Trees, Glorious Trees

Another fine day in the redwood forest. Along the way, we shared curvy Kings Mountain Road with what appeared to be a local chapter of the BMW Club. One M3 was stranded on Skyline, more or less off the road (but blocking half of the intersection), hood raised and all four shiny tailpipes silenced. Should you find yourself in a similar situation one day, do turn on your emergency flashers.

It seemed that Kings Mountain was exacting its toll today. On the way down, I passed a motorcyclist walking his machine down the hill. "Wish it had pedals," he remarked.

Bracketed by these breakdowns, we enjoyed our up-and-down day in the trees. My hands started going numb as I descended Star Hill—not from gripping the brakes, but from the chill. I have enjoyed this cool summer.

Waiting for my ride buddies before descending Kings Mountain, I watched a timid Jaguar make the turn from Skyline. By the time we were ready to roll, I had forgotten the sedan ... until I caught him, never taking his foot off his brakes. Descending at his speed was painful, and inhaling goodness-knows-what from his brake pads was unhealthy. Since it was not safe to pass him, I pulled off the road to grow some space between us.

Pausing to regroup at the base of Kings, I smiled when I saw the guys from Plus 3 Network approaching. My Plus 3 vest not only kept me warm today, it earned me three high-fives as they cruised past. "Looks great on you!," one shouted. Orange, yes.