I hate touristy things. I love variety. So why did I so thoroughly enjoy my time with fellow Jaguar F-type owners on roads like the famed Devil’s Triangle?
Good question.
I pondered that while I found myself leading a pack of F-types toward the Cherohala Skyway and Great Smoky Mountains. The joke’s on them, I thought. I had no clue where I was going. The rally app we used glitched, and I had no internet to dial up Google Maps. Hope they like an adventure.
I admit it–I’m spoiled. I live near many famed mountain roads, and people travel far to experience them. But for me, they often serve as merely a way to get from Point A to Point B.
The fact that I’m hanging with the group of F-types baffled me a bit. I love cars and coffee-type events because you never know what you’re going to get.
So why did I go on the Jaguar F-Type Forever Annual Tail of the Dragon Rally?
Well, I had questions after I bought my F-type last fall. Lots of them.
Like, who owns these things? What do they do with them? And what actually goes wrong with F-types?
The rally provided answers to satiate my curiosity.
Owners came from all walks of life. A few trailered in their F-types. One drives his daily, racking up more than 100,000 miles.
Most use F-types as fun cars for spirited drives on the weekend. I and one other guy autocross ours, but that’s the extent of how much owners let their Jaguars loose.
We talked common problems among ourselves and with the service manager at the local dealer, Jaguar Harper, our first official stop. It became glaringly clear what my next “upgrade” should be. Coil-overs? Wheels? No! The cooling system. Plastic pipes burst–and often unexpectedly. Once they burst, the engine quickly overheats, warping it out of commission.
With my questions answered, I took in some of the other offerings of the rally, which reminded me how privileged we are to drive cool cars.
On our way to jail–for lunch at Brushy Mountain State Penitentiary–a bunch of 20-somethings slowed down in a car held together by zip ties, duct tape and a whole lotta hope. One of them hung out of the car to video ours. The enthusiasm was contagious. You couldn’t help but share the smiles. I’ve been there, I remembered.
When we stopped at a supermarket to regroup, the locals quietly chattered about the “supercars” in the parking lot. Really? Supercars? Flattering, but a Jag is no Ferrari or McLaren.
But of course, the main attraction for rallygoers were the famed roads.
We tackled the Devil’s Triangle. The road carves through dense, lush green vegetation up and down hills, winding its way through several rural communities.
The 44-mile loop doesn’t concentrate the turns as much as the Dragon, but it packs a bunch of thrills in other ways: rough roads, blind crests and plenty of Armco barriers ready to bite you. This route intimidated some people on the rally a bit more than the other roads we traveled. To me, though, it was just another Tennessee back road.
Now we’re making our way to the Cherohala Skyway. Hey, I found it! Drive toward mountains and you’re bound to hit it, right?
Our journey on the Skyway begins in Tellico Plains, a small town with an affinity for dark-brown, roughly hewn buildings offering activities such as tubing, lodging and dining. We didn’t come to stay, though.
As we drive away from civilization, the forest to the right becomes denser, where your eyes want to search for Smokey Bear or his relatives. The seemingly placid river to our left begins to dance, with more and more rocks jutting out to create a symphony of water that no human could score. The sky becomes bigger as we climb toward the apex of the Cherohala Skyway, some 5400 feet above sea level, where you can’t help but feel you’re a bit closer to heaven.
About a half hour into the drive, I finally break free of the trance put on me by the scenery and the smooth road that gently delivers its curves like a mother rocks her baby.
“What’s our next stop?” I think. I totally lost track of where the rally goes after this.
I frantically search for a rest area or scenic overlook and hope those behind me don’t follow me. I don’t have imposter syndrome–I really am a fraud for an expert here. Then again, if they don’t follow me, how will I know where to go next? Stop that thought! There’s a scenic overlook.
And the F-type caravan followed me.
I get out of my car, scanning the mountaintops as far as the eye can see.
“Why did you pull off?” they ask.
“What’s the next stop?” I reply.
They respond with surprised looks–and then we laugh.
I breathe a sigh of relief and breathe in some fresh mountain air to calm my anxiety.
It finally hits me: I can be myself here. We’re all wanderers. And if you’re going to get lost, this was the place to do it and the people to do it with.
After enjoying each other’s company and the never-ending scene of mountains, we roll out.
“Don’t follow me,” I tell them. “I’m headed home.”
Their next stop is the Historic Tapoco Lodge. Mine is getting ready for an autocross with the F-Type.
So I lead them toward their destination and turn right a few miles before they hit the famed resort to begin my solo adventure. Then it hits me: I’m headed the wrong way.
D’oh!
After a brief detour, I finish up on the Dragon with a new perspective as I sling my car around, with each one of those 318 curves hammering into my mind the biggest lessons I’ve learned.
These roads are meant to be enjoyed.
These F-types are meant to be enjoyed.
And things like this are best shared with friends to truly enjoy them.
Sometimes you don’t realize what you have until you see how much joy it brings others.
Comments
The joke’s on them, I thought. I had no clue where I was going.
I’m glad you were able to take that in good stride, because I would have probably just collapsed into a ball of panic and anxiety. 
Colin Wood said:
The joke’s on them, I thought. I had no clue where I was going.
I’m glad you were able to take that in good stride, because I would have probably just collapsed into a ball of panic and anxiety.
I’ve learned over the years to just roll with the punches.
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