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.