The CAMS is a national Capital area `non-club'. There are no dues, no officers, no regulations, and no meetings. Instead, there is a central roster of names on the Internet to which ride dates, Friday lunch get-togethers, and winter-time tech sessions are electronically announced. Last year, the CAMS held a three-day, 700 mile tour of hamlets and towns in Virginia with international names. Eleven CAMS descended on Paris, Moscow, Sparta, Vesuvius, and Warsaw to mention a few of the exotic destinations visited. The ride was planned on secondary and tertiary roads, with the goals of safety, scenery, and consuming massive quantities of food paramount, though not necessarily in that order.

Well, since this formula for success worked so well in 1996, why not again in 1997? This year, planning was a bit more ambitious. The trip, scheduled 16-18 May, was planned to pass through four states: starting and ending in Vienna, Virginia, and passing through Maryland, Delaware, and Pennsylvania.

A diverse crew, including about half of last year's ATW riders, arrived at 0800 at the Amphora Restaurant, a friendly Greek eatery in Vienna. (How and where else would one start an around the world tour?) The Amphora is a wonderful restaurant, meeting all three of the CAMS restaurant criteria: low prices, massive quantities of chow, and good taste. Characteristic of most CAMS rides, there were all types of bikes: four cruisers, two `muscle' bikes, five standards, and four sport bikes. The oldest bike was a pristine 1976 GL 1000, ridden by Ed Shea; the newest was Todd Peer's 1997 ST1100, and the `nicest' was mine, a 1984 V-65 Sabre 1100.

We got under way at 1000, making the most hazardous part of the trip: the Washington beltway to the Woodrow Wilson bridge. Once in Maryland, we headed south on route 210, riding through Silesia and then north on 373 through T.B. (which was not, in fact, named after our own Tod Botcher) where we turned north on rt. 5 to Clinton. The high point of the ride was the Air Force's Thunderbirds fly-by I arranged, in concert with Armed Forces Day, as we skirted Andrews Air Force Base on rt. 273. After a wrong turn (the first of many) on rt. 4, we headed west through Upper Marlboro to Bristol. We followed the exit signs for Bristol and, to our surprise, found that the town had moved a few miles down the road. Rather than searching for it, as we had important things like getting lost still to do, we turned north on 259 (a nice road) and then picked up rt. 2 to Londontown and Annapolis.

Annapolis, with the US Naval Academy, the State Capitol, and busy marinas and shops is a tourist mecca well worth a visit. Trying to get 15 bikes as a group through the city, with its many stop lights and active side streets proved impossible. Being CAMS (i.e., having no contingency plans), we continued in separate wind-blown mini-groups over the Chesapeake Bay on 50/301. We regrouped on an exit ramp at Stevensville and stopped for gas and lunch (not necessarily in that order) so everyone could flame the tour leader.

Waddling out of Ledo's Pizza, we continued east on rt. 50 until we picked up 404 east to Queen Anne. After one of many `foto ops', we continued on 303 south to 309 south through Cordova and back to rt. 50 south. As we neared Easton, 50 becomes very scenic, as do rts. 331 and 16 to Cambridge. Large shade trees line these lovely roads through rolling lush farmland and sleepy villages such as (O little town of) Bethlehem and Preston. Rt. 16 dropped us back on 50 where we headed west to Cambridge. We posed for photos at the `Gardens of Cambridge', which sounds a little better than the outdoor shrubs display in the Wal-Mart parking lot, and then got gas before leaving for what turned out to be the first significant mishap of the trip. [I am not counting Fritz's dropped bike at the Exxon station!]

Although not an `international' city, how could we bypass a place called Crapo, even if we had to ride 75 miles out of our way to get there? We amused ourselves by pronouncing the town's name like it appears (we are easily amused) although some locals told us it is pronounced as "Cray-po". Anyway, we took 16 south to 335 south to 336 east. Unbeknownst to me when I selected the route, the ride on 335 through the Blackwater National Wildlife Refuge was one of the highlights of the ride. There was spectacular scenery, winding roads, abundant wildlife, and the bucolic smells of moss, peat, and rotting wood. At the Crapo post office, we stopped for another foto op. It was approaching 5 p.m. and we were eager to get to our hotel in Salisbury. Unfortunately, Sash Dow's bike liked Crapo so much it didn't want to leave. While the `94 Magna would crank, it wouldn't turn over. The bunch of us had brought enough tools and electronic test equipment to build a nuclear weapon so we set about trying to diagnose the problem (no spark). Finally, when the bike had cooled, it restarted (no, it wasn't the coil) so we continued back to Cambridge on an unnumbered road that took us back into the Refuge and through the villages of Andrews and Steward. The sun was low on the horizon and the warm reds and yellows over the verdant marshes were breathtaking. So, however, were the mosquitoes, which were aggressive, tenacious, and prone to splatter themselves on our bikes, jackets, and visors.

By 7 p.m., we were back in Cambridge. Turning east on rt. 50, we made a "brisk" run through Hebron and Vienna to Salisbury where we had reservations at a local motel. It was dark when we reached Salisbury but it wasn't the darkness that prevented us from finding our motel. Rather, it was the fact that the hotel was actually located in Princess Anne, another 18 miles south on rt. 13 (good one, Steve Beck!). We snaked through Eden and finally pulled into the motel a few minutes before 10 p.m. with 280 miles on our odometers. The restaurants were closed but a few beers and cigars, combined with a lot of male bonding, bad jokes, and lies about motorcycles brought the day to a successful conclusion. But not before Ed Shea (AKA Mr. Plumber) unclogged the toilet. During the course of the ATW, we found Ed to be a man who was always ready to plunge a-head.

Saturday morning was sunny and warm; perfect riding weather for our journeys. Temperanceville, VA, was another town whose name beckoned our curious group. We rode south on 13 through Pocomoke City and 9 miles into Virginia on the DelMarVa Peninsula. Temperanceville is not exactly a thriving megalopolis so 14 (one bike peeled off that morning to head down to Norfolk) motorcycles caused somewhat of a stir: so much so that the local constable parked near the post office (where we had stopped for a few photos) to keep us in view and then followed us out of town. All of us had our eyes glued to our speedometers as we rode north on 13 to rt. 175 (east).

The original route was to motor north into Delaware on rts. 679, 12, and 113. However, when I saw the signs to Chincoteague, I stayed on 175 since I had never been to that scenic place. The rest of the CAMS, following blindly behind me at a safe distance, miraculously showed up there as well. Rt. 175 winds past a Naval and a NASA facility, the latter with a rather interesting museum which includes old rocket boosters and missiles. When we reached Chincoteague, we explored the island briefly and then stopped at the local Coast Guard station, which was giving Armed Forces Day tours. Although some of us were eager to ride, the majority wanted to eat (big surprise) so we stayed at the Guard station and partook of their fund-raising barbecue before returning on 175 and resuming our trip north on the roads noted above. Passing through little towns like Girdletree, MD, where people rocking on whitewashed porches still like to wave at riders, we decided not to stop at Berlin (the Wall must really be down since we didn't see it) because it was getting late.

In Delaware, rt. 113 is an uninspired stretch of road. At Millsboro, we decided to head east briefly on 24 and then north on 30. While this road through farmland was table-top flat, it was not heavily traveled. When we reached Milford, we split into two groups. The first stayed in the Dover area to attend the AMA dirt track races in Harrington. The rest of us turned north on rt. 1 and then west on 12 at Frederica. We rode to Diamond Motorsport (1-800-RIDE-DMS) on rt. 13 in Camden. Sash wanted to check out the Magna, which was tough to get started once already that morning, and Fritz needed to pick up a replacement mirror for his CB 1000. The guys at DMS, and especially Nick Alessandro) were really helpful. Despite the fact that they were closed, they were eager to help an out-of-state rider with mechanical troubles and worked with Sash, even taking a coil off a new Magna to see if it would solve his problem. Alas, the new coil didn't solve the problem so Sash left his bike at DMS and doubled up on the back of John Schaaf's VFR (not a pretty sight). Sash was pretty distraught at having to leave his bike, but not as sad as the rest of us when we found that DMS had hosted a charity bike wash that morning with bikini-clad Hooters girls. The remaining `six bikes that could' continued with a brief practice stop in Wyoming and then rolled through international towns like Dover, Smyrna, and Odessa, enjoying their stately Victorian homes against the setting sun. Just after Boyd's Corner, we rode over an impressive bridge spanning the C&D Canal and then turned west on 72 and west again on rt. 40 through Glasgow on the way to our motel in Elkton, MD. I was disappointed when I didn't see anyone in Glasgow wearing a kilt.

Elkton is a nifty town. Although the streets were rolled up by 8 p.m. when we arrived, the old architecture and lovely, well-manicured homes were a pleasure to see. The most remarkable part, apart from the beer and cigars (again) we consumed in my hotel room once we got settled, was that there was a guy checking in who was indeed wearing a kilt. It was another poignant reminder that one should always be careful for what one asks. Day 2 was a good one, with another 240 miles under our belts.

The weather was threatening when we awoke on Sunday and the Weather Channel was predicting rain to the north. Since we were heading into Pennsylvania, that boded ill for us. After an incredibly greasy breakfast, we rode north on 213, which becomes 841 (a super road) in Pennsylvania, and then west on 896 to New London where we (surprisingly) met up with the race group as planned. The sky was turning a blacker shade of black so we donned rainsuits as we left for Oxford on 896. The rains started as we approached Oxford so we headed south again on rt. 1 to try to get back to dry land. As we passed through Nottingham and turned east on 272, the rains stopped. Any motorcycle rider would be hard pressed to bypass Chrome (PA) so we rode through it. We were hard-pressed to see anything and, in fact, didn't realize we were in it until we rode past the sign on the way out.

At Calvert, we headed west on rt. 273. This road, which runs into rt. 1 is marked as scenic on the Maryland map. It is! We saw the bank of (but not the House of the) Rising Sun and continued on 1 over the Susquehanna River. The Conowingo Dam and hydroelectric plant are an impressive sight. One rides down a steep hill and then up another on the other side of the river. The roads, thick with motorcycles on the now sunny and warm day, provided a great ride: gently rolling with nice turns, lots of trees and quiet towns, and interesting places to stop and eat. At Dublin, which lies at the intersection of rts. 1 and 136, we rode north to Cardiff on the MD-PA line. We continued west on 136, then south on 23 at Norristown, and then west on 138 where we stopped for lunch at Monkton. The 136-23-138 ride was the finest stretch of roads we saw on the ATW and perhaps one of the best rides in this region. They combine twisty and, at times, narrow roads through rolling farmland and heavily wooded areas. This section of Maryland is not densely populated so the roads are not heavily traveled. One note of caution, though: eat and gas up in Dublin before embarking on the ride because there are not a lot of opportunities to do so on these roads. Monkton's claim to fame is that it sits astride the old Northern Central Railroad, now a bicycle trail. A neat refurbished old railroad station provided a welcome comfort stop and lots of foto ops while we sat in the warm sunshine eating ice cream and talking to the bicyclists and equestrians who were enjoying the trail.

We continued west on 138 to Hereford, where we picked up 137, another scenic road. At White House, we followed the signs to rt. 30 and then, after a brief mile on 30 north through Hempstead, headed west on 482 to Mexico and south on 27 through Westminster to rt. 144 at Mt. Airy. A brief eastward jaunt on 144 brought us to the Mediterranean beauties of Lisbon. Turning south on 94, a cracking road, we rode through Florence and then through the towering trees and welcome shade of the Patuxent River State Park. Rt. 108 west brought us to exotic Damascus where we enjoyed the wonderful sights, sounds, and cuisine at the local Shell station. Then, Fritz Ames, enjoying again both of his rear view mirrors, took us back to northern Virginia via 27, south to 118 south through Germantown, 107 east to 112, and a great ride along the Potomac River on rt. 190. As we crossed the Cabin John Bridge, I was ruing the end of three great days and about 750 miles of riding and wondering about where we'll go next year.

FINIS