Two Days, Three Riders, and One Moka Pot: Motor Therapy on the Skyline Drive

📍 Ride Summary – Shenandoah Trip, July 18–19, 2025

Total distance: 543 mi
Total time: 1 day 9h 17m
Moving time: 12h 37m
Stopped time: 20h 40m
Average speed: 16.3 mph
Average moving speed: 43.0 mph
Max speed: 105 mph 😱
Max elevation: 3,711 ft
Min elevation: -33 ft
Total ascent: 21,574 ft
Total descent: 21,587 ft
Area covered: 6,611 square miles

📌 Interactive Map: Click here to view the route

Preparing, Riding, Writing: the eternal dilemma of a Motor Therapist

I’ve never quite figured out which part I love most: planning a motorcycle trip, riding it… or writing about it on this blog. I always get lost between maps, dreams, and curves, as if they were the holy trinity of motor therapy.

Planning is always exciting. I spend days arguing with Google Maps, ChatGPT, Gemini, and even myself. All in search of that perfect road, the most wrapping bend, the feeling of remoteness… or simply far enough to drown the daily grind in the wind and freedom of the ride.

This time it was a two-day mini trip, born between coffee breaks at the office. Gokhan and I, still drunk with memories from our last adventure, didn’t need much convincing. The real twist: Pep, a.k.a. Indiana PepJones, was finally joining, last time he ditched us at the very last minute. But now, he was in.

The real miracle was that all three of us were free. Gokhan’s wife, a nephrologist, is doing her residency in Missouri, and the kids are with the grandparents in Turkey. My wife Maggie, a doctor as well, was on hospital duty. Pep… well, no one knows how he escaped, but as long as there’s no legal notice, it’s a go.

The (mis)adventures begin

The night before, each of us plays to our strengths. I, Ezio, focus on the route. I prepare a perfect GPS track, convert it into 18 different formats, argue with BaseCamp, and after multiple failed attempts, I finally upload it to my Garmin Zumo. Success! Then I move to loading the bike: BMW R1150GS, massive panniers, tent, sleeping bag, stove, and of course, my faithful Moka pot.

Gokhan, traumatized by our last rain ride, goes all in on waterproof gear: new rain suit, shoe covers, and a Buddhist-level confidence that he’ll stay dry. Spoiler: he won’t.

Pep turns his bike into a mobile camping store. Food, gear, gadgets, everything but the kitchen sink. But before we even roll out of his garage, his load collapses. Not on the road, in the garage. Not a promising start.

I proudly stare at my Garmin… then press a mysterious button. Poof. My entire route vanishes. Just like that. All that effort, gone.

Lift-off!

One hour late, we meet in the parking lot of an auto parts store. A symbolic omen? Who knows. I introduce our latest gadget: helmet-to-helmet walkie-talkies. I’m in the lead, Pep is the tail (though we’re only three). Earpieces that hurt, a wire with a button, SWAT team vibes. Does it work? Kinda.

The destination: Loft Mountain Campground along Skyline Drive, about 300 miles away. We start off on US 460, though we were supposed to pass through Smithfield. Damn Garmin button. Every turn, I relay like a pro: “In 3 miles, turn right on Smith Road… over.” Pep starts off responsive, then just says “got it”, then silence. He blames static. I suspect he just wanted peace.

After an hour, Pep’s massive backpack breaks him. Gokhan steps in like a hero and volunteers to carry it. While he’s at it, he also takes the sleeping bag and give to me. . Pep is now light as a feather, or at least ivy.

Rain, laughs, and shoe-aquariums

We’re cruising through beautiful roads, wind in our faces… then comes the rain. We suit up like Michelin men. Gokhan beams in his new gear. Ten minutes later: biblical flood. I’m riding with my head out the windshield just to see.

Once it clears, we stop. 35°C (95°F), humid like a jungle. Gokhan realizes his shoes are filled with water, he wore the covers backwards. Laughs all around.

Back on the road. Thirty minutes later: another storm. We stop, suit up again. The efficiency of a Formula 1 pit crew, minus the actual efficiency.

Campground & Chestnuts

We reach Skyline Drive. Everyone gets in for free, except me. $25 down the drain. The campground is stunning and soaking wet. Showers are far, and cost $5 for 10 minutes. No one says it, but we all know: we’ll be proudly stinky for two days.

The evening offers a ranger talk about how American chestnut trees went extinct. Fascinating, but cold. Time to retreat to our tents. I can’t wait to crash.

At 5:40 AM, I wake up and find Pep had laid his clothes over the tent to dry. It rained all night.

The return

We pack up and hit the road. 80 miles of pure Skyline Drive await us, clouds, curves, mist. It’s magical. Nobody complains about wet feet. That’s how beautiful it is.

We eventually hit the expressway. And guess what? Gokhan suddenly knows how to ride like a pro, he positions himself perfectly, speeds up, and becomes the leader of the pack.

Maybe… just maybe… he’s become a real biker?