Rolling Thunder XXI

Zig and I arrived in VA safe and sound, if not a bit road-weary, on Friday afternoon. We swapped our two wheels for a cage and met up with K’s roommates to enjoy some most-welcome libations. From there it was off to dinner at a restaurant that’s managed by a mutual friend of theirs, and then back to the abode for many hours of 9 ball (and many, many more drinks).

Saturday dawned bright and much too early. 11am. Yep; 11am. But the rest of the house wasn’t faring much better. Ok, Mike and Zig - and maybe K - were feeling fine (damn them all), but the rest of us girls were hurtin’ for certain and there was a lot of lounging on the sofa, eyes glazed and watching TV. We did manage to head out around 4 and get a bite to eat and choke a couple of beers down. From there, it was off to DC to check out some of the memorials.

(When we were walking around we saw this sign. Someone has a sense of humor!)

Sunday morning – we’d had a plan to be on the road by 8-ish, but we woke up with a hunger for a real breakfast (instead of the sandwich stuff we’d planned to bring with us and eat in the parking lot). So Zig and I shot to the food store and stocked up on eggs, bread, pancake mix, etc. and cooked up a good hearty start to the day.

The down side to this was that we didn’t arrive to the Pentagon until after 10:00…and by this time the main parking lot was filled to the brim. All bikes at this point were sent off to satellite parking areas, so we followed the directions administered by the multitude of detail personnel and finally managed to set our kickstands to the pavement by 10:30. They didn’t come up again until almost 3:00. A long time to sit in the hot sun in the middle of a parking lot. We made the most of it; did some walking around, checked out the sights and made some friends around us. At one point, we saw a trio of helicopters approaching (apparently this indicates someone important is in one of them and the other two are just decoys)…

Eventually we got word that our turn in the procession was approaching so we fired things up and took our position along the side roads which would lead us past the main lot and from there, out to central DC, proper.

Rounding the bend and rolling down into the city, we were greeted by hundreds, if not thousands of people lining the streets. Shouts of support, banners thanking us, hand slaps as we passed by, veterans saluting, etc. It evokes waves of emotions and when they hit you, chills run up and down your entire body. It’s an awesome feeling to be a part of something that carries so much meaning. To see veterans, some of them severely disabled, lining the streets to thank us, is truly humbling.

For me, the highlight of this event has always been the sight of the Marine at attention as we pass by. This incredible display of will and determination has stuck with me the since the first time I saw it, many years ago. This Marine stands at attention from the morning hours, until each and every motorcycle has passed. That’s hours and hours, in temps that were in the 80’s, and he’s wearing a black jacket! Truly amazing and awe inspiring.

From here, we rolled through some more streets and then back over the bridge headed for the outskirts. K snapped a few more pics as we rolled along;

Here was a touching flag, flown behind another rider’s bike. It's a picture of a soldier and along the bottom, it reads; "Bring My Brother Home".

At this point, we needed to get back to the house, as K was hosting a BBQ and we were running short on time. We made a break for an exit and rolled on the throttles, not stopping until we reached the food store near her house. Loading all the necessary BBQ requirements into any available packing space, we were off to the house.

Folks began arriving shortly after our return and the grilles were set into motion. We played some more pool, hung out on the deck, made some new friends and had a general all-around good time. One of their friends (Mark) was an authentic bagpiper and he broke out his pipes and played us a few tunes. How cool was that! (I love the pipes!)

Here’s a pic of him as he was getting started – It's tough to make him out, as the daylight was all but gone at this point.


Here are some clips of him playing. Again; no daylight = lousy picture (the glowing green thing in the bottom right was the pool). But you can hear the sound, and that’s what I was angling for. Ahhh, sweet melodies.





We partied until about midnight-thirty before calling it an evening. We had a long day ahead of us so it was (relatively) important that we get some sleep under our belts.

Monday morning, we were up and out the door in good time. Bikes were repacked, kickstands were raised and we turned onto the road which would eventually see us back to our own driveways…a mere 8 hours later. Traffic took it easy on us this time around, and we had no problems (which is always nice).

A big 'THANKS!' goes out to K for hosting us, and to E for helping shoulder the task of entertaining two really wonderful, funny, and handsome bikers from Boston. (Oh yeah; we're amazingly humble, too.)

This brings my Rolling Thunder XXI experience to a close. I recommend this trip to anyone that hasn’t done it before – the camaraderie, the emotions, the sheer importance of it – it’s truly inspirational.

I can’t wait to do it again.

Ride Hard, Take Chances

Ride to Rolling Thunder XXI

The bike was packed, the forecast was calling for four straight days of sunshine, and I had a destination; DC, for the 2008 annual Rolling Thunder rally. Zig would be accompanying me this year, and our departure time was set for 7am.

The sun was beginning to break free of the morning clouds when we pulled out of his driveway and pointed our tires southwards. There was a small fee to be paid before we could relish in the speed and ease of the highways; 3 miles of slow moving townfolk, but then, there it was - the on-ramp!

Sliding gently into the turn, leaning the bikes ever lower as we throttled up, we rocketed out of the bend and assumed our place in the pavement race. Being pleasantly surprised to find the traffic moving well, it didn’t take us long to set a good pace - a pace which brought a constant array of new vehicles and faces into view as we left the olds ones to fade in our mirrors.

Traffic treated us well right into Providence and beyond; a nice omen, for certain. Things were holding up for us as we hammered across the CT border in just under an hour’s time. At this pace, we should be able to reach our destination in the hoped-for 8 hours. The one caveat; the dreaded NYC! I’d yet to encounter an easy path through that dragon’s lair. But surprises were aplenty upon this ride; NYC offered minimal resistance as we laid waste to it’s roadways, and sailed across it’s flagship delayer; the GW Bridge. In a previously unheard of time, we found ourselves safely across the moat called Hudson and welcomed into the folds of New Jersey.

Ahh, but such a treacherous wench is that Jersey… She offers herself up to you with promises of unencumbered speed and ease of passage. 6 lanes of travel! Three ‘express’ lanes to the left, 3 ‘local/truck’ lanes to the right. Such heady temptations – should we take the left lanes? The right lanes? The correct answer is both! However, to facilitate such bold moves, one needs a vehicle capable of quick changes and sudden bursts of speed. Thankfully, Zig and I had brought just such vehicles with us.

We started with the express lanes, but when the wily Jersey threw many miles of backup and congestion upon us, we split the guardrails and were soon hammering along the local lanes, slicing between trucks and other assorted large vehicles. When Jersey caught on to our deceit, she rallied her many-wheeled vehicles to her aid and we soon found ourselves being hemmed in again. And Jersey would not be denied a second time. She made sure of this by drawing upon her fail-safe; the infernal ‘lane merge’!! Ahh yes, where you bring 6 lanes of travel down to 3. There would be no respite for us this time, as both groups of lanes fell victim to this dastardly device.

And there we found ourselves; helpless, as the sea of multi-axled vehicles surrounded us on all sides, slowing us further and further until we had no choice but to surrender our boots to the blacktop. We’d rolled the dice against the holiday traffic and it looked like we were going to lose.

Our hopes for a smooth day weren’t entirely dashed, though. Once we were able to finally break free of the vile vehicle constraints, we hopped onto the throttles yet again in an attempt to wrest back some of the time which we’d lost. We sailed through Delaware with nary a blink of the eye. I think a couple of LEO’s doing speed detail were aware of something passing by them, but they were unable to lock onto the blue and black streaks as we shot past.

Passing into Maryland, our roll of the dice finally came to a stop and sure enough; we’d crapped out. The 495 beltway is apparently in cahoots with Jersey, and that evil vixen had called ahead. Waiting for us was more deadlocked traffic and we were once again forced to introduce the soles of our boots to the hot blacktop. Our one consolation was that we were on the outer loop. While we were engaged in an infuriating game of hurry up and wait, at least we had some periods of movement. The traffic on the inner loop was not moving at all. It became ever more apparent that we’d better pay attention and not miss our exit. If we had to double back (via the inner loop), we’d be proper F’d for certain.

Spotting our exit ahead, we carved a path through the near immobile metal machinery and made a break for it. Sparing a quick glance at the directions taped to my dash, we signaled right turns at the top of the off-ramp and tore open the throttles.

Slicing hard around the corner, our right feet scraping along the tar to keep ourselves from lowsiding, we were graced with the sight of a twisty one-laner, carving its way beneath a most-welcome canopy of thick branches and leaves. The accompanying shadows bathed us with their cool air and fresh country scents. Hard to believe that we’d just been on a concrete jungle mere moments earlier.

Sensing that we were now free from further highway hindrances, we eased back on the RPM’s to allow proper homage to the surrounding scenery. No need to be shredding these serene streetways; better to meander a bit and soak in the peaceful atmosphere.

A right turn, followed by a left, and we were pulling up in front of our destination. And what a destination it turned out to be! Palatial and inviting, this house was surely a welcome sight to two tired and road weary bikers. Before we’d even had a chance to dismount, there appeared at the doorway the two lovely maidens who’d been gracious enough to extend the invite to us in the first place; Kerry and Erin.

Hugs were exchanged and we were advised that cold beers were waiting for us in the fridge - is there any better way to be welcomed? (Well, ok, there is a better way, but these ladies are our friends! So get those naughty thoughts out of your heads!)

And such was our ride down to DC last Friday. (Those of you who are used to my writing style may recognize a few embellishments here and there.) I’ll get the actual Rolling Thunder rally wrap-up on here by week’s end, and I promise to stick to just the facts, ma’am.

Ride Hard, Take Chances

Rolling Thunder

Zig and I are hitting the road first thing tomorrow morning. Looking at about 8 hours on the highways before we pull into our hostess' driveway tomorrow afternoon. A few friends are meeting up with us and we'll utilize some frosties to clear the road dust from our throats.

Saturday will be spent doing some sight-seeing and checking out the Vietnam Wall. This will be my 4th trip to The Wall and every time, I'm overwhelmed by the magnitude of emotions that it evokes.

Sunday will be Rolling Thunder; staging in the Pentagon parking lot in the morning. Black balloons rising towards the skies at noontime will signal the run's commencement, and our turn to roll out will eventually arrive. We'll make a few turns, do some accordian-ing as the pack tightens and loosens, wave to the throngs of bystanders, and try to get some pics taken. After we've had our fill, we're breaking off and heading to a BBQ (not sure what kind of a BBQ involves a hot tub, but we've been told that a hot tub is definitely involved).

Monday will be the long ride back home. Weather looks to be quite cooperative for the whole weekend, though; sunny and mid 70's (Where was that stuff this past weekend? I know 10 bikers that would have loved to have had some of that! Hopefully you guys have all warmed back up by now...)

Here's wishing everyone a great long weekend. Now get out there and ride!

Pig Roast & Ride From Hell

This year’s pig roast was another success. Everyone seemed to have a great time, feedback has been excellent, and most importantly; everyone got home safely. That includes the crew from NY. Jeezus, did they ever have a trip from Hell, though. 11+ hours in the rain on Friday, just to get here. Then for Sunday’s departure; rain again. Then, to top all that off, their last leg of the trip (Monday) consisted of not just rain, but temps in the 30’s, and hail. Friggin’ HAIL! It’s almost June, and they’re having to deal with 30’s and hail? What the frig?!?!

I’m going to have a talk with the weather gods. Sure, they came through for me in a big way on Saturday by clearing the rain out and giving me 70 degrees and sunshine for the party, but I’m not sure it was worth it. Putting my buds through a thousand miles of rain, cold, and hail? That's not very nice at all. Must have been sheer misery.

Just shows ta go ya; they’re a bunch of hard core riders. Beat ‘em to shit in the saddle and they just keep on going.

Back to the party; the pig came out excellent as always. Subsequent to it’s completion, the fire pit was stoked a bit high at times, requiring some attention from the hose, but all in all, we managed to get through it without burning down anything major.

Here’s a pic (courtesy of Greg), showing the guilty parties. Looks like a missile launch going on behind them…

The ice luge once again claimed many victims…er…customers and the beer pong finished off whatever brain cells were left standing. Amazingly, this year’s party wound up being the earliest to end, out of all the Cinco parties to date. I put the last guy to bed at 2am, which thankfully allowed me a few hours of sleep before it was time to start cleaning. Had most of the place tidied up in time for the NY crew to stop over for breakfast again. It was good to send them off with full stomachs - I wish I could have done something about the weather, though. Got the dishes done, remaining trash bagged, and lastly; the floors washed by noon-thirty. That left me the rest of the afternoon to rest and relax. (In other words, I sat my ass in the recliner and watched TV.)

Final numbers are a bit rough to tally, as there were many faces there that I didn’t recognize (friends of a friend of a friend, kind of thing). But the names/faces I was able to place totaled 118, so another good turnout. Another friend of mine broke his camera out and snapped 165 pics, apparently. I have yet to see them but I will try and get some posted when they come in.

In summation; here’s to the NY crew. You rode hard and you rode long. And it was great to see you guys! Can’t wait to share some more laughs with you in a month’s time. (Just be sure to leave that rain and hail shit at home!)

Gas Saving Tips!

With the cost of gas soaring to uncharted heights, I figured it was time to put my brain to good use and come up with some tips to save fuel. I strongly recommend (and stand behind) each and everyone one of these.

Tip #1
Run red lights. And stop signs. And railroad warning signals (provided the train hasn’t arrived yet). By running those, you’re not standing still with your engine running. See? Saving gas! (Not to mention the added benefit of reducing wear on your brakes. More savings!)

Tip #2
Tailgate. Get just as close as you can to the guy in front of you. Ever watched NASCAR? It creates a slipstream effect, cutting your wind resistance. Less wind resistance = less work your engine does. Less engine work = less fuel used. So get right up on that bumper in front of you!

Tip #3
Speed like hell. The faster you drive, the sooner you get to your destination. And the sooner you get to your destination, the sooner you turn your vehicle off. And a vehicle that isn’t running, isn’t using any fuel. What’s that? It costs more to get there faster? Hello?!? The car isn’t running any more! Savings!

Tip #4
Get all the blue-hairs off of the roadways. They drive too slowly (see tip # 3, above). Banish ‘em all to Florida (that’s God’s waiting room anyways).

Tip #5
Warm your engine up for at least an hour in the morning. A warm engine is a happy engine. And a happy engine requires less fuel. (It’s true, I read it somewhere.)

Tip # 6
Peel out. Every time. This will wear your tires down until they’re flat. And everyone knows that flat surfaces put less stress on your engine than rough surfaces do. Yep; get rid of those annoying things called ‘treads’.

Tip #7
Shift up as fast as possible. In fact, you should be in top gear by the time you’ve reached 15mph. Think about it; the lower your engine’s RPM’s, the less gas you’re using.

Tip #8
NEVER car pool. Hello? If you pulled out of your driveway and went straight to work, just think of all the gas you’d save, rather than driving all over the place to pick up a couple of slobs you work with. You don’t even like them, anyways, why the hell do you want to share a ride with them? Freeloading bums. Let them take their own cars.

Tip #9
If you’ve got more than 4 cylinders in your vehicle, then you’re a greedy bastard. Send me your address and I’ll come rip those extra ones out for you, no charge. (And when your vehicle doesn’t run after that, just think of how much gas you’ll be saving then!)

Tip #10
Show up late for work. Hey, rush hour traffic is the number one enemy of Tip #3 (above). Avoid it at all costs. And if you lose your job? Well then, that’s a bunch of driving you don’t have to do anymore, isn’t it!

Tip #11
Turn your AC off, you wanker. And don’t even think about opening your windows - do you realize how much wind drag that creates? Just take a chain saw and cut the roof off of your vehicle. Now you’ve got AC, 24/7. And, a sleeker vehicle! Sleeker = smaller wind footprint. Oh, we’re saving some money now!

And there you have them; my handy dandy, helpful hints for saving fuel. If everyone incorporated these tips into their daily lives…well…we’d be some fu*ked, wouldn’t we?

Ride Hard, Take Chances. And get the hell off of my bumper!

Windshield Tech!

I’d spent most of the day (Saturday) cleaning the house - gotta have a somewhat presentable homestead when everyone shows up in less than a week…but I digress. I’d had enough of the happy housemaid stuff and needed something a little more enjoyable to focus on. And swapping out windshields was just the (quick) fix I needed.

First; some background; the stock windshield is too high, so Zig and I bought some low profile ones off of eBay. Zig went with a 4.5 inch one and I opted for an 8 inch one. Zig’s shield came in and he installed it, but wound up not liking it. It was too short; the wind coming over it, combined with the wind riding up from his fairing, was buffeting the crap out of his head. I’ve been keeping an eye out for my windshield to show up…not sure why mine took over a week longer to arrive than Zig’s did, but whatever. Mine showed up Saturday morning and I was itching to get it on and tried out. So let’s proceed, shall we?

Here’s a pic of the bike with the original windshield…

Now it was time to lay out the items that would be needed. Let’s see…windshield? Check (still in protective wrapper). Torx wrenches? Check. Beer? Check!


(The windshield comes flat, but it bends easily, to fit the contour of the fairing.)

Removing the old windshield was a breeze; three bolts hold the shield in place. I should have realized (from looking at the new windshield) that I wouldn’t need to fully remove the bolts, in order to remove the windshield. But I did remove the bolts all the way. No biggie, just means a few more twists of the torx wrench.

Here we find my bike, sans windshield. Poor thing looks bald! (That's the top of the rear seat sticking up in the background.)
Here’s a shot of the old shield, next to the new shield. Notice the new shield has had the protective wrapping removed. Notice also the level of tinting of the new shield. I would like to point out that this windshield was touted by the seller as being “not too dark. You can see through it.” Sure looks pretty dark to me.

What’s that? Oh…yeah...there’s a new beer in the pic. Uhm…what can I say…I really worked up a sweat with those extra turns of the torx bolts.

And here we have the new windshield, installed. The whole process took less than 5 minutes.
The last step was to test it out. Rolling out to the highway, I ripped things wide open and soon was screaming along at just under a hundred. (Gotta get a full-wind test!). Results? The windshield is too short and there’s too much wind. Dammit! Not to mention that I can see through this thing about as easily as I can see through my sunglasses at midnight. Which means that there's an area at the bottom of my range of vision which is basically...well, I can't call it a blind spot, but it sure isn't easy to view anything on the ground that comes within 5 feet of the front of the bike (which includes everything that goes under my tire...).

I had the bike out on the highways again last night, had to run up to the North Shore. 80's and 90's for long stretches, which was a good real-world test of the shield. But again; too much wind. And a new twist; with the backflow of air that's going on, I had to keep pushing my shades back onto my face, as they were being blown forwards, off of my head. Not exactly a fun time.

So this shield will be great for around-town and commuting (rarely get over 50mph), but for highway trips, I'm going to have to go back to the stock one. Or maybe try another shorter-than-stock one, if I can find one that's clear (enough of this "You can see through it" crap). And if nothing else works, I'll just try cutting the stock one down.

Because I'm certain I can't screw that up...

Ride Hard, Take Chances

Bar Fight Last Night!

I’d just rolled into my driveway after a long day. The sun had long settled down for a well-deserved rest, and I was thinking I might do the same. I kicked around the idea of doing a quick wash of the bike (filthy, from the past weekend’s rains), but the lack of daylight allowed me to justify just rolling it into the garage and slowly lowering the door.

I strolled into the house and started kicking off the boots. Ahh but wait, the phone is buzzing. I have a text – It’s Michigan Paul (see prior post; he’s in town and we’ve been trying to catch up with each other). Looks like out schedules have finally lined up and he’s asking if I’m interested in meeting up for a beer. Hell yeah I am! So it’s back to the garage and up goes the door. A minute later, I’m blasting down the highway, heading for the agreed-upon watering hole.

Arriving first, I saunter into the tavern and survey my surroundings. Patronage is light this evening – all the better for me. No hassles finding a couple empty bar stools to lay claim to. Sliding my ass into place, I order a beerverage from the buxom bar maiden and settled in. A few minutes later, Paul and Bettina come in and we exchange hugs and greetings and the laughter and story telling ensues.

This goes on for several hours and we’re having a grand old time. We’re not bothering anyone else and no one else is bothering us. Then the bar maiden informs us that it’s last call. Whoa – last call? Where has the time gone? Oh, that’s right; it’s a Monday night, and last call is at 11. All the better, actually, for tonight is a school night for some of us. (And those who don’t have to work in the morning have an even more daunting task of driving back to Michigan…)

The night has been going marvelously and it looks like we might make it out of this place unscathed…when suddenly the bill is deposited in front of us. Paul starts to reach for it, but I grab it out of his hand. I inform him that I’m paying. He fixes me with a cold stare and informs me, that HE is paying. We stand and face each other… Suddenly everything is quiet….it’s high noon at the OK corral. Conversations cease in mid-sentence…people hurriedly rush for the exit…the bouncer dives for an empty booth. Paul distracts me with a “Wow, look at the funbags on her!” and when I turn to look, he snatches the bill from my grasp. That’s it! It’s go time!

Next thing I know, fists are flying, bottles are smashing, bar stools are crashing through windows – pure and utter mayhem. I land a solid uppercut, nearly lifting Paul off of the floor entirely. He responds with a vicious roundhouse which leaves me cross-eyed and calling for my mother. I stumble backwards, steady myself and pull my blade from its sheath. He pulls a gun. Damn.

Tossing the knife aside (inadvertently impaling a passing busboy), I dive back into the fray. But he’s ready for me. He sidesteps my charge and brings the butt of the gun down on the back of my head. Now I’m starting to get annoyed. I grab the popcorn machine and, with a cry of “Taste Hot Buttered Kernels!”, I bring it crashing down upon his head. There’s a sudden silence. Everyone else has cleared to the outer edges of the room, not daring to get caught up in the melee. I’m standing there, gasping for breath, exulting in my victory…when I feel something grab my boot. Looking down, I see Paul climbing out from under the machine. With a final shove, the machine soars over the bar and he’s on his feet again. He grabs a bar stool, tearing the center stand free from the concrete and begins swinging it over his head like a giant war hammer. I’m timing the swings and preparing to make my move, when I hear the barmaid whisper in my ear “You’re not supposed to pay, when it’s your birthday”. Her sultry voice, combined with the intoxicating scent of her perfume, distracts me. I turn to survey her heaving bosom one more time...taking my eyes off of Paul and that swinging bar stool...and that’s when the lights went out in Georgia.

I came to on my back, with Paul’s boot-heel pressing firmly on my neck. “Looks like I’m paying, dirtbag” he snarls at me. I tried to twist free, but he simply pressed down, cutting off both my air and circulation. Just before I blacked out again, I saw him hand his credit card to the lovely bar maiden with a tip of his hat and a smile.

When I came to a second time, everything was quiet. There were some boards covering the holes in the windows, the broken popcorn machine was sticking out of the trash, and the floor had been swept around me. Slowly easing myself to my feet, I staggered outside to an empty parking lot. Empty, save for my bike…and the bar stool (complete with a dent that appeared to match the contour of my head) that had been bungied to the seat. Getting closer, I could see a note pinned to it with my knife. Tearing it free, I scanned the words and a smile began to (painfully) spread across my face.

“Happy Birthday, you old F***. See you in August.”

PFC Brian Moquin / Keene Swap Meet

Memorial Run for PFC Brian Moquin. Cavalry Scout, KIA in Afghanistan, 5-5-06

Saturday dawned cold and dreary. Kev rolled into the driveway around 8 and we caught up on things. Hard to believe it's been almost a year since we've shared some tales and laughter. His schedule wasn't going to allow doing the run with us today, but he wanted to notch some mileage on the day so he was going to ride out to Worcester with me and Zig and then roll back home. As it turned out; Zig was stuck working later than he'd hoped so time ran out on Kev's plan and he wound up just heading home right from my house. But he filled me in on his current goings-on; he's digging the teaching thing, and that's way cool. I admire folks that can do that kind of thing - I wouldn't have the patience. But he loves it, so I'm happy for him.


Zig was able to make a break at around 9:30, so we agreed to meet up off of 495, as that would save the time/trouble of trying to meet up and then hitting the highway. 10:25, I crested the bridge just ahead of our designated meeting spot and there he was; bottom of the hill, ready and waiting. I rocked on past and he rolled out behind me. Falling into position, we hammered down the roads, side by side, desperately trying to make up for lost time.


Registration was slated to run from 10 to 11...we pulled into the parking lot at 10:56. Not that they'd have turned us away, far from it. But it was nice to see that we'd still made it in under the official deadline (I hate being late).


We registered, got our wrist bands, I picked up a shirt, and then we started meandering about, checking out the bikes and the riders. The weather wasn't cooperating at all. Cold, heavily overcast, rain was in the air. Still, we had about 100 bikes show up (plenty more bikes were behind me when I took this shot)...




They certainly had the traffic detail thing covered...

Hell, they even had things covered in the event we had a mishap along the way...

The folks running the show decided to let registration go until 11:30, in case there were folks that were on the fence about riding or not and might show up late. Sure enough, around 11:25, we had a couple hand fulls of bikes show up and they rushed over and got signed up.

We rolled out onto Rte 20 and banked hard to the left, rolling by the stopped traffic that was rapidly accumulating in the oncoming lanes. Picking up 140, we headed for the hills around Mt Wachusett - and the rain started in on us. Nothing too bad at first, just some drizzle that slowly built up to a steadier pace. Then came the sleet. The what? Yeah; sleet. It was frikkin' cold! But those of us with windshields ducked down a bit lower, turned our collars up and squinted through the mess.

We eventually arrived at the Rte 140 Pub Rendezvous (I like the name!) and crammed inside. There was steaming hot chili waiting for us, as well as several lovely barmaids, ready to fill our orders for beers and mixed drinks. We hung out there for about an hour, got warmed up again, then hit the road and completed our trip, ending back at the KAS-BAR for more libations and food.

There were a ton of raffle items there, among them was a stainless steel Coleman cooler, that had the Budweiser logos on it. Here's a pic of it, sitting here in my office...

Wait, if it's sitting in my office...that must mean....? Yep, I won it! Sweet! Especially since I was needing a cooler, ever since Brother Bill happened to launch my old one out of the back of his truck on the highway. Ahhh, but that's a story for another time.

Saturday night, we caught up with some friends and hit a Blues bar in Worcester and jammed the night away. Good times!

Keene Swap Meet

Sunday morning was cold and wet again. Zig had to ref so he headed for home. My destination was north, to Keene, NH, for the annual Spring swap meet. Jumping on the Pike, I shot out to western MA, picked up 91 north and before too long (couple hours?) found myself in Bennington, VT. I picked up Rte 9 heading east and was soon in NH. Winding through the streets, I arrived to a dirt entrance which had been pounded into soupy mud by all the cars going in and out. That's right; cars. This is a MOTORCYCLE swap meet, people! Now I understand that some folks need to bring a 4-wheeler to lug home the stuff they're going to buy, but most of the folks walking around weren't buying anything that couldn't fit into a saddle bag. This event used to draw hundreds of bikes. When I parked yesterday afternoon, I counted 37. Including mine. I imagine the weather had a lot to do with it, but c'mon people.

I was looking for handlebars, throttle and brake cables, maybe a tail light setup (all for the Fatboy project), but I didn't find anything that struck my fancy. (I did pick up a pair of gloves, just so that I'd not come away empty handed.) Oh well, at least the weather appeared to be lightening up a bit. I pointed the bike south and headed homewards. The sun almost made it out, but never quite broke through the clouds.

But today, back at work? Blue skies, sunny, and 70 degrees. Of course.

Michigan Paul is in the area this weekend, too - we'd hoped to catch up with each other for a beer, but our schedules don't seem to be cooperating. Oh well, there's always August when Zig and I will be out there.

That's it for the weekend wrap. I hope everyone had a great weekend and maybe was able to get some miles on.

Ride Hard, Take Chances

Yo Ho Ho and a Bottle o' RUM!!

One of the hardest working guys in this place surprised me this morning. But before I get to that, a little background; This guy is already working when I get here in the morning. This guy is working when I'm eating lunch. This guy is working when I go home at night (unless I'm here real late). And this guy is always...I mean always, smiling. Every time I see him, I make sure to swing by and say hello and share a few laughs with him. You'd think this guy would have a ton of friends here, right? Well here's the catch; he's the cleaning guy. That shouldn't matter, right? But it sure seems to for some folks.

Anyways. This guy has mentioned before that there's a certain rum he likes to drink and that it's very good and all. This morning, I swing by his 'office' to say hello and he tells me to hold on a minute. He goes to his things and pulls out a bottle of this rum for me! The bottle itself looks too nice for me to ever dare opening, let alone actually drinking it. (I'm sure that won't hold me back for long, though.) I mean, just look at this! (Apologies for the pic quality, had to take it with my phone.)

Yeah, that's a palm-leaf wrapped bottle (wrapped by hand!), complete with handle and everything!

Having never heard of this stuff before, I opted to do a quick look on-line. Holy crap, this stuff is like the holy grail of rums! Check out this write-up I found;

"Ron Zacapa Centenario is a legend amongst rums. According to many sources, it's won so many tasting competitions that it's actually been retired as a contender, and is instead used by the judges to calibrate their palettes as to what a truly fine aged rum can achieve."

Quite nice. I'll be sure to break this open this weekend. Maybe I'll even save some (maybe) for the ice luge at the pig roast...

Yo Ho Ho, me hearties!