After I got back from Sturgis, I had one day to rest up before leaving for another trip. On Friday, August 14th, I picked Susan up at her work on the bike and we headed north for a weekend together in the White Mountains of New Hampshire. Her co-workers were pretty funny in chastising her about the trip, making it out like she was pushing me too hard or something, when actually I was totally up for it.
One woman said to her, "He just rode two-thousand miles across the country in four days, and now you're making him ride up to New Hampshire?"
Susan cooly dismissed her protest saying, "He's a hard-core biker...he'll do it no problem. He loves doing it." You gotta love it when your woman sticks up for you to others. She's right; I do love doing it.
The first hour of the ride up was hell because of the traffic. On a Friday afternoon in the summer, everybody and his brother in Massachusetts is either heading to the Cape or New Hampshire. It was a beautiful day though, which lasted through the whole weekend. Once we broke free of the heavy traffic, the second half of the ride up was just beautiful.
Susan used to travel a lot with her ex-husband, and she has a knack for finding perfect places to stay, like the Kancamagus Motor Lodge in Lincoln. Just as advertised, it offers "big hotel amenities at small motel prices." The first thing Susan looks for besides a decent rate is if the place has a restaurant. After a long day of sight-seeing if you don't want to have to go back out again just to eat, it's nice not to have to. This place has two restaurants, a nice sports bar/pub, and a more upscale café with an outdoor patio. We took full advantage of that, enjoying great food at night in the pub, and a delicious breakfast in the morning out on the patio.
We had a cozy room on the 2nd floor with a private balcony that gave us a nice view of the mountains. The place is a throwback - not super modern - but very clean, well kept, and comfy. Another selling point Susan looks for is a refrigerator in the room, since it's not exactly convenient to deal with a cooler when you're on a motorcycle. It was nice to stock that sucker with some beers so we could enjoy some quiet time together out on our balcony just enjoying the view. I honestly don't think she could've picked a better place; it was just great.
The first place we went on Saturday was Loon Mountain. They have a gondola skyride that goes up to the top of the mountain, and we wanted to go take in the view.
Heading up...it's quite a long ride actually, and there's not a lot of ventilation in the gondola either on a hot day.
The gondola summit...
...and the truly spectacular view from the top of Loon Mountain. I don't ski, but it was easy for even me to see why this place is such a popular destination in the winter time. Just beautiful.
Down off the mountain top it was time to ride the historic and scenic Kancamagus Highway. New Hampshire is not a helmet state, so we enjoyed a little taste of freedom for a change. I'm so used to wearing a helmet that it really feels weird without one, but there's no doubt it's far more comfortable on a hot day.
The highway begins at the Pemigewasset River. so we stopped for a couple of quick pictures of me here on the bike...
...and the great view of the rushing waters of the river from the bridge. It's really, really beautiful up there, and I still can't believe we got such perfect weather for our trip.
The ride on this scenic byway is just about 35 miles of sometimes steep, twisty road that runs through the White Mountain National Forest. This is a shot Susan took from the bike:
"What's wrong?" Susan said in my ear.
"You just watch," I told her, "as soon as the slightest gap opens in front of us, they're gonna come screaming by us at about 90."
"No way!" she cried. "There's no room to pass on this road...look at all the traffic in front of us!"
There were four cagers in front of us, and because the road was so frequently twisty and there was so much oncoming traffic, you'd have thought she was right. But I just knew. Not two minutes later, the road straightened out just a bit, but even so there wasn't much room between the lead cage and the next bend. Sure as shit though, the punks made their move. No sooner did the one in the lead cross the yellow line and gun it just past me, a Ford F-350 towing a 5th wheel camper came around the corner coming straight toward us. Mr. Rice Rocket had no choice but to cut me off to get out of the way and avoid being a grease spot, which of course went up my ass about a mile.
I pulled right up beside this kid and his girlfriend in their frigging shorts, sandals, and full-face helmets, and when he looked over at me I glared right through his face shield, yelling "NICE MOVE DICK-HEAD!"
Susan was right in my ear..."WHAT are you doing!" she said. "There are four of them!"
I don't think I need to tell you what my answer to that was, but her worries didn't last. The lead jackhole decelerated like there was a deer in the road, rejoined his buddies, who all slowed and kept an obvious distance. I could see them mistaking me for a patch if I had my vest on, but I wasn't wearing it. Whatever the reason, they wanted no part of me. Although they never came near me again, their idiocy was as yet incomplete. The next window that opened saw the first two barely make it past, but the last two had to cut back in to avoid a head-on, drawing several angry horn blasts from the cagers. After a few minutes, another gap opened and they were finally gone.
I remember telling Susan that it's because of assholes like them that so many people have a bad opinion of all motorcyclists. The only thing she had to say was, "You really called that one...they did exactly what you said they were gonna do."
I love "old New England" taverns like this one, basically a converted farmhouse, but you get great food and service because you're not paying for the drapes.
Ice cold draft served in Mason Jars...yep...you know you're in Maine! We really enjoyed our lunch here at 302 West, and we'll definitely be back again.
As it turned out, all the old classic cars were out, doing some sort of an organized cruise on the Kanc that day. We rode behind this beautifully restored 1964 Chevy Impala SS on the way back to Lincoln, and I'm happy to report there were no further crotch rocket encounters.
We closed out the day with a quick shoot down to Woodstock and a few drinks at the Woodstock Inn. Then it was back to the motel for a nice relaxing dinner. Sunday morning came with a nice surprise for the trip back home.
By wild coincidence, Jackson and some of "the family" were up in Vermont over the weekend for a wedding, and through the wonder of the cell phone, we were able to all hook up in Lincoln and ride home together. Of course, we had to hang out and have a few beers in the parking lot first. We may have stopped for a few on the way back too, but don't quote me on it. I don't want anyone to get the idea that I drink.
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