike is leaking oil!" "Yeah, sure it is," I said. "It's a brand new Honda and it leaks oil... ." I never even bothered to check his ridiculous claim. And that was that . The brief episode was unable to spoil an otherwise awesome ride, especially when we went back the same way that we had come. mean ing another run on the Tail of the Dragon , this time even less interrupted by traffic. As they say, a good time was had by all - except Mr. Michigan. But I'm sure that's just o ne of thousands of memorable tales that folks to ok home with them from the Honda Hoot. Scott Rousseau The stopping point for the Aprilia'sponsored Sportbike Ride was at Deal's Gap, North Carolina, population six and home of the Tree of Shame, which contains trashed bits from cars and motorcycles that have navigated U.S. 129 unsuccessfully. attempt to make peace with Mr. Michigan, which surprised me. considering that Doyle is a New Yorker. Apologizing if "we scared you out there," Doyle attempted to shake the guy's hand. Mr. Michigan wasn't having any of it. "No, #$%& you guys!" he said, walking away. And that, we thought, www.cyclenews.com CYCLE NEWS • AUGUST 18,2004 39