The Blue Ridge Parkway really does get better as you go south.

It was a glorious autumnal afternoon in October and I was going faster and faster as the adrenaline started to flow. The leaves were spectacular shades of orange, yellow and gold in the softening light.

I could see a left hand corner coming and moved slightly to the right.
Even though I had left Connecticut a week ago and I was still feeling a bit weird.

I had felt very unsettled when I got home from my last trip and had only worked for six months before starting this trip.

‘Why did I start this one when I knew I didn’t have enough money to last very long?’

I knew I couldn’t stay at home and pushed these thoughts out of my mind.

Today was why I had got on my bike again:

The pure joy of being outside surrounded by beautiful scenery. The amazing kindness of complete strangers. The buzz from constantly seeing new things, from the speed and the total freedom to go wherever I wanted.

I love it.

The corner was approaching quickly but I still couldn’t see around it.

As I glanced up at the wall of leaves straight ahead I saw the reflection of a white truck.

I instantly closed the throttle and moved to the right of the road.

A huge white truck appeared out of nowhere and roared past me.

This is a National Park. There aren’t supposed to be any trucks in it at all.

If I hadn’t ‘seen’ it in the leaves I doubt I’d be here now.

It makes the hairs on the back of my neck stand up just to write this story.

Visit www.fowb.co.uk for more details on this and previous trips.