Blue Ridge Parkway - Day 3 - July 4, 2022

As we ate breakfast at the motel, I remarked at how good it is to be with people who speak the language - the local patois.  It is like going to Paris with my daughter, who is fluent in French. 

I have been trying to speak with locals in the way Magellan and Buttercup do, and it is simply not working. I don't get that same engagement, response or connection. They, however, believe this is hysterically funny and tell me that I speak like a yankee, and that is never going to change. But they did offer me language lessons. Buttercup told me that I am his only yankee friend. I don't know if I should be flattered or horrified.

The morning ride was fantastic - black ribbons through green byways connected by sleepy little towns. It is the way Harleys should to be ridden. 

We rode down the length of Kentucky, on the Country Music Highway, through Pikeville. I had a case in Pikeville once, and was told it was a terrible jurisdiction. I thought the federal magistrate was terrific, and we did well. So I've always had fond memories of Pikeville.

Pikeville is also the focal point for the feud between the Hatfields and McCoys. https://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Hatfield–McCoy_feud Talk about bad neighbors! Maybe they are yankees!  

We left Kentucky and went to the Carter Family Fold in Hiltons, Virginia. Supposedly, they are the inventors of Bluegrass music. 



They have a mini concert on Saturday nights. $1.50 per person. Pretty cheap entertainment. 


For lunch, we stopped into a local restaurant. They sure like their Bluegrass music in this part of the world. 

But the best entertainment was when the check came, in a crowded restaurant, and having the option to pay the check at your table on your phone using a QR code. 

There is a lot of brain power being expended on the payment of this check.



Buttercup never even tried. He paid at the register, and we met him outside 30 minutes later. 

We are in Cherokee, North Carolina tonight, having ridden 360 miles today. Tomorrow, we begin the object of our journey - the Blue Ridge Parkway. 


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