The most common pictures I saw when reading about Magruder were of Burnt Knob. When we come upon the turn to the lookout, I know we’ll have to check it out.
The one-and-a-half mile road is narrow and quite rocky in places, requiring finesse on the bigger bikes. The 1290 continues to impress, though. I stand on the pegs and it rolls tamely over everything, even the last sharp turn littered with loose rocks.
I am a little surprised to find myself suddenly in a veritable crowd. I scan quickly for an available spot level enough to put the kickstand down. As I thread between some side-by-sides, motorcycles and a Jeep, my soft pannier brushes a supermoto that must have been leaning only lightly on its kickstand.
“Oh shit,” I think as I see it start to tip in the corner of my eye.