Hwy "2 fitty"... In particular I'm talking about an 8 mile stretch from Highway 49 to Stringfellow Rd, but for the weekend warrior looking for some curves to throw down on, it's a pretty good piece of asphalt..(wait, that didn't come out right). Let's start at the beginning.

I found this stretch of road about three years ago quite by accident when I used to live out in Burns, TN. I was riding out from Hwy 70 down through the Narrows of the Harpeth State Park and found myself at the intersection of Highway 250 and Stringfellow Rd. There I was presented with a market on one side of the road and a train caboose in a front yard on the other. A bit of an oddity to say the least, but it makes a good landmark.

At this point I ran into the market, grabbed a bottle of water, and thought about where to go from here. I was new to this neck of the woods but it was a nice afternoon, I had my new to me Kawasaki ZR-7s and wasn't ready to head home yet. I decided to to go right (North) and see what there was. For the first mile or so this portion of Hwy 250 is called Claylick Rd and then a sharp, uphill right-hander appears and the road name changes to Petway.

The houses gave way to trees and the quality of the pavement improved. It appeared this stretch of road had recently been paved, still very dark in color with fresh yellow lines running down its spine. The path of the pavement also became more interesting as it started winding left and right with some of the turns having a small degree of banking.

Maybe it was the spring afternoon sun casting a gentle flickering flash across my visor, or the feeling of being on my new ride exploring a new road, but the wind rushing past my helmet seemed to whispering “Turn up the wick”, and my wrist obeyed. The growl of the exhaust deepened for a moment as a few more horses joined me for a little play time.

With visibility being quite good and the road free of debris, the horizon tilted left and right as I  persuaded the ZR to change direction in sync with the road.  It was one of those moments in time that we live to ride for. I wasn't breaking any records with my speed and I certainly was in no danger of scraping peg nor knee, but for a few minutes it was zen. My machine and I were working as a team with the road, not against it, and together we wound our way past trees and wide, grass covered shoulders.

Eventually the trees and grass started giving way to driveways and houses again, but the road had not given up yet. It continued its winding for a little while longer as we passed by mailboxes and old damp newspapers in plastic bags at the ends of driveways. It was a reality check of sorts and I started easing up a bit on the throttle, which turned out to be well timed as sharp left hand turned appeared in front of me.

The curve had a nice bank to it, and though not quite 90 degrees, it looked tighter. The ZR and it's new Pilot Powers were more than up to the task, but I wasn't too sure about me. As it turned out there was very little drama and the bike and I made a somewhat sloppy, but complete, turn and carried on as though nothing happened (well it did, my pulse was a little fast for a minute).

About 2000 feet later I came to the intersection of Hwy 250 and Hwy 49 and a sign pointing to my right saying Greenbrier. I thought to myself “How far did I go? Isn't Greenbrier pretty far from here?”. I pulled into the parking lot to my right for the Two Rivers Fire Dept. to contemplate my current location and gem that was the past bit of twisty tarmac. (As it turns out there are at least three "Greenbriers" in Tennessee)

I looked down at the Walmart digital watch I had strapped to my handlebars to check the time and was shocked. It had only been about 15 minutes since I left the caboose / market intersection. It had felt like an hour, like time had slowed for the ZR and I while winding our way down Hwy 250. I realized the  feeling I had just experienced minutes ago now presented me with a question that had to be answered.

I pulled my helmet on and fastened the D-ring strap. Thumbing the starter button, the ZR-7's engine growled up at me as if it too needed the answer to the same question I had. I flipped down my visor and started rolling across the gravel driveway of the fire station. As I left the gravel and started rolling onto the smooth pavement, I reached down with my left hand and gave the tank a quick pat. The fire station started receding in my mirrors as I reached back up for the clutch I whispered in my helmet “Let's go see if it's as fun the other direction”.

Familiarity with this stretch of road over the last three years has robbed me of that thrill I experienced back then I'm afraid. However, when do I head out that way I still find it to be a great little run and those days when I run it “just right” are still very satisfying. I should mention that the roads leading to it through the Narrows of the Harpeth or even up Hwy 49 via River Road are also good rides in their own right, but that's for another article. :)

-Brandon