In the Year of our Lord 1996, I walked into the newest restaurant in my hometown of Wooster, OH—a bagel shop cleverly called Woogels, I’ll give you a minute to appreciate that one—and asked for a job. I worked there for a year before running off to Pittsburgh to learn how to cook, but in the meantime, I became fast friends with the owners, Dave and Tracy Hoag.
About six years my senior, the Hoags and I shared a lot in common—music, food, beer, movies, books, favorite cities, dumb, sophomoric humor, etc. Despite leaving town and nearly everyone and everything I’d ever known behind to pursue interests elsewhere in the Rustbelt, the Hoags and I stayed in touch. Today, they’re two of my oldest, dearest friends.
When Dave, Tracy, and I get together, even all these years later, we fall into our old roles as the structure of our long friendship settles around us. Dave's the impish class clown with seemingly endless energy. I'm the sarcastic and permanently exasperated straight man. Tracy is, as she's always been, the brains of the outfit. My wife observes from the outside, amused, like a researcher watching three monkeys hoot and holler and hit each other with sticks. We’re grown people in our late-40s and early-50s, mind you. I find that it’s important to never grow up despite growing old.
So, why am I bringing up this ancient history? Well, see, at the beginning of this year I realized that it’d been years since my wife and I had seen Dave and Tracy. The physical distance between Columbus and Detroit, combined with a falloff in our family trips, Covid, the general events of 2020, and gestures helplessly at everything, meant that we hadn’t seen them in person since about 2017.
Remember how, in last week’s blog, I mentioned that I’d rediscovered my enjoyment of travel and camping during my cross-country Ural trip? This rediscovery, combined with an ongoing project wherein I was forcing myself to leave the house and actually enjoy things, coalesced into one of the better ideas I’d had in a while—Ural camping with the Hoags.
Did I mention that Dave has a Ural? He does! See, a few years ago, Dave called me and said, “I’m buying a Ural, I need some advice.” Readers, let me tell you, I had some advice for him. He and I texted back and forth for a few days, he sent me pictures of his candidates, I judged them (and found most of them wanting), and I gave him my usual “Wear all your gear all the time” screed. Eventually, he pulled the trigger on a mint 2018 Gear Up in terracotta that he got from our pals over at Heindl Engineering.
I figured, well, since Dave has a Ural and I have a Ural then we should go on a weekend road trip together! I also thought that the best place to do it was in Ohio’s Hocking Hills. You ever heard of the Hocking Hills? Don’t worry if you haven’t, I’d wager that most people who don’t live within, say, a six-hour drive of the area are in the same boat.
If you don’t know, the Hocking Hills is the stretch of Southeastern Ohio that’s tucked in the western foothills of the Appalachian Mountains. It’s full of dense forests, deep gorges, weird stone formations, massive rock shelters that look like they were formed for giants instead of humans, and some of the wiggliest roads in the tri-state area. It’s a paradise for riders, campers, history nerds, and outdoorsy types.
So, in the middle of August, my wife and I loaded up the Ural with camping gear, snacks, and maps and set off one Friday morning on the 200 or so mile trip down to the Hocking Hills. We picked up Dave and Tracy along the way just outside of Columbus and, after a spirited, late-night thrash through winding Hocking Valley roads, we got to our campsite.
Over the next couple of days, we put hundreds of miles on our bikes as we crisscrossed the region. We hiked rough, unmarked trails through the Wayne National Forest to find a cave where a famous horse thief stashed his goods. We trekked through ancient, long-lost cemeteries, explored abandoned, haunted railway tunnels, put the bikes through their paces both on and off road, and generally enjoyed nature and each other’s company. We also spent about 1,400 hours fielding questions about our bikes and Urals in general. In a word, it ruled.
All told, my wife and I did roughly 700 miles between Friday morning and Monday afternoon. Both of us were tired of the road and of the bike (and just a little bit tired of one another) by the time I pulled into the garage, and it was all worth it. See, I’d used the bike as a way to both spend more time with my wife doing one of our things and to rekindle one of the most meaningful friendships I’ve ever had. Did it work? Well, we’re already planning next year’s Hocking Hills expedition, so you tell me.
What about you? Did you take any important trips on your Ural this year? Do you have any coming up? Share in comments!
