I’d spent the morning chasing fog around Two Wheels of Suches, and by the time I pulled onto Georgia 60, the sun had burned most of it off. On paper, the day was simple. I was riding from one well-known motorcycle place in the South to another, from Suches up to Deals Gap Motorcycle Resort, and Georgia 60 definitely delivered along the way.

One thing I keep noticing out here is that there aren’t any truly desolate sections of asphalt. Out west, you can be tens of miles from anything, but back east, people live everywhere. Driveways hide behind turns, and cars pop out when you’re not looking. There’s a tightness and compactness to this part of the country that changes how you ride, not just what you see.

Georgia 60 with it’s technical twists and turns rolled into western North Carolina, and the day started to feel a lot like the ride down from Asheville. I was balancing tight canyon carving with all-out freeway, using federal highways as corridors to get from here to there. Unlike out west, I always smile when one strip of pavement out here is four different roads at once: 64, 74, 19, and 129 all commingled into one strip of asphalt in western North Carolina.

By lunch, I’d rolled into Robbinsville and found Dragon Pit Barbecue. The Southern-style tacos came loaded with fried shrimp and brisket, and the side was deep-fried macaroni and cheese shaped like tater tots, which is definitely something you don’t get back home. It was a solid nine out of ten. The only thing keeping it from a ten was Pepsi in the fountain instead of Coke. How is North Carolina Pepsi country so close to Atlanta?

On my way out after mentioning Deal’s Gap, the two ladies working the counter both looked me in the eye and said the same thing. “Be careful.”

Here’s where I have to own that my navigational prowess fell short.. I thought the Dragon was the stretch between Robbinsville and Deals Gap, and my plan was to check in at the resort, ride the Dragon fresh in the morning, and loop NC 28 to the resort. It didn’t take long to learn that the Dragon is actually the 11 miles north of the resort, running from the state line into Tennessee. If I was going to ride it at all, it was going to be today.

The climb up US 129 on the North Carolina side set the tone. An oil tanker truck lumbered over the center line on an already tight road, and I tucked as far right as I dared. A little farther on, the road passes Cheoah Dam, a 225-foot wall of concrete built in 1919 that later showed up in The Fugitive.

For the record, I’ve learned to embrace the nickname Capt’n Slowpoke. I’m not looking to set any land speed records, and I’m definitely not looking to put the bike down thousands of miles from home. I’m just here to enjoy the ride. Even in the Bay Area, when people learn I’m from back east, the question always comes up: “Have you ridden the Dragon yet?”

The road itself is pretty great. It’s also massively unforgiving, with steep drop-offs just past the shoulder, and sharp drop-offs even where there is a shoulder. Grass nibbles at the fog line on this road. On most of those 11 miles, if you leave the pavement, something bad is going to happen to you. It’s not forgiving like a track is.

Then there’s the tomfoolery and douchebaggery. Riders on high-performance sport bikes don’t always know how to control their machines or speed. Bikes whine, cars squeal their tires around corners, and big, lumbering vehicles can’t seem to stay on their side of the center line. I saw sporty cars, everyday passenger cars, and even a dually truck or two, all running the same curves as the motorcycles.

Someone once told me how commercial the whole experience is, and they weren’t wrong. Three different photography vendors work the road, all competing for your business: 129 Slayer, Killboy, and US 129 Photos. I bought from all three, and I learned something the hard way. Killboy’s shots have almost four times the resolution of the others for the same price. The other two got nice shots, but they don’t come close to 4K, which makes them a lot harder to show on the Frame TV at home. If I’d known that, I would have only bought from Killboy. He’s the original, and his work is worth paying for.

In some ways, the Dragon isn’t about riding at all. It’s about performing, with the reputation, the photographers, and the motorcycle culture all watching.

I rode it both ways, since there wasn’t a good way to come in from the north. I turned around at Tabcat Creek, where the curves ease out along Chilhowee Lake. While I was stopped at the north end, I glanced down at the dash and saw that the GS had finally rolled past 4,000 miles on this trip. Somehow, that’s about twice the mileage I’d expected, and I was a little bit bewildered and a little bit humbled.

Heading back south, the Tennessee Department of Transportation greets you with a sign warning motorcycles of a high crash area, plastered with stickers. It reminded me of Highway 49 in Northern California, with Dead Man’s Curves and the Little Dragon further south. The difference is that nobody’s really out on Highway 49. This is a highly trafficked road with all sorts of yahoos.

I was on alert and tense the whole time. I didn’t know the road, the consequences of a mistake were high, and I had to manage everybody else’s mistakes too. That’s true on any piece of pavement anywhere in the world, but it just felt different here.

By my count, that’s 318 curves times two, plus one for the turnaround, which makes 637 curves in a single afternoon. The next time someone in the Bay Area asks if I’ve ridden the Dragon, I can finally say yes.

Deals Gap Motorcycle Resort sits right at the start of it all, where NC 28 meets US 129. In some ways, it has what I’d wished Two Wheels of Suches had the night before. The motel rooms are clean but basic, with small and required touches like soap and shampoo. The grill was up and running, so dinner was right there, and the little gift shop had the magnets and stickers I’d come for.

Out front, the Tree of Shame hangs heavy with broken mirrors, levers, and bodywork from riders whose day went worse than mine. Across the street, a giant dragon stands guard outside the Tail of the Dragon store, next to a sign announcing 318 curves in 11 miles. I took the obligatory selfie.

After dark, people gathered around the fire. Roland is from Mississippi, rides a Honda, and has a Harley somewhere on his motorcycle roadmap. I asked him what I should see in Mississippi on my eventual trip out west, and he gave me a wry smile. “Just take the interstate from Alabama to Texas. Nothing really to see. That’s why I come up here.”

Later in the evening, I met Mark and Frank. Mark lives just south of Atlanta, and we traded Atlanta stories for a while. Frank lives in Birmingham and is the head chef at Barber Motorsports, where he’s seen all kinds of crazy things over the years cooking for some of motorcycling’s biggest royalty. Mark got the postcard series right away: what I’m doing, why I’m doing it, and how I’m spending my year. I’ll take the kudos.

Late at night, a younger crew rolled in, hard riders from Florida, Baltimore, and one other place I can’t recall now.

Looking back through the photos, I get the appeal. The road isn’t unique, and there are plenty of tight, twisty pieces of asphalt in this part of the world that are every bit as good. This one just has the marketing machine behind it. I’m glad I rode it anyway.

I did find a postcard for Dad at Deals Gap, and it was a North Carolina card, far better than the Elon University card I’d picked up earlier. Most of the Dragon runs through Tennessee, but the resort sits on the North Carolina side of the line, and that’s where I was sleeping. I wasn’t going to settle for a Tennessee postcard while I was still standing in North Carolina.

Everybody I talked to that night said the same thing. “You’ve got to do the Dragon, but the Skyway is where it’s at.” So here’s to a good beer, some good conversation, and tomorrow, the Cherohala Skyway.