West Bound and Down

Well, it's finally here. Tomorrow I'm leaving for Sturgis. I go with mixed feelings, because things in my life have changed drastically since I originally planned this trip. Susan can't go with me and that's tough for me to take. When it comes to riding now after so much time being alone, I enjoy it much more when she is either on back two-up, or riding her own bike beside me. The bottom line is she just can't take that much time off of work right now. I also originally made my plans to ride with a friend who's splitting the room out there, which we both paid for in advance. If it were not for that, I would have backed out and waited for next year so Susan and I could do Sturgis together for the first time. As Big D said, it's like we're two devout Catholics, and I'm off to meet Jesus Christ himself without her. It stinks, but that's the reality.

I know I haven't put up the pics from Maine yet like I said I would and I'm sorry about that. Things have just been crazy busy with me trying to get moved in with Susan, continuing to provide daycare for my children during the week, doctor's and other appointments, etc. The good thing about a motorcycle blog though is that there's really no time limit. You guys will enjoy those pics just as much when I finally put them up as you would have if I did it two weeks ago; I just didn't want you all to think I forgot or don't care. The same goes for my lack of visits/comments on all your blogs. I hope once Sturgis is behind me things will settle down a bit and I can find some more time.

Since I don't have a laptop, I won't have internet access out there, so don't look for any more updates here until at least the third week of August. Until then I hope all of you enjoy whatever it is you're doing in your lives, and that you're all well. If you're riding, please have fun and ride safe. Until then...

...Joker out...

It's Finally Summer, and Memories of Maine

Today seems like it's going to be the first "real" day of summer here in the Boston area, with temps finally reaching up into the high 80s and the kind of humidity that makes it a good "beach day." When I think that July is nearly over it's almost unbelievable. I've lived here my whole life, and I can never remember such a long stretch of gray, cool, rainy weather like we've had here for just about all of June and most of July. Up to now, I think I've only ridden once in just a tee shirt and my vest, and I only took my windshield off a week ago when it should've been a month ago. So with all that, the outlook for being able to ride for most of this weekend in sunny warm weather is making for a happy Friday.

Last year, the weather for Jackson's annual Maine Moose Run was pristine, but this year not so much. As it turned out, Susan and I not being able to ride up with the pack on the Thursday before the 4th ended up being a blessing in disguise. The ride up, which is usually about 4 hours, took them twice that long. My friends endured 130 miles of stop-and-go highway traffic in torrential rain all the way through Mass and NH, which finally let up past Kennebunk, Maine. They said at times it was so bad that visibility was barely 20 feet and it was all they could do to keep the taillight of the bike in front of them in sight. At one point they had to stop under an overpass for shelter because they just couldn't see. They called it one of the most dangerous and miserable rides most of them had ever done. Luckily, they all kept the shiny side up and arrived safe.

Except for our camping gear which I sent up in one of the chase vehicles, I had everything else (except my camera - doh!) packed up on the bike and rode up to Susan's work on Friday afternoon to pick her up. It was gray and cool, but the rain held off for our whole ride up, which was great. As we sat in traffic on the approach to the Piscataqua River Bridge, which connects NH and Maine, a guy in a silver Dodge pickup pulled beside us and the driver stuck his head out the window and yelled, "Hey...you guys going to Maine??"

Susan was startled a bit and said to me, "Who the hell was that!?"

"The guy who has all our stuff in the back of his truck, that's who," I said.

Susan was like, "No way!" She hadn't been with me when I dropped the stuff off so she didn't really know Keith yet. We had left from different places at different times, so what are the chances we'd hook up on the road? The next thing you know as we pass by the truck, Keith's g/f is holding a sign in the window for us to pull off at the next rest area. We pull in, and there's Dave Thomas from Blackstone on his bike, and his g/f Lori in her car. That made the rest of the ride great. Keith led in his truck, followed by Dave and Susan and I on the bikes, and Lori bringing up the rear. I felt safer for one, and didn't have to worry about the directions anymore for two.

When we finally got off the highway in Maine we pulled into a gas station, which I didn't understand at first because the house was now only about 10 minutes away. That's when I found out Keith had been in touch with the others up at the house on his cell and Jackson told him to wait there. "We're gonna ride down and bring you in," he said. So a few minutes later the rumble of 6 or 7 Harleys approached and our friends arrived to welcome us to Maine and fill us in about the hell-ride they all had coming up. Daylight was now short and we had tents to set up, so we mounted up and Jackson led the pack up the road to his mother's 250 acre property where we'd spend the 4th of July weekend. I'm still waiting for pics from Jackson and Susan because I forgot my damned camera...sorry about that but I'll post them when I get them.

Even though it was gray and cool a lot, and we did get some rain here and there, we still had a great time. We said screw the rain on Saturday and did our annual ride to Moosehead Lake and lunch at Flatlander's Pub. There was rain for part of the ride there, but it wasn't too bad, and it was totally worth it. We parked and walked up to the Pub. At the door a guy who works there gave us this wide-eyed look and said to Jackson, "Uh...how many?"

"About 20," Jackson said.

"You all coming in together?"

"Yeah," Jackson said, "that's what we were thinking."

The guy hesitated a bit. "I hope we have room for everybody," he said.

Jackson smiled, saying "No problem," as he moved past the guy and pulled the door open. He took one step inside the place and yelled "Everybody OUT!!!"

We all followed Jackson inside, and I shit you not, in less than 10 minutes we were the only ones in the place. Every year Jackson has a "classic moment," and this was definitely it. The gang at Flatlanders knows what kind of a tab we run up so it was all good. We had a great lunch, and a dry ride back.

The party around the campfire went well into the night and we must've set off several hundred dollars worth of fireworks. Sunday morning seemed like it came way too fast this year - the price for missing that extra day. The best thing for me was watching Susan just get taken away by the experience of the place and the people. She blended in like she'd been with us for years instead of months, and seemed to love every minute of it. Jackson's mom Pat and her boyfriend Warren love having us up there and look forward to it so much every year that saying good-bye to them was bittersweet. The sun finally came out for our ride back and we made good time on the trip home.

I'll do a slide-show when I get some pictures from the others. Until then, if you're curious you can look back HERE for pics from last year's trip.

Big D and Joker Become Real Bikers

Now that I've passed the "crossroads" headed in my new direction, I decided I'd rather not keep the post here as a bad memory. Everyone who needs to know now knows. The other reason was things were starting to get nasty on the part of my thankfully soon-to-be ex brother-in-law and one of my wife's cousins, who each posted nasty, sophomoric comments. It's bad enough to have to tell all of you my wife and I separated, but I'm not looking for a public pissing contest from bitter family members.

There was one thing my brother-in-law mentioned to me that did raise my concerns though, and I thought I'd better take a closer look. According to Rob Zombie (that's my nickname for him because he's about as exciting as watching paint dry and has a vocabulary that doesn't go much farther than "yup, nope, hi, and bye."), I guess I'm not a real biker because I used to wear eyeglasses. I have to tell you I was shocked, shocked! to hear that means I "fit the bill as a nerd, not a biker." What really gets me is that my wife has worn eyeglasses all of her life, so that begs the question of just how does he classify his sister? Zombie's own brother-in-law on his wife's side wears glasses. I always thought Dave was a pretty nice guy, and to hear now that he's a nerd was devastating I have to tell you.

Aside from that and of greater concern the other killer was that I guess I don't qualify because, in his words, "you have had a bike for like what, three years?" Wow. That really makes you think. Just when does it become official? Is it 5 years? 10? 20? When I think back to when I was riding my first bike over 20 years ago when Rob Zombie still didn't know what to do with his morning hardon, it made me realize that maybe I didn't go about it the right way. I guess he didn't know about that, and probably forgot about my 2nd bike which I gave him a ride on back of when his sister and I were first dating, but I digress. This is a serious issue, so I think we all need to draw up a set of parameters here.

Maybe we could have some sort of official "real biker" ceremony, after we decide how many bikes you have to own over how many years. Or, maybe we need to do it by miles ridden or how many rallys attended. Would attending a ride sponsored by an outlaw M/C in the middle of the desert qualify you? Because there are so many variables, I ended up wishing we all had to do it officially from day one, you know, like joining the Army or something. They could have a biker recruitment office, you'd have to sit down in front of a "real biker," sign-up, and then you get shipped off to some sort of biker boot camp. There, we could learn important skills, like biker etiquette at rallys, or how best to remove teeth from punks with big mouths using a ball-peen hammer. Do the time and you hit the parade ground on your motor for graduation.

I don't know why but I try to picture Big D and I doing this, and if you haven't figured it out by now, this mirrors the scene in Stripes where Bill Murray and Harold Ramis join the Army. Big D and I pull up in our old shitbox cage and abandon it in a no-parking zone. Inside, we sit before "the Man," his face tan and weathered from years on the road. We are both a bit nervous and fidgety before this graying old dirty biker, and try hard not to be too obvious as we check out the many faded patches and worn pins adorning his cut. He had no name tag; there was no name plate on his desk either.

With a stern look in our direction, he speaks.

"All I can tell you, is that you'll get out of being a biker whatever you're willing to put into it. Now, there are just a few more questions I have to ask, and then you can sign the papers."

The Man picks up a form from his desk and stares over it in our direction. Avoiding the eye contact, I look at Big D and I can tell by his eyes he's still glad he didn't get a haircut before coming over to this place. I had thought if he looked like he was trying too hard he might catch shit. Big D had said if they made him cut his hair, he'd quit. So much for my advice.

The Man cleared his throat with a hint of annoyance and Big D said to me, "Look at him while he's talking to you."

I wished I had more of Big D's courage and knowledge of biker etiquette, and that was what I was hoping to get more of here. My time riding Hondas and Kawasaki's didn't seem good enough to get me in, compared to a guy who ruined a hard-tail jumping the Braga Bridge in Fall River to get away from the cops. I did what he said though, turning slowly into the burning gaze of the Man as he spoke again.

"Have either of you ever been convicted of a felony?"

Again, Big D and I passed a nervous look between us, not seeming able to come up with an answer.

"I'm talking armed robbery, auto theft, drug trafficking...stuff like that," the Man said.

Big D looked back and said, "You did say convicted, right?"

"That's right...convicted."

"No...no," Big D said over a laugh, "never convicted."

Outside, an airhorn blew and there was a short screech of brakes, followed by someone yelling out, "Asshole!" We were both smiling now, but the Man wasn't amused.

"Are you sure you two want to go through with this?" he said.

We both nodded. The Man rolled his eyes. Next question...

"Do either of you now, or have you ever worn...eyeglasses?"

Big D and I exchanged another uncomfortable glance, and it seemed like the ticking from the Harley-Davidson clock on the wall was getting louder. I don't know what made me answer...

"You mean...like flaming...or..?"

"Well it's a standard question we have to ask," the Man replied curtly.

"No, we don't wear eyeglasses," Big D said, "but we are willing to learn."

"Yeah," I chimed in, "will they send us someplace special??"

"I guess that's "no" on both," said the Man, sliding two sets of papers and a pen toward us. "Now if you could just give The Brothers your autographs..."

The next thing you know we were off to Sturgis for Basic Training. We were finally gonna be REAL BIKERS!!! This was so exciting!

Maybe the next time, I'll tell you all about how Big D and I got caught in the Women's Showers, or about the time we took the Road Captain's bike to get it washed...

Topsy - Turvy

We are joining the ranks of home gardeners - about $50 bucks later we should have about $4 worth of tomatoes and squash! Less than a week and we have two "maters" started! I feel like man Vs wild - Cleveland! Self sustaining.

Topsy - Turvy

We are joining the ranks of home gardeners - about $50 bucks later we should have about $4 worth of tomatoes and squash! Less than a week and we have two "maters" started! I feel like man Vs wild - Cleveland! Self sustaining.