A Tank and a Half of Perspective

375-ish Miles | 8 Hours on the Road Severn, MD → Little Orleans → Green Ridge → Backroads Home I was off this week and thought an overnight motorcycle camping trip might be just what I needed — something simple, a little challenging, and far enough to feel like I was really going somewhere. The plan was to ride to the Oak Barrel Café for lunch, then head into Green Ridge State Forest and set up camp. I’d reserved a tent site, packed my gear, and mapped the route. It was all lined up — except for the weather.

But the real plan was not to lock myself into one. I gave myself options: I could camp, I could ride home, or I could find a third direction entirely. I didn’t want to pressure myself into committing to one version of success. I just wanted to ride, see how I felt, and let the day unfold. Flexibility was part of the therapy.

I left Severn around 10:30 AM. About an hour in, I made my first stop — a 7-Eleven. The roads had been quiet and calm, which made for a peaceful ride, but I was already feeling the cold more than I expected. Temps were in the upper 40s, but that wind chill on a bike at speed was brutal, and that’s when I realized my first mistake: I brought my regular riding gloves — not my winter ones. Rookie move. Inside the store, I found a pair of thin cotton gloves and slid them under my riding gloves like makeshift liners. Not perfect, but I was warm. While I was there, I also pulled on a merino wool sweater I had packed in my bag. Layer by layer, I patched myself together just enough to keep moving.

My second stop was for a hot chocolate. While I was warming up, I met a couple from Paraguay riding matching BMWs. He didn’t speak English, but his wife and I chatted for a few minutes. That small, shared moment — strangers bonding over bikes and bitter weather — did more for my mood than the coco ever could.

A few miles later, I pulled off at the Vietnam Veterans Memorial along Route 70. I didn’t stay long — just stood there for a minute, helmet off, taking it in. It was quiet, but the wind was strong — like something was pushing me forward, nudging me to keep going. It felt like the kind of moment that doesn’t need words. Just standing there, I was reminded how lucky I am to be able to take a ride like this, to chase peace and perspective. Some never made it back from the roads they were sent down. That thought stuck with me. And then the wind came again, like it was saying, “Time to sail on.”

And when I got back on the bike, there was only one right move — I queued up Hendrix and let it rip through my helmet speakers as I pulled back onto the road. If there was ever a time for “All Along the Watchtower” at full blast, it was that one.

Then, back to the ride — headed toward warmth, food, and whatever the rest of the day had waiting.

Spot Review: Oak Barrel Café – A Hidden Gem on the Pike

Tucked inside a Citgo off the historic National Pike, the Oak Barrel Café is the kind of place you almost miss — and then never forget. Sadly, the outdoor dining area was closed when I arrived, which was a bit of a bummer because it looked like a great spot to relax. But I grabbed a seat inside, and honestly, it was still a cozy and welcoming experience.

The café is full of personality. Inside, they’ve built out the space using reclaimed wood, old pallets, and rustic touches that give it authentic charm. There’s even a little fireplace that makes it feel more like a backroads lodge than a roadside café.

The staff was friendly, the vibe was laid-back, and they even have a bit of fun with it — if you show up on a Monday and enter the store dancing, you get a free coffee. I didn’t test that policy (this time), but now I kind of want to plan a return trip just to try it.

I went for the bacon cheeseburger — and destroyed it. I was so hungry I barely tasted it, but I know it was juicy, seasoned just right, and grilled with care. It hit that perfect post-ride hunger spot. I didn’t try dessert (next time), but I’ve heard their pies and cakes are worth stopping for all on their own.

What Makes It Worth the Ride:

• Landscape, perfect scenic views

• Hearty, well-made food that doesn’t cut corners

• Friendly service and quirky charm (free coffee if you dance on a Monday!)

• Reclaimed wood and cozy decor — including a fireplace

• Easy to miss, but hard to forget — a true local gem
  

What to Know:

• Cool outdoor seating may or may not be open

• Popular with bikers, road trippers, and anyone needing fuel — in every sense

• Walk in dancing on Mondays for Free coffee

• Staff is awesome

After lunch, I rode deeper into Green Ridge State Forest and found an overlook with a massive, still view. A reminder of why I’d wanted to do this in the first place. While I was taking it in, a group of college kids pulled in, heading off to camp. We swapped stories and laughs. I thought about staying — I had the gear, the site, everything I needed. But the wind turned colder, and something in my gut told me: not tonight.

So I pointed the bike toward home, but not the fast way — the Old National Road, Route 40, called me instead. That stretch of historic byway winds through the hills and towns like it has stories to tell. Riding it feels like stepping sideways in time — past old stone bridges, vintage gas stations, faded barns, and towns that seem to have more porch rockers than stoplights.

The pavement isn’t perfect — cracks, patches, the occasional bounce — but that’s part of the ride. It keeps you present. Alert. Connected. There were moments where I could see for miles and others where the road dipped into the trees like a forgotten trail. One minute I was soaking up the sun on a quiet straightaway, the next I was dropping into a turn with nothing but my headlight carving the shadows.

That ride back, along that road, slowed me down in the best possible way. It reminded me that the scenic route isn’t just about beauty — it’s about breath. About remembering that speed isn’t the only way to move forward. It gave me time to process the day — the cold, the conversations, the burger, the wind at the memorial. It gave me time to settle.

And when I finally pulled into my driveway, the sun was dipping low and the shadows stretched across the yard. I parked the bike, peeled off my gloves, and just stood there for a second — letting the engine tick cool, letting the moment settle.

Inside, my wife and son were just sitting down to dinner — spaghetti and garlic bread on the table, warm and waiting. Before joining them, I said hi, dropped my gear, noticed a stack of cool new stickers waiting for me, and cracked open a cold beer.

Then Luna trotted over, tail wagging, ready to debrief the day like she always does. We stepped outside together, and I went to say hey to Uncle Beardly. Just a quick catch-up, a couple laughs, after a few minutes, I came in, ate with my family, and finally hit the shower — not just because I needed to wash off the ride, but because it was time to let the ride sink in.

Some rides are about pushing your limits. This one was about slowing down, soaking it in, and remembering how good it feels to come home — to food, to family, to the dog, and to the people who make even your return feel like part of the adventure.

Also… I should’ve stretched. Eight hours on a stock seat will humble you real quick. I’m currently waiting to get in with the chiropractor for a much-needed adjustment. Lesson learned. Next time: more flexibility, more roadside overlooks — and definitely more quad stretches. Until next ride—

Brake, Bite, Breathe.

-Dom

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