On a beautiful July afternoon in Munhall, I gazed at the love of my life.

She is slender, beautiful and, dare I say, well built. I stared a moment longer, pushed my girlfriend aside and then climbed aboard my 2001 Harley Davidson Dyna Wide Glide.

She had already been loaded with the bare essentials I needed for a journey through the Appalachians and beyond. She and I were ready to set off for Mount Washington and pick up Becky, my "backseater," for the journey. She is a veteran of these trips and an openly Type A person (balances my Type L) by nature. She had instructed me on what I would need for the trip, including how many Fruit of the Looms I could take.

We had only two things to accomplish. First, get to "The Dragon" in Tennessee. It's 318 turns in 11 miles and a road well respected for its fun and danger. And, the second part of the plan was to have no plan. My father was a truck driver, so we always had to "make great time" when we took our annual summer vacation to Florida. On this trip, there would be no making great time; in fact, we preferred to make bad time. When you make bad time, you simply wake up in the morning, pick a road, not an interstate, and go. Your reward for this is that you run into "places."

Places like War, W.Va. You see a town that once was something and is now nothing but a shell, including abandoned businesses, old rusty cars that might not run, and old rundown houses that might still have occupants.

You see the people who appreciate the things those who are "making great time" miss.

You run into Louise's Restaurant in North Carolina. The thing about Louise's is that your table sits in one county, the food is prepared in another county and you pay Louise at the cash register in yet another. Louise's was built at the very point where three North Carolina counties meet and is on the National Registry of Historical Places.

When you have no particular place to go you might wind up in a particularly peculiar place like Gatlinburg/Pigeon Forge, Tenn. Imagine riding through the Smokey Mountains, fresh air, and scenery on top of scenery and then lo and behold, you hit cheesy tourist trap USA -- in the middle of Tennessee! Ironically, this was the first time it rained on us and I think it was punishment from above for coming to this place. Locals told us to skip Dollywood in Pigeon Forge, and we followed that advice. After all, we had our own two-wheeled amusement park ride. We (I) found a great hotel at a greatly reduced price in Pigeon Forge, and Becky began to embrace my "Hungarian Way" of traveling. You see, nomad blood flows through my veins, we travel by nature and we find great deals.

You run into "The Dragon" on the North Carolina-Tennessee border. It is motorcycle nirvana.

It is part of a ride that includes the dam that was used in the Harrison Ford movie "The Fugitive." The road itself challenges the rider as much as he wants to be challenged. Many do not respect the Dragon's power and feel its wrath, often paying in broken bones and even death. There is a memorial tree decorated with parts from wrecked bikes and cars.

Obviously, this danger creates part of the thrill. My Dyna Wide Glide is not the most nimble bike, and at one point, the Dragon reminded me that it was in charge as I scraped the frame and lost control momentarily. The scuff on my bike is a badge of honor that reminds me this Dragon cannot be tamed. After we rode it three times I still refused to buy a shirt that said I tamed it. I felt like I survived it. The Dragon was great, but US 16 in West Virginia, which doesn't have a slick nickname, was a better ride.

Our tale could go on with stories about the people we met and the things we saw. There was the huge sewer drainage pipe that Virginia uses as a tunnel, and the Kenworth truck grill (and the rig and trailer attached to it) that greeted us on a hairpin turn of The Dragon, and then the flying speed limit sign that almost ended all of our days. And I will tell you that -- even though our backsides begged for a break when we were 30 miles from anywhere -- the Blue Ridge Parkway just left us breathless.

As with all good things, this ride did come to an end 1,603 miles after it started. From the time it started until the time it ended, it was one thrill after another. For eight days, we were modern-day cowboys on the steel horse we rode, and as corny as that sounds, I mean it. For those who trailer their bike or "make great time" each summer, you will never realize how alone you can still be in a world with cell phones, BlackBerrys and the like. I won't bore you with the old mantra, "If I have to explain it, you won't understand it." Rather, I invite those who hear the call and have never done it, to get on and just ride even if you don't know where you're riding to.