"The Tail of the Dragon:" Tales from a Minivan on the Dangerous Stretch

It was a half-crazed idea to begin with. Two minivans in a cross country trip, spanning eight states (Texas, Louisiana, Mississippi, Alabama, Georgia, South Carolina, North Carolina and Tennessee); fifteen relatives in tight quarters; and an inexperienced driver on one of the most daring roads in the U.S.

Straddling the border between North Carolina and Tennessee lies a stretch of road affectionately known as "The Tail of the Dragon," (due to it's unique layout) that is a part of US 129. It's a hot spot for motorcyclists, sports car owners and thrill seekers wishing to test their skills on the winding road.

If you like roller coasters, you'll want to try it out too. With its 318 curves in 11 miles on a two-lane road--with no guardrails--up and down a Great Smoky Mountain (it boarders the National Park), texting while driving is a sure no-no.

My uncle owns a Harley. He loves his Harley. One of his great loves in life, besides his wife, is his Harley. Like every great Harley owner, he enjoys taking trips, off the interstate onto roads like the epic Dragon. Unfortunately, he was driving a church van, not a two-wheeling demon.

Since we already dragged him to plantation homes, museums, and botanical gardens, it was only fair to appease the thrill junkie in him and detour to the Dragon.

Now I'll freely admit I'm not a good driver. I waited until I was 21 to get my license because I had an irrational fear of driving, not to mention a problem staying in my lane, so driving on this road would be a challenge.

I had gained an inflated ego that I was the best driver of the lot, and my minivan followed the rules of the road (unlike my uncle's and it's lack of turning signals). So I cockily drove on.

I've never held the wheel more tightly than I did that day. Sure call me a chicken, I was straight up scared. There are NO guardrails! A wrong tilt and boom! There goes my rental insurance. There are about a handful of places to pull over along the way, which I did to allow the various motorcycles to pass, it was the right thing to do.

To our amusement, there were photographers along to way to shoot a couple of shots. Here's proof of my existence that day.

The twists, turns, yelps, and stress-induced headache pumped my blood to a boil. I ignored the pleadings of my backseat-driving aunt, to "Pull over! Let one of your uncles from the other vehicle drive!"

It was thrilling, and man oh man, what a rush. I loved it.

The trail ends at a damn, when we pulled up to my uncle, the speed-racer that he is, and the other van we were met with ammo for a days worth of jokes. Half his passengers were off to the side throwing up.

No one in my van threw up.

Win.