Well, I didn't get attacked by the crackheads, although a weird Hispanic guy knocked on my window twice and said he was looking for his buddy. The 2^nd time I told him that his buddy wasn't here and I was trying to sleep. He apologised again and stumbled off. Coupled with the fact that the curtain didn't quite cover the window, casing a streak of light onto the wall through which various shadows passed, I expected a poor night's sleep. As it was I quickly fell into a deep slumber, even the constant death rattle from the air-con and the roar of planes taking off from the nearby airport didn't stop me. Until 4am, when I woke up. The funny thing about jet-lag is that no matter how tired you might feel, you still feel wide awake. This was one of those occasions. I laid there for ages trying to get back to sleep before giving up and picking up my kindle once more. At this rate I'll run out of books before I even collect my bike.

I did manage to get another hours sleep after a brief Skype call to Tracy, but by 7am I was up and raring to go. I decided that trying to cross the highway to the Waffle Bar was a bad idea on 2 counts. First, the traffic was horrendous. Second, I didn't fancy another surreal conversation this early in the morning, even with the jet-lag. So I walked up the road to another food place where I had a half decent breakfast – after the usual endless questions about how I would like my eggs cooked, whether I wanted sausages or bacon, potatoes or grits, toast or biscuits (and what type of bread), and how I wanted my coffee. Judging by the size of my fellow diners the portions were going to be huge, but mine wasn't, which was a relief.

After whiling away a few hours reading back at the motel, I caught the shuttle bus back to the airport to wait for Chris to arrive. He's the guy that's organised a trip on the TAT for a group and who was kind enough to let me stow my bike in his container. Once he arrived we tried to hire a car so we could drive the 20 miles or so to Townsend and so that he could then ferry his riders from the airport as they arrived. Only it would seem that all the hire cars in Knoxville have been hired by insurance companies settling claims from a very bad hailstorm earlier in the year. At least that was the reason given by the reps behind all of the many hire companies when they explained they had no cars for hire. On did have a car but it was large and very expensive, so we resorted to a taxi instead.

Where we're staying in Townsend, the Riverside Lodge motel is a huge improvement over last night, nestled in a quiet part of this small town in amongst the trees right by the river. It's also next door to GSM Motorent motorcycle hire, where we will be unloading the bikes in the morning. Once we'd checked in I went and bought some cold beers and we sat chatting in the intense heat supping a cold beer. Simon, one of Chris' group arrived on his KTM 690, having spent 5 days riding the interstate all the way from Las Vegas. He's been in the US since early June, riding around and is joining the group to ride the TAT, taking my bike's place in the container for the return leg. He looked very hot indeed and regaled us with tales of riding through Texas and 150degree F temperatures. I gave him a cold beer as I thought he deserved it.

After a quick dip in the pool we went to the restaurant next door, where our request for a table was met by the young waitress proclaiming that my accent was simply gorgeous. I think I should have come here 30 years ago.

For dinner I had a delicious Southern Fried steak, which is a local delicacy of thin steak coated in spicy batter and fried, served with “white gravy” (an onion gravy) and mash. Sadly there was no beer or wine to wash it down with as the restaurants here don't seem to have liquor licences. A massive piece of carrot cake followed, which was clearly a mistake, as I could neither finish it nor move after I'd eaten what I could.

Before retiring to bed we grabbed the remaining cans of cold beer from our fridge and wandered over to Dan's workshop next door, where he was sat listening to music and enjoying a cold one himself. An evening spent supping cold beer, getting eaten by the bugs and discussing bikes, trails and riding followed, but not for too long as Chris' jet-lag was kicking in and mine wasn't far behind. And so off to bed with the sound of the crickets making a welcome change from last night's air-con and airplane symphony...