Rider's Roost. Ferguson, NC. 2015. (by Jen Keller Skarsaune)

Almost every year for the past 12 years on a weekend in June I have found myself at the Rider’s Roost Campground in Ferguson, NC. It is nestled in the foothills of the Appalachian Mountains and surrounded by great motorcycling roads… and also some dirt roads if you get far enough off the beaten path. It is often the case that you set out from the Roost with a group of riders who have no idea where they are going but someone claims the lead and you just hope like hell that this really is going to be the short ride you intended to take. Then you find yourself on some kind of crazy adventure that becomes a half a day excursion that, without a recalculating gps, you may never return from and you are just elated that when someone’s bike breaks down it happens after finding civilization again. This was the story when I pulled into the liquor store parking lot, pulling the trailer, to load up Vince’s bike. His chain broke and put a hole in the case, 20 minutes from my house. After many times being on the other end of such a phone call it was actually quite nice being the one coming to the rescue. Chuck and I hauled Vince’s bike back to the Roost while Vince rode bitch behind Jay. So memories are made, and each year as we reminisce, we all laugh. There is a lot of laughter at the Roost. Smiles and hugs and true friendships. Every year it fills me up, it makes me all warm and fuzzy inside, and then it is over until the following summer. I have to think there will always be a "next summer at the Rider’s Roost".