Just as I couldn’t take this trip in a cage, I had to take it alone. I could decide how long to sit on some secluded corner of a battlefield, U-turn to read wayside markers, or change plans after the nightly discussion with maps and brochures. But when you have a friend in Richmond, heart of the Confederacy, who not only grew up steeped in the war but is a former re-enactor and a motorcyclist, it would be foolish to remain solitary. Joe Sokohl would be my guide for two days to the sites (and great roads) he knew so intimately: Fredericksburg, Five Forks, the Namozine Church, Chancellorsville—Joe showed me the precise spot where Stonewall Jackson was hit by friendly fire, as well as the nearby grave of the Southern hero’s amputated arm. We rode down Richmond’s Monument Avenue and to the recently excavated Lumpkin’s slave jail, in one unassuming old building the cause of a nation’s bloody rupture, practically in the shadow of the Confederacy’s capital.