The plans for this began last October after the True Grits fun run in Georgia (do the Google, it's great fun when grown men act like children on minis). It may have been initiated after a large steak rinsed by an adult beverage- or two. The conversation went something to the effect of: We need to ride part of the TAT. But any pussy can do it on a dual sport or adventure bike. So let's make some rules that should ensure it's an epic (or disastrous) trip. The rules we settled on: bike older than 1979, not Japanese or BMW (if you rode a BMW there were special requirements mandated for each fuel stop that I'll not share here- something linked to gender), and no trucks. The no trucks rule eliminated a small dirt bike from pre-1979 because we'd all high tail it home from our end point on the slab since we actually have jobs to return to. The intent was to have about 4 guys, all who followed the rules. The actuality was three "guys", two of which followed the law, and one rebel. The lawless fellow rode his 75,000 mile 2000 VFR that he swears is the best bike God endowed man to build- though not all share his high opinion of the obese gear whining well rounded sow. The lawful men, yes men, rode a 1977 Moto Guzzi Lemans and a 1979 Harley Ironhead (isn't that fun to say?) Sportster- the Sportster made back when men didn't buy them for their ladies. We began from Andrews, NC the day after the eclipse. Which was good timing since the guy from Raleigh, and me from Birmingham would be there anyway. The poor slob from Ohio had to ride the Guzzi down against the mass traffic exodus after the lights turned back on post eclipse. In all fairness VFR and Ironhead guys used trucks to get to Andrews- a direct rule violation. But I'll be darned if i was going to follow my wife, in my truck, from B'ham to Andrews for some silly rule. And Mr. VFR felt the same about coming from Raleigh. We departed August 22 at about noon. I was ready at 7:00 am, but there seemed to be some phenomenon holding the other two in bed late into the morning. And then we had to address the Guzzi Gremlin that thrived on the nutrition provided by ignition coils zipped tied in places that got hotter than is healthy- evidently. First stop was in Andrews to install a new coil and to buy a spare. So it indeed began in epic fashion, 12 miles before the first repair.