Thursday night. Telephone. Ringing. It’s Ed. It’s Ed and he’s got an offer for me; he and a couple of his buddies are heading up to Vermont on Saturday, to do an overnight. Am I interested in joining them? Hellz yeah! The weather was calling for heavy rain on Friday night, but then clearing and warming for the rest of the weekend. Perfect weather for a Fall ride.
Saturday morning dawned damp and dreary, and with a bit of a chill in the air. The storm from the night before had been mighty, as evidenced by the tree debris all over the roadways. The rain had ended, but the clouds hadn’t yet relinquished their stranglehold on the sky. Donning our gear, we made a pact with the sun; it would shred the clouds, providing us with some welcome warmth, and we’d shred some pavement, leading the way westward for it’s daily trek.
True to our word, we rocked and rolled up 495, picked up Rte 2 and hammered our way westwards as the sun began to hold up it’s end of the bargain; the sky lightening behind us. Larger and larger breaks began appearing above us, and before long, blue was far outweighing grey - and found us crossing the state line, passing into New Hampshire.
Picking up Rte 9 out of Keene, we grazed the outskirts of the Green Mountains, then took them head-on. Slicing the corners we approached - and then pulled into - the lookout atop Hogback Mountain. The foliage was pretty amazing…
Firing up and rolling back out, we set the miles to passing beneath our tires. Our destination was Bennington, and we soon found ourselves within city limits. A hotel appeared before us, it’s welcoming “VACANCY” sign beckoning to weary road travelers. We commandeered a parking spot and headed towards the lobby. The lady working the counter informed us that they were all booked up – apparently unkempt and unshowered bikers aren’t welcome there. Shrugging, we headed back to the bikes and meandered a bit further down the road until we managed to secure evening accommodations at the famous Crackside…er…Kirkside Motor Lodge, now located conveniently beside the town church – presently in the process of being dismantled. (Religion has failed to take hold in this part of the village.)
After checking in and unpacking our bikes, we strolled uptown and found ourselves an Irish tavern for some solid and liquid sustenance. Having secured those items, we discussed our plans for the rest of the afternoon. The Sox weren’t on until 8 so that left us a bit of time to kill. And while we were sitting inside a perfectly good tavern, we felt our daylight would be better spent by checking out a local battle monument that I’ve been wanting to check out for years.
(Each year, when I make the trip from NY to Maine, with the Olean crew, we always pass this thing - the Bennington Battle Monument - and I always tell myself that I’m going to check it out someday. Well, that day would be today.)
It was a short jaunt to the outer skirts of town. We rumbled up the entrance street, the stone spire sticking far above the surrounding trees. Finding a spot to park, we did a walk-around, around the base, and checked out the statue of John Stark, and checked out the stonework of the monument itself.
Hey John, which way to the beer store? That way? Thanks man!
The story behind the monument; it was built to commemorate John Stark’s victory over the British, many moons ago. When they were designing what to build, the Governor at the time wanted something that was bigger than anything else around. He got his wish; the structure is 306 feet tall and is the tallest man-made structure in Vermont. There’s an observatory at 200 feet (which is as high as visitors can go - only maintenance people have access to the top 100 feet). So we plopped our $2 down for the ticket and took the ride up. Stepping out of the elevator, the first thing I noticed was the strong wind blowing through the open windows. Each of the 4 sides had protective, safety windows installed, but they were drawn open to allow visitors to poke their heads through and check out the scenery. Which I did…
Check out those maples!!
Ride Hard, Take Chances
Saturday morning dawned damp and dreary, and with a bit of a chill in the air. The storm from the night before had been mighty, as evidenced by the tree debris all over the roadways. The rain had ended, but the clouds hadn’t yet relinquished their stranglehold on the sky. Donning our gear, we made a pact with the sun; it would shred the clouds, providing us with some welcome warmth, and we’d shred some pavement, leading the way westward for it’s daily trek.
True to our word, we rocked and rolled up 495, picked up Rte 2 and hammered our way westwards as the sun began to hold up it’s end of the bargain; the sky lightening behind us. Larger and larger breaks began appearing above us, and before long, blue was far outweighing grey - and found us crossing the state line, passing into New Hampshire.
Picking up Rte 9 out of Keene, we grazed the outskirts of the Green Mountains, then took them head-on. Slicing the corners we approached - and then pulled into - the lookout atop Hogback Mountain. The foliage was pretty amazing…
Firing up and rolling back out, we set the miles to passing beneath our tires. Our destination was Bennington, and we soon found ourselves within city limits. A hotel appeared before us, it’s welcoming “VACANCY” sign beckoning to weary road travelers. We commandeered a parking spot and headed towards the lobby. The lady working the counter informed us that they were all booked up – apparently unkempt and unshowered bikers aren’t welcome there. Shrugging, we headed back to the bikes and meandered a bit further down the road until we managed to secure evening accommodations at the famous Crackside…er…Kirkside Motor Lodge, now located conveniently beside the town church – presently in the process of being dismantled. (Religion has failed to take hold in this part of the village.)
After checking in and unpacking our bikes, we strolled uptown and found ourselves an Irish tavern for some solid and liquid sustenance. Having secured those items, we discussed our plans for the rest of the afternoon. The Sox weren’t on until 8 so that left us a bit of time to kill. And while we were sitting inside a perfectly good tavern, we felt our daylight would be better spent by checking out a local battle monument that I’ve been wanting to check out for years.
(Each year, when I make the trip from NY to Maine, with the Olean crew, we always pass this thing - the Bennington Battle Monument - and I always tell myself that I’m going to check it out someday. Well, that day would be today.)
It was a short jaunt to the outer skirts of town. We rumbled up the entrance street, the stone spire sticking far above the surrounding trees. Finding a spot to park, we did a walk-around, around the base, and checked out the statue of John Stark, and checked out the stonework of the monument itself.
Hey John, which way to the beer store? That way? Thanks man!
The story behind the monument; it was built to commemorate John Stark’s victory over the British, many moons ago. When they were designing what to build, the Governor at the time wanted something that was bigger than anything else around. He got his wish; the structure is 306 feet tall and is the tallest man-made structure in Vermont. There’s an observatory at 200 feet (which is as high as visitors can go - only maintenance people have access to the top 100 feet). So we plopped our $2 down for the ticket and took the ride up. Stepping out of the elevator, the first thing I noticed was the strong wind blowing through the open windows. Each of the 4 sides had protective, safety windows installed, but they were drawn open to allow visitors to poke their heads through and check out the scenery. Which I did…
Check out those maples!!
We came back down - to find that the rain clouds had resumed control of the sky. We took cover on the downwind side of the obelisk until things abated, dried off the seats and fired things up. From there, it was a short side-trip to the package store and then back to the motel to do some priming before heading back to the Irish tavern to catch the Sox. We milled about for a while, polished off what we’d picked up, locked everything up and walked back to the bar.
Before long, our charm and charisma had won the hearts and minds of the locals on both sides of the bar. Hell, even the owner was buying us our drinks. We were laughing it up, watching the Sox dismantle the Indians, talking about the upcoming Pats game, just general good times. There was even the token grumpy Irish bartender, and we managed to get him to smile before we left. After the game was won, the owner (TJ) gave me his card (I still have it - it’s good for a free drink on any future visits!) and told us that he and his friends were heading to another bar that had a later last-call, and that we should head there as well. He gave me the name of the bouncer that would b working (Scooby) and said to tell this Scooby guy that we knew him (TJ) and we’d get in without having to pay the cover. Sweet! So they left and we finished our drinks and started the walk. Well, our minds were light (from watching the Sox victory - certainly not from the libations), and we wound up forgetting the directions, and the name of the bar we were looking for. Taking a gamble, we took a side street and walked…and walked…and walked until we finally came upon what sounded like quite the happening bar. So we walked in and when the bouncer approached, I confidently said “Hey Scooby, what’s happenin’?” To which he replied “What?” "Uhm…are you Scooby?" "Nope. There’s no Scooby here." "Oh (Damn - wrong bar!) Ok then…so how much is the cover?"
The bar itself was a mess of 19 and 20 year olds…oh wait…no, they were all 21 (wink wink) and the drinks were kinda hefty on the wallet. We had a couple of beers, listened to the band knock out a couple of not-bad AC/DC renditions, politely declined an offer to jump on a "party bus" that was headed to a bar in NY which stayed open until 4am, and then decided to head on back to the motel.
Arriving safely back at said motel, the guys headed off to sleep…but I had other plans. See, the scaffolding on the church beside the motel had been in the back of my mind for a while now. Climb it? Why, I would never do such a thing. To do that would involve trespassing, and I would never stoop to such activity. Being the law-abiding citizen that I am, I opted for going to bed, instead.
And I have no idea how these pictures wound up on my camera.
Before long, our charm and charisma had won the hearts and minds of the locals on both sides of the bar. Hell, even the owner was buying us our drinks. We were laughing it up, watching the Sox dismantle the Indians, talking about the upcoming Pats game, just general good times. There was even the token grumpy Irish bartender, and we managed to get him to smile before we left. After the game was won, the owner (TJ) gave me his card (I still have it - it’s good for a free drink on any future visits!) and told us that he and his friends were heading to another bar that had a later last-call, and that we should head there as well. He gave me the name of the bouncer that would b working (Scooby) and said to tell this Scooby guy that we knew him (TJ) and we’d get in without having to pay the cover. Sweet! So they left and we finished our drinks and started the walk. Well, our minds were light (from watching the Sox victory - certainly not from the libations), and we wound up forgetting the directions, and the name of the bar we were looking for. Taking a gamble, we took a side street and walked…and walked…and walked until we finally came upon what sounded like quite the happening bar. So we walked in and when the bouncer approached, I confidently said “Hey Scooby, what’s happenin’?” To which he replied “What?” "Uhm…are you Scooby?" "Nope. There’s no Scooby here." "Oh (Damn - wrong bar!) Ok then…so how much is the cover?"
The bar itself was a mess of 19 and 20 year olds…oh wait…no, they were all 21 (wink wink) and the drinks were kinda hefty on the wallet. We had a couple of beers, listened to the band knock out a couple of not-bad AC/DC renditions, politely declined an offer to jump on a "party bus" that was headed to a bar in NY which stayed open until 4am, and then decided to head on back to the motel.
Arriving safely back at said motel, the guys headed off to sleep…but I had other plans. See, the scaffolding on the church beside the motel had been in the back of my mind for a while now. Climb it? Why, I would never do such a thing. To do that would involve trespassing, and I would never stoop to such activity. Being the law-abiding citizen that I am, I opted for going to bed, instead.
And I have no idea how these pictures wound up on my camera.
Sunday morning dawned bright and welcoming. We packed up, cleared out the room, and broke for the edge of town. We picked up Rte 7 and headed south into Mass, to Rte 2 east. Passed through some of the Berkshire mountains and saw some AMAZING scenery. Snapped some pics while we were rolling along, but wasn’t able to get pics of the truly amazing stuff, as the roadway was too twisty-turny to allow for screwing around with a camera. But here’s what I was able to get;
And here’s a backwards, over-the-shoulder pic of Ed, waving to the camera. Hi Ed!
Not sure what was up with this little guy, but he hitchhiked through most of Western Mass. I don’t know where he was headed, but we must have passed his stop because he just up and disappeared at one point. Didn’t even leave a tip. Hey you little bastard, “Gas, Grass or Ass - nobody rides for free!”
And that was the overnighter to Bennington - a sweet Fall roundup ride. Thanks for the call, Ed!
And here’s a backwards, over-the-shoulder pic of Ed, waving to the camera. Hi Ed!
Not sure what was up with this little guy, but he hitchhiked through most of Western Mass. I don’t know where he was headed, but we must have passed his stop because he just up and disappeared at one point. Didn’t even leave a tip. Hey you little bastard, “Gas, Grass or Ass - nobody rides for free!”
And that was the overnighter to Bennington - a sweet Fall roundup ride. Thanks for the call, Ed!
Ride Hard, Take Chances
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