The factory was constructed on a hill at the south end of the lake—the only area that wasn't marshy—and faced into the wind to harness a natural air flow to feed the blast furnaces, and Lewis brought in skilled glassblowers and imported costly English Stourbridge porcelain melting pots.

A typical Roundel adventure, our cruise to Eagles Mere began in the rain—after three months of non-stop sunshine before the roadster arrived. Still, we headed off, top up, along Pennsylvania Route 220, a long, wide, sweeping strip of tarmac that winds along the valley from the New York State border down almost to West Virginia. Snaking between the mountains along parts of the Susquehanna River and Muncy Creek, the cozy M made one long, brisk back-and-forth sweep down the valley.

In the borough of Muncy, Valley Route 42 peels off up the mountain to the northwest toward Eagles Mere proper. Our drive up through the fog and heavy rain kept the first hints of fall leaves hidden. This stretch of road was built in the 1880s for bark haulers to get to the tanneries, and still skirts a little stream all the way up to the turnoff for Hunters Lake—and it isn't straight anywhere until then.

Once you get to Eagles Mere, you can make your base camp for a weekend at any of a number of inns. We sought refuge from the rain at the Eagles Mere Inn. Built to house the craftsmen who were employed to build the other hotels and homes around the lake, the inn reflects the rich history of how things were in 1887 when it was constructed. I passed the time in the downstairs parlor, listening to the rain and flipping through the local history book—Mere Reflections by Barbara and Bush James—while awaiting our table at the inn's splendid restaurant.

Another option, the Crestmont, is a big, comfortable survivor from the bygone days when splendid pickings were the norm; it is set on the prow of a hill overlooking the lake. Built by inspiration from a cyclone in 1892—when William Warner saw the commanding view that the cyclone left behind—the Crestmont still offers grand views and fine dining. During dinner one evening, our host ushered us to a window, presumably to view the sunset—but instead there were three young black bears ambling across the lawn.

In the morning, it wasn't dry but not quite raining, either, so we headed off on our first drive of the weekend, to Lake Jean and the Ricketts Glen State Park. The glen is famous for the trails that wind up alongside twenty-some waterfalls. Be prepared to spend most of the day; we postponed breakfast in order to drive in the early-morning air. I intended to stop along the way in the little town of Central. I rarely get the chance to get over there, so I wasn't going to miss this one.

You can get to the glen from Eagles Mere—Ricketts Glen is displayed on most Pennsylvania state maps—by way of several long attractive options. We headed out of town toward Laporte on Route 42 to Route 220, made a left, and drove until the intersection of Route 487 south. We followed 487 all the way to Route 118, on which we headed east.

Another option is to head down the hill from Eagles Mere on Route 42 south back toward Muncy Creek. There you'll again meet Route 220, only much further south. Turn right and head south a short distance to where Route 42 peels off to the left; follow 42 all the way to the intersection with Route 118, and head east.

It might seem surprising in such an out-of-the-way place as Central, but the M roadster hardly stood out: the blue roads have more and more fans. Among the Harley, Honda, and BMW motorcycles were a TR3 and a 2002----and we were all out for the same adventure. Back on the road and more than comfortable from breakfast, we strolled along in a downpour, even being overtaken by a handful of sport bikes obviously late for something. One of the potential pitfalls of Route 118 is that the road is essentially a few sweeping turns linking a series of mind-altering Mulsanne Straights; the pavement nearly disappears into perspective. The urge, particularly in the M roadster, was to explore the true limits of the speedometer and pass everything in sight in one go. But we demurred.

The roads around the Glen area are popular with quite a few motorcycle and car clubs, so you generally have plenty of motoring-enthusiast company. On the way back you could choose to follow Route 118 the rest of its length west to Hughesville, where fuel is less expensive and ATMs abound. In Hughesville, head north on Main Street; it runs into Route 220, which you can then take right back to Eagles Mere, where there are some pleasant places to spend an afternoon. At the back of the little row of shops is a very well-stocked little bookstore—two floors of quiet browsing. However, the bookstore—and nearly everything else in town—will close at about five. Hours will vary in the summer.

After we drove back into town, still damp and now somewhat sore from the day's weather and hiking, we ambled up a few blocks to the Pemberley Tea House, a small shop with pleasant outdoor seating available—when it's nice out. A recommended pot of apricot tea and homemade scones took the gray out of the weather. We visited the upstairs where a small formal art gallery displays some originals from the area. Unfortunately, Pemberley's is only open in the summertime.

If time and muscles had permitted, I would like to have walked around Eagles Mere, the lake that made the town. Other than photographs, little remains around town to tell the story of the thriving industry of two hundred years ago. There is an old grinding wheel mounted outside the post office, and bits of glass are displayed at some local establishments. You can visit the local museum for more details, or just strike up a conversation with a local and ask. There are plenty of small trails around and near the lake, or just meander through the streets taking in the Victorian architecture.

Nearby World's End State Park is home to the area's annual white-water kayaking competition. Held each spring with traditional leftover flurries and unpredictable water levels, the Loyalsock Creek hosts paddlers from all over. The creek cuts down through a small gorge, and turns nearly back on itself, narrowing between boulders and old bits of a dam. Hikers of the 59-mile Loyalsock Trail can peer down from the canyon wall and watch the little boats dance through the gates and the rocks, but they can't hear a sound except the water.

The road that follows the water is nearly as much fun to drive as the creek is to paddle. On Sunday, when the sun briefly appeared, we decided to make a loop from Eagles Mere out and around that part of the valley, driving out toward Laporte onto Route 220 and heading north for just a short distance before making a left on Route 154. This empty road winds down along Mill Creek; with the fog hanging at the tops of the mountains, it felt like something from out west. Since it still wasn't raining, we drove with top down----and heat on----and began the sweeping descent. The M roadster finally had a chance to come alive for the first time all weekend, as we eased on the power and set the car into one corner after another

On this trip, however, I turned around in Forksville and headed back the way we had come, up Route 154. Just after the park, Double Run Road bears off to the right up the hill. Double Run is another vast, empty corker of a drive all the way up to where it intersects Route 42, just down the road from Eagles Mere. Quite twisty with lots of little crests into turns, it ekes its way up a very steep hillside through some old forest, and past great big boulders. The road has memories for me; one gleeful mindless romp—but not in this car!—up that hill fizzled into mopping up the remains of a steaming cup of whatever was in the cup holder combined with the waterlogged—coffeelogged?—powdered sugar coated donuts that had been in a forgotten bag on the floor.

Culinary disasters aside, about halfway up Double Run Road there is a little side loop. If you're driving up the hill, go past the first intersection of Coal Mine Road—it enters from the right, but requires an impossible angle of approach—continuing up about two hundred yards to where the second intersection just veers off to the right. Coal Mine Road is a gravel five-mile loop out through the sticks. If you're a wildflower fan, stop at the ruins of the old mine in the spring, when the area is dotted with small colorful trillium and acres of blooming mountain laurel.

The World's End Park area also boasts a few vistas of the Loyalsock Valley. These are found a few miles off the main roads surrounding the park, and are marked with directional signs and mileage's. Here are also some of the few gravel roads remaining in the area.

After one last run up the hill the rain set in, so we put the top up again, then headed back into town for a late lunch and a last look around before heading home. Even in the rain, the M roadster was reasonably composed, although if pushed at all, the TCS light blinked constantly. With restraint it would gladly plod along wherever I pointed it, and when the sun came out and roads were dry, the true nature of the M came shining through. Hills were no barrier. It gives up a bit of the secure, planted feel offered by the stiffer-bodied M coupe, but it's a fair trade for the chance to go whistling down the twisties with your face in the wind. And the sound: the sound! I put the top down every moment there wasn't precipitation just so I could listen to the car. At night, when the weather was dry and clearing, I put the top down, turned the heat on, and just drove for the fun of driving. It's that good----and while the Z4 is said to be stiffer while retaining all those wind-in-your-face roadster values, it's still not an M, now, is it?