Ride report proper starts (for those of you who are impatient) on Page 3! Road updates between here and there. 20 longs years. Two decades. Dos década. That's how long it's been since Malibu_Wifey and I have been camping together. Oh, I can get her to jump on the back of the motorsykle on a moment's notice and log a thousand miles pillion with ne'er a whine or whimper. But that's staying in bed and breakfasts or quaint hotels along the way. I still remember that fateful camping trip long ago--rained the whole time, it was cold, and couldn't find enough dry kindling to fill a matchbox. "I think I'm done camping," was all she said. The planning is done, and the bike is loaded. Too loaded. But I fear those Big Agnes memory foam ensconced air mattresses may be the only thing between me and a subpoena of income from a divorce attorney law firm named Weiner and Cox. But I need not get ahead of myself here. Today it's empty nest syndrome. The kids have moved out--oh, I'm not worried, I'm sure they'll move back in one or two more times. But for now, the house feels empty. So when I told Malibu_Wifey I was going to take a bike trip to Florida, she said she was going too. I parried, but I'm doing it on the cheap--I'm camping off the bike. Roughing it. Cowboy camping... she said, "Cowgirl camping, because I'm going too!" So much for cheap. New sleep pads, new bags, can't fit all that gear... new Wolfman dry duffel, give me the mongo one! How about a new camp light?! Now don't misread me here. She's not high maintenance, demanding, or difficult in the least. And I want to KEEP IT that way! Wish us luck, first stop, Suches, GA. And yes, I know, the Smoky Mountains are a couple hundred miles out of the way. But she luvs those mountains.