Manchester, Kentucky where a very nice chap confirmed to me that the Americans are the friendliest
people I have met gave up his hotel room and moved in with his pal, so I could have a bed for the night. In
the evening we were joined by some of his work mates, we shared beer, steaks and stories and I got my
own room for Sunday and my first proper day off. Well I did ride a few miles to get some food and visit a
market.
South to Manchester 10 & 11 in Alabama. I was warned that “this is not a safe area for you, sir”, and
escorted back out of a deep forest where the Manchester was just a metal sign in a real ‘Hillbilly’ enclave.
Enough said. I made a quick exit. The only ‘threat’ I encountered, was a third party warning that “Those
mommas have sons with their own kids, if you know what I mean”
Georgia was as far south as I was to travel on the trip, a week of tornados in the deep-south had caused
havoc and resulted in missing 6 Manchester visits, I was not going to 33 after all.
Arriving in a typical Manchester armed with a video camera on a big red Goldwing that I had added
Bennett’s badges, Road to Manchester signs, and union jack flags, was not enough. Every chance to tell
anyone about my trip included barging into town halls, fire stations, even a truck sales shop (nowhere else
to go!!) became normal practise.
“Hi, my name is Pete and I am from the other Manchester, the one in England. Just passing through the
country visiting all the towns called Manchester.”