Do Not

The time had come to wash my riding gear – too many days of rain and road dirt had resulted in things developing a bit of a personality, if you know what I mean. I’ve washed this gear before, but I always got a kick out of the cleaning instructions on the tag inside the jacket. Of course I ignore these instructions and things have always come out fine. This time around, I snapped a couple of pics to share.

Here’s the cleaning instructions tag.



If you can’t make out what it says, there are basically a lot of “Do Not”’s on there:

Do not machine wash the outer garment.
Inner removable liner may be machine washed.
Maximum Temp 40C.
Do not iron.
Do not dry clean.
Do not bleach.
Do not soak.
Do not wring dry.
Rinse with care.
Gently sponge outer garment with a non-biological detergent.
Completely dry before storage.

Jeez – for something supposedly tough enough to handle interaction with pavement at high speeds, this stuff sure does sound pretty dainty. Besides, it says over on the right side of the tag that both the inner and outer garments are made from the same material (100% polyester). So how come I can wash one, but not the other? Who cares! They’re going into the machine!!

(First, I gotta remove the body armor – that stuff would stay wet for days, otherwise.)

I did put the dryer on “medium” heat and that seemed to be nice and gentle enough for the gear. Out it came; Nice and clean and smelling pristine!

Too bad it’s raining again today…

Ride Hard, Smell Pretty

Weekend Wrapup

Friday night, Matt and I hammered the highways in a northerly direction. Our destination? Bill D’s house in New Durham. Although, to be honest, we TRIED to hammer the highways. Traffic was anything but kind to us and we wore some skin off of our brake pads with all the stop-and-go. Eventually, though, we found ourselves pulling into the driveway of the aforementioned Bill D's house, and he had cold beers and a warm fire waiting for us on the deck. We pulled up a couple of chairs and let ourselves unwind and ease into the weekend mentality mode.
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A few beers later, I said my farewells and headed off to the house in Wolfeboro. The other guys were staying at Bill’s house, and their Saturday would be occupied with boating, dirt-biking and beer drinking. I was not so fortunate, I had work to do – the plan was to scrape and paint the deck. With any luck, I’d hoped to be able to knock that task out in one day. Matt was going to show up later in the afternoon and lend a hand, and then we’d kick back with beers and watch the lake.
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But, like everything else in life, things change. When I got up the next morning, I found that the hill leading down to the water was heavily overgrown and something really needed to be done about that. Switching gears, I put the painting stuff away and grabbed the loppers and shears and set to whacking the hell out of the overgrowth. 4 hours later (and my arms killing me), I surveyed the damage.

Satisfied with the carnage I’d created, I busied myself with yard cleanup and landscaping upkeep. And that’s when I saw the tree. The tree that had apparently come down earlier in the summer and taken some wires down with it. The same tree that the town had cut out of the wires and then left in my front yard. Sweet, thanks for that treat, guys! Let’s see what I have for tools here…ok, I have a saw, but it’s not a chain saw (damn). It’s a hand saw. But not just any hand saw, it’s a hand saw for making doll houses or some other equally small task. Here’s a pic to show you the hilarity I was faced with. Don’t worry Mr. Tree, there’s nothing to fear from this little guy.
By the time that task was completed, my mind was beginning to switch into “relaxation and beer” mode – and that’s when the text came in; Matt had a family issue pop up, and had to change his plans. Bill and the other Matt were headed back to Mass this afternoon and now Matt had to head out as well. I contemplated just hanging out for the night but said screw it. I cleaned up, managed to catch up with those guys on the road, had a beer and a bite with them, and then we all split the scene.

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Arriving back home, I caught up with McCarthy and the crew down in Seekonk. Pulling in, what did I see parked and waiting? Hey there, you look familiar!

Yep, it was my old Fatboy, and I'm happy to say that Big Bill has left the suicide clutch setup on there and loves it.

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Now by this time, it’d been a long day and I was only going to have a couple of beers and call it an early night. But when I got inside, I found a surprise waiting for me; this place has 35oz beers! Well now, I’d better only have one, then!

Whoops.

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Anyway, needless to say the evening wore on much longer than I’d planned and by the time I finally got home, it was rather late and I was rather wiped out. But not a problem, because it’s only Saturday night and I could rest up on Sunday!

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Or…I could get the guys together at a bar and catch the Pats game! (I’d like to go with Door #2 please, Alex.) But this wasn’t to be just another football-afternoon-at-a-bar scenario. Ohhhhh no. This was to be a grand event! The bar we went to has these things called ‘towers’. They serve the same purpose as a pitcher of beer, but these things take that concept to a much higher level. They hold 6 beers, have a frozen tube inside (to keep the beer cold, obviously), and have their own little tap! Sweet! Yes please, we’ll take one of those.

We’d barely gotten things underway when we were informed that Coors was doing a promotion and that for every Coors Light we bought, we’d get a free one. Even further; this covered the Towers, too, and if we bought a Coors Light tower, then we’d get a free one, too. Hmmm…this really puts us in a quandary. We hate Coors Light, but we love free beer! Well, we’d better give it a try. What’s the worst that can happen? Well, we were all reminded just how much we hate Coors Light (and it explains why they have to give the stuff away). It took some serious mind-over-matter will power to choke that crap down, but we managed. Thankfully, our waitress was aware of our distress and eased our pain by quickly restoring us to our beloved Bud Light. (We must have looked especially pained because she brought us two!)Look - smiles all around, once again! Yes, yes; Bud Light to the rescue! Throw that Coors Light stuff in the toilet (back where it came from!).
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The rest of the afternoon was spent in this manner; cheering our Pats on to another victory (sorry King), and doing our level best to wipe out the bar’s supply of towers.

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Needless to say; there was no resting and relaxing done on this day. It was another long day, but certainly well worth it. Great guys, Great times, and (mostly) great beer.

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This weekend goes into the “good” column.
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Ride Hard, Take Chances

Chasing Shorts

So the Shayne run was this past weekend (see following post - you get two for one today). Something else happened on Saturday morning that I left out of that write-up because this needs more detail than just a simple mention, but I didn't want to take away from that event. So here you go...

Saturday morning, I'm running some quick errands to the post office and the bank. Turning into the post office, I pull into a parking spot and find neutral with my foot. Just as I go to let go of the clutch, I happened to look at my instrument panel - no illuminated green "N" indicator lamp. Damn - good thing I didn't let go of the clutch. (But man, it sure felt like I'd hit neutral!) I eased things down into first, then nudged back up into neutral...and still no green indicator lamp. Odd...I wonder if the light just blew out? Oh well, I'll worry about that later, too much to do this morning. I shut down and headed in to take care of the mail business.

Coming back out, I fired things up, shot a glance at the instruments - still no green light. Oh well, off to the bank. Pulling in, shutting down, I found neutral (still no green light) and killed the bike. Inside to take care of the money business and back out to the bike. Fired her up, rolled out and passed a cop on the side of the road. Ok, no worries, I'm not speeding, right? A quick glance to my speedometer....uh-oh...that's when it hit me that not only did I apparently not have my neutral indicator lamp, but I didn't have any insturmentation at all. Damn. Well, here's hoping it's just a blown fuse. I'll be home in a few and can check it out.

Back at the house, Zig arrived and we pulled out the manual, as well as accessed the fuse panel. Sure enough; a blown fuse. Sweet! That's an easy enough fix! We grabbed a spare fuse, popped it in, and hit the ignition. Bam. Blew the fuse. Crapola! Well, I don't have time to mess with this thing now, I'll have to give it a whirl tomorrow.

(Here's what a dead instrument panel looks like when you're flying down the road in the middle of a run. Granted, I was able to tell what time it was, but nothing else.)

And this brings us to "Tomorrow". I pulled out the service manual again, studied the wiring diagrams for a while, then set to opening the fairing up to see what I could find.

Nice - this doesn't look simple on any level...

I stood there for a second, hoping the bad wire would stand up and wave to me, saying "Hi Dave, here I am!", but the reclusive bastard opted to remain hidden, instead. Ok, well the first thing to try is to yank all the connections and put a new fuse in. Then start connecting things again and see which one blows the fuse. That'll tell me what line/harness to start investigating.

As I began to unplug things, I found myself slightly stymied by some of the bracing in the way. I contemplated pulling some bolts, and that's when I realized the brace (an anti-vibration brace) was broken.
Hmmmm, well that changes everthing! Because if the brace is broken, then that means things are bouncing and rubbing up against things they shouldn't be! And, in looking a little further, I found the same brace, on the other side, was also broken! Now we're getting somewhere!

So, placing a hand on the inner fairing and working it foward and backward, I looked for wires that were coming in contact with metal of any kind. Sure enough, I found one! Ha, I was excited as all hell as I reached in and lifted it up to my eyes...damn. Definitely has signs of wear, but it hadn't worn through. Ok, keep looking. Ok, nothing more on this side, lets try the other side. Bammo - there it is. Holding up the wire, I could see a glint of copper poking out and winking at me. (It's tough to make out in this pic, but it's just above the electrical tape.)
I wrapped it in electrical tape and positioned it in a way that it would be well away from any metal. Then, fingers crossed, I hit the ignition. Damn! Still dead! That means there's another...wait...what are the odds of there being two shorts happening at precisely the same time (ok, it's a possibility, but not one I wanted to entertain). And then it hit me; Hey Dumbass, you never replaced the last blown fuse! A quick visit to the spare fuse collection, and voila. Ok, try the ignition again. Success!! Whooo-Hoo!! Ok, let's start getting things back together.

It was during this process that I noticed the other braces (the horizontal ones, just under the speakers) were also broken...

Damn. Well, I'll replace the two small, horizontal ones, but I'm going to look into rigging something up to remedy the other, vertical ones (I'd thought about making a tab that I could bolt the two broken pieces together with, but Steve K. says he Mig'd his and it worked fine so I may take him up on his offer to Mig mine for me).

Once the fairing was all bolted back into place, I thought hey, maybe it'd be cool to run without a windshield...Nah, not so much. Besides, Snoopy doesn't look very comfortable sitting up there all alone with nothing guarding his back. Ok, windshield goes back on.

And there you have it; a successful "short" story. (And a word of caution to you guys out there with fairings - it might be worth it to open 'em up and check your braces.)

Ride Hard, Take Chances

5th Annual Lance Crprl Shayne Cabino Memorial Run

I was out my door @ 7am...but I didn't make it far. The back shed was my destination, to pull out the lawn mower and whack down the hayfield that my back yard had become. There was a plan to have folks over after today's run so I wanted to pretty things up a bit.

The morning had dawned cold - I could see my breath almost the entire time I was pushing that mower through the tall green strands. The sky above me was quite cloudy as well. I tried not to be surprised that the weather folks were wrong yet again (they'd called for clear skies, hot and sunny today).

An hour and a half later, I was back inside, showered up and mounting my flags onto the bike. One by one, the other riders showed up and set their stands in the driveway. Our deadline for pulling out was 10am and miraculously, we did just that. It was 9:59 as our procession slid out to the streets and headed to the Legion.

Pulling in, we were one of the first to arrive, but that was by design. As regular attendees, we'd been asked to ride point position, and an early arrival was needed to ensure we were able to line up at the front. But this also gave us about 3 hours to kill before the run actually started. Not a problem, we knew many of the folks doing the behind-the-scenes work (registration, t-shirt sales...beer sales) and we mingled about, helping where we could.

The lot was filling up quickly and things were looking good. The sun had made a brief appearance earlier but had retreated again behind some pathy cloudwork. This was to be the pattern for the rest of the day. Hey, it beats rain, though, right?

As things were getting close to departure-time, I realized I should probably get a pic of the parking lot, so here ya go;
We'd been hoping for a turnout of 400 bikes, but final tally came in slightly under 300 I believe. I heard we did manage to raise $10,500, though, so that's frikkin' awesome.

Something else that was awesome; this year they had a huge ensemble of horns to play Amazing Grace as our send off;
Just after I snapped that pic, I turned to see Ed's mother giving me her best "I'm keeping an eye on you!" look. (She's one of the behind-the-scenes people, handling registration.) Having my camera already in my hand, I had to snap a pic. So here you go; Thirsty's Mom! (She's in the red.) Amazing how she went right into a "I'm as innocent as an angel" look as soon as she saw the camera.
Moments later, the bikes were fired and we were rolling. It was cool as hell to be at the front of the column - a column which ran for over two miles long. We'd been rolling for quite a ways when Danno (riding next to me) shouted over that he'd just gotten a text that the last bike (Matty) had just pulled out. Sweet!!
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The run was handled with precision this year, and we had 7 motorcycle cops leading the way and blocking. More than once, they'd come roaring up the left side, lights blinking, sirens wailing, and assume their position in front of us again. It was like watching a fighter squadron and it was awesome.
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As with any other run, most of the folks stuck in traffic as we rolled by, 'got' it and waved or clapped or gave us the thumbs-up. And there were the handful that don't 'get' it. I even saw one guy flip us off. Sorry buddy, have a nice day (and enjoy the show).
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About 2 hours later, we pulled back into the Legion parking lot to the sounds of dozens of people gathered on either side of the entrance, clapping and cheering. Setting our stands, some made their way to the bathrooms, some made their way to the food line, and the rest of us milled about helping folks get settled back in safely. When all were accounted for, it was time to party!
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There was more food there than we knew what to do with, but we gave it our all. The beer was flowing as fast as thirsty hands could scoop up the cups, and all around, there was camaraderie and brotherhood. It was a great afternoon. (I even managed to come away with a couple bottles of top-shelf vodka in the raffles!)
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As the afternoon wore on and the crowd began to thin, we made our way back to the household for a fire and more merriment. We had more food there (mostly of the 'munchy' variety, but it helped tempter the additional road sodas we were ingesting. We talked of the day, about things we liked, things we didn't, and things we thought could be improved upon. Another fine ending to another fine day.
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So in closing, I would again like to thank the Cabino family, as well as all those that help put this together each year. It's an awesome way to remember someone that gave the greatest gift of all, not to mention all the families that are helped by the proceeds that this event brings in.

And thank you to Shayne. We ride in your memory, and in your honor.

http://www.shaynesrun.com/

The 2010 Maine Extravaganza

I’m still behind on things. It’s been over a week since I got back from the Maine extravaganza and I still haven’t gotten everything up here. Even more pressing, we’ve got the Shayne run tomorrow, and of course there’ll be a write-up for that, so I need to get the Maine thing taken care of to keep things in chronological order. That said, here comes a flurry of stuff…
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When we last left our zero…er…hero, he was standing in King’s garage, soaked to the skin, and remembering that his dry clothing was on his bike, some 50+ miles to the west. How did he come to find himself in such a predicament? Let’s tune in and find out…
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It was 5:15am on the previous Monday morning. I was geared up, gassed up, and ready to roll. Hitting the highways on a cool, quiet morning in Maine with nothing ahead of me but miles and miles of open roadways…a clear sky above me…good solid tunes blasting out of the speakers…things were good in the universe.
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The only down side was that I’d been hearing a noise coming from (what I believed to be) the front end for a couple of weeks. It hadn’t been very loud – certainly nothing that my radio couldn’t drown out (hey, if you can’t hear the problem, you ain’t got no problem!). At any rate, as the day progressed, the noise got louder and louder, to the point where I was wondering if I would make it to Olean. I tried leaning to one side, then the other, to see if I could discern exactly where the sound was coming from. It sure did sound like it was coming from the front wheel assembly. I clutched in to disengage the engine, to see what effect that had on the noise. No change, even as the RPM’s dropped. Ok, so it’s not the engine, that’s good. The only thing I could come up with was that my front wheel bearing was on its way out. Ok – not a disaster in its own way, but still something with potentially bad possibilities. If the thing went slowly, I’d be lucky and have time to make it to the side of the road. If it decided to weld itself together, I’d probably do a Superman impression as the bike locked up and I went soaring over the windshield. Hmmm…what to do, what to do. I finally settled on a ‘go faster, get there sooner’ plan, and I was soon hovering around 90 for most of the day.
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Fast forward to 5pm that afternoon (a short 12 hours later), I was pulling into King’s driveway. And who was there, packing his bike, than none other than the man himself! After greeting each other, we went into the house where I was handed a much-needed road soda which I promptly put out of its misery. A bit later, we made it down to the V to say hello to more of the crew and share some road stories. It was during this visit that I found something must have happened to my money on the way out…for it was no good at the V. Time and again, I tried to use it, but it was worthless and no one would accept it. Beers and shots were taken care of for the entire night. Sweet! (On the following nights, however, not only did I find that my money was good once again, it was now encouraged…especially when playing cards!) It wound up being an early night, as King had to work in the morning, but that was ok – it’d been a long day and some sleep wouldn’t be a bad idea.
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The following morning, I met up with Jerry and Mark, and we all headed off to the Jamestown dealership (52 miles away, remember?), for them to give my bike the once-over. Fortunately, with it being a weekday, there was no line when we got there, and I was rolled right in. (I loved this dealership, but I’ll get to that later.)
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They’d had my bike for about 45 minutes when they came out to inform me that the problem was not the front wheel bearing (nor was it a blown fork seal – which was the other possibility that had been tossed around). Turns out the problem was inside my primary – I forget which bearing it was they said, but a bearing was loose and they needed to open the primary to check things out. I asked their opinion of me leaving things as they were and making it back home to the Boston area. The tech’s eyes kinda got big and he shook his head, saying no way, not a good idea at all. If things decided to disintegrate, I’d be in serious trouble, especially if going top speed on the highway. Ok then; have at it. Mark, Jerry and I went out to grab some lunch. Upon our return, I was informed that not only had they found problems with the shafts, seals and bearings inside the primary, but the drive shaft coming out of the tranny was also skewed, and that they needed to open up the whole transmission. Fantastic! And me, with my warranty having just ran out in April! Sweet! I really had no choice, so I gave them the go-ahead, donned my helmet, and hopped aboard the back of Jerry’s trike.

We spent the rest of that day blasting around on some of the fantastic mountain roads out there, but I tell ya; it just ain’t the same on the back of a bike(trike). I needed the controls, Man!! (Jerry, in all his awesomeness, even offered to let me do the driving for a while, while he took the back seat. Thanks, but no way, Brother. I’m not going to put another guy onto the back of his own bike.)

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I called the dealership just before they closed for the day, to see how things were going. They said they’d ID’d the problem; all kinds of loose seals, missing bearings, metal fragments in the tranny, etc. Basically; a mess. They said I probably had only a few more miles on it before things really started to get ugly. At this point, I’m picturing my transmission grenading on me while I’d been going 90 on the way out (I thought of various scenarios, but they all had the same result). The good news was they knew everything that needed to be done to get me rolling again. The bad news was they’d had to ship in some of the parts from another state. With any luck, I might have my bike back by the end of Thursday. Whoa, what? “Maybe”? “By the end of Thursday?” Uhm…we’re rolling out, first thing Friday morning, any chance we can take that “maybe” and turn it into a “you’ll have it” by the end of Thursday? He said yes, most likely. Even further, he said he’d talk with Harley and see what he could do for me in terms of the costs. Sweet! Well let me know how you make out. And with that, I was wheel-less.

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The next two days consisted of riding around on the backs of some bikes, as well as having the honor of using the King’s own personal transportation. But that brings me to another point I want to make; not only did Mark offer me his bike to use, King offered me either his bike or his Jeep. Well, just like I’m not going to put someone on the back of their own bike/trike, I’m not going to take a bike away from someone when the weather is beautiful, warm and sunny, so I went with the Jeep. But that's the kind of guys these folks are - I'm in from out of town, my bike is down, and I've now had THREE guys offer me their bikes/trike. That's what makes these guys Brothers, man !

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Ok, back to the story. There were the obligatory visits to the V each night, along with some mischievousness (of course). One night, after Mary was about to close the place, we realized we had too much money left on the bar. Well, we couldn’t make change (register had been cashed out), and we needed to leave a good tip. Luckily, Mary came to the rescue; drink more shots to use up the extra money! Yeah!! The person coming on in the morning could make the adjustments to the register, so with that, our troubles were over. The following night, we thought the place needed a little spicing up at closing time…so we upended all the chairs.

At which point, we learned that Bub would probably use his personal phrase “WHAT THE F*CKING C*CK!?!?!” when he showed up the next morning.
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I think this was the evening that we wound up going back to Mark and Mary’s house for more beers , pizza and wings. The following morning, Mark took us out for breakfast to this out-of-the-way place, but the food was really good, so it was chalked up to a good morning.
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Oh yeah, another tangent; my rear tire had been getting rather long in the tooth, even to the point where the HD tech had asked me if I was aware I needed a new tire. I’d said yes, but to just leave the old one on there. I’d gotten 20,353 miles out of the last one, I’d be damned if I was going to get only 17k out of this one!! But King talked me into a course of wisdom over bravado, so I’d called the dealership back and told them to go ahead and put a new rear tire on. Dammit. 20,353 miles on the last one!! And only 17k on this one? *Sigh* I must be getting fatter…
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Anyway, I eventually found myself back at the dealership on Thursday afternoon, waiting for my bike. I was assured that it was back together and was ready to roll. Sure enough, we saw it come riding out from the service area, being taken on it’s test drive. About 15 mins later, it returned and disappeared into the wash bay. And that was when I heard the dreaded words; “Dave, I have your paperwork here.” (Ruh-roh…here comes the bad news…) But the news wasn’t bad, it was frikkin’ awesome. The dealership had comp’d me almost $450 worth of parts and labor! Leaving me holding the bag for a mere $250!!! Beers are on me tonight, fellas! Oh yeah, another thing I loved about this place; when I first dropped my bike off, their first question wasn’t; “Did you buy the bike here?”. Dammit, I hate that question – it has no bearing whatsoever on anything, but you go to any dealership around here, and that’s what you’ll get. Not these guys, though, they were truly only interested in helping me out. I’m tellin ya; if the time comes for me to buy another new bike, I will seriously consider making the ride out there to give them the business! Jamestown Harley – if you’re ever in their area, look ‘em up!
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That evening was whiled away in similar fashion; at the V, then returning to King’s for the last good night’s sleep we’d get on this trip.
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The next morning, we were up and on the road in short order, and things were looking good. Even the usual blanket of morning fog was thin and unintimidating. We met the rest of the travelers at the Cuba exit, exchanged hugs and handshakes, and we were off.
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The day was rather uneventful..if you consider spectacular scenery, light traffic, no breakdowns, and cold beer waiting at the end to be uneventful! :-D We crashed in Brattleboro for the night and stayed up too late screwing each other (relax, it’s a card game).
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The next morning brought us good news; we’d been keeping an eye on a hurricane that was coming up the East coast, wary of its potential impact on our camping weekend. But the forecasts told us that it had passed through Maine relatively lightly and was in the process of clearing out; we should be dry and under a clear sky by the time we roll into town. And sure enough; by the time we arrived in South Thomaston, the skies were blue and welcoming, the wet roads were dry, and our spirits were high.
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The bikes had become separated from the chase vehicles on the highway, but not a problem – we caught up with them at the Keag store, no more than a few miles from our destination. We pulled in, cracked a beer and turned around to see our Mass contingent pulling in behind us. So there we were; everyone that was showing up that night, all in one place and at the same time. Man, I love when a plan comes together! We killed our beers and roared off to the clearing.
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That night, we feasted on an Italian spread, courtesy of Rob and Tina, Dave and Karmen. And what a feast! The beer flowed, the food disappeared, and we laughed the evening away. Sunday was more of the same, but with a lobster feast this time around. For those that don’t eat the sea spiders, there were tips, ribs, pulled pork, burgers, dogs, side dishes, etc., etc., etc. I’m tellin’ ya; I was surprised any of us were able to move after that.
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Around dusk, a small fire was lit and the stage was opened to anyone that wished to share a story or poem with their fellow revelers. Following this, The Toast was performed for all new attendees (we had a good showing of newbies this year – always promising for the future!), with the activities finally being adjourned to more storytelling and laughter.
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It was another successful year all around. Great times, great roads, great people. I always look forward to this trip with such anticipation, but when it’s over, it brings a bit of melancholy because it also signals the winding-down of the summer months. But not to worry, there are many things still to come.
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That wraps up the written portion of the trip – now for more pics and side stories!
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Remember I said I'd finally stopped and said hello to an old friend that I've only waved to for 20 years? Here he is. And what I mean is that for as long as I can remember, a few of us have always waved to this guy on our way to (and on our way back out from) South Thomaston. How can you not wave to this guy? He's always so happy, and always waving to us. Seems like waving back is the least we can do.It was cool to finally get an up-close look at him, too. Whoever crafted him, sure put a lot of time and detail into it. All steel, and obviously well maintained. The salt air + the harsh winters can't be doing anything for his complexion, and yet he still looks pretty good for his age.
Upon arriving into town a bit early, I did some exploring down roads I hadn't ridden before. Rounding a corner, I was shocked to stumble upon an epic battle underway!!

The foes were locked in mortal combat..."Good" on one side...

"Evil" on the other... (Nevermind why the dragon is almost always the evil one, just go with it.)

Fearlessly, the creatures measured each other up, waiting for a weakness to present itself...

The tension was reaching a crescendo....

I couldn't take the carnage - I had to split for calmer surroundings.

Back out in Olean, I found a number of sculptures scattered here and there. Many towns do this, where they'll pick a mascot of sorts, create a bunch of sculptures, and then local artists will turn them into mini masterpieces. Here are 4 that I liked;

"Nutty O St. Nick"
Ronald McSquirrel
Sir Pennywise

Lady Justice

On our ride from Olean to Maine, we bumped into a family that were transporting a couple of baby "Mini" horses. (We actually bumped into these folks twice - I managed to get a pic the second time...not sure what happened with the exposure, though.) The baby mini's were small enough that they were able to ride in the back of a covered pickup truck. Plenty of room back there, and since the family was obviously stopping fairly often (as were we), they were getting plenty of chances to stretch, too.
The view from Hogback Mountain was 'decent' this time - not spectacular, but not clouded in, either.

Strolling through the gift shop, I saw this shirt and thought it was pretty funny.
And in closing, here the hungry travelers are gathered for a roadside feast. The NY crew had splurged and stocked up on food galore. Which reminds me; my money must have been bad again, because they didn't want any of it. Generous folks, they are!

And there you have it; the 2010 Maine Extravaganza.

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Ride Hard, Take Chances!!

Chalk, Water Fights and Dry Jeans

Another quick post today, gotta get little snippets up when I can. And, since I just ran a meeting through my lunchtime, I think I deserve a few minutes of downtime, so here ya go.


Out at King and Pat's house, their granddaughter Alyssa was staying with them for a few days. She and I get along pretty well because we have the same mental development level. (Actually, she's the smarter of the two of us.) Anyway, she surprised me by drawing my portrait in chalk. Which I thought was pretty cool.

Not only did she get it right, with the beard and the HD shirt, but she also put flames all behind me. Maybe a Rembrandt in the making?

At some point after this, she and I had our annual water balloon fight. That was all well and good (I kicked her butt), but I'd forgotten about the super-soaker portion of the battle. That's the part where we start with loaded water cannons and try to soak each other. The important part (which I had also forgotten), was that we use the same bucket to refill the water cannons. And this places us only about a foot apart from each other. So you can guess what happens; we stand there like motards, filling our cannons and blasting them into each other's head, repeatedly. It's an ugly scene (there are no winners in water cannon warfare).

After a thorough soaking on both parts, we retired the cannons until next year. Alyssa went into the house to dry off and change, while I went to King's garage to retrieve my own set of dry jeans from my duffel bag.

It was at this point that I realized my duffel bag - and all my clothes - were still on my bike...in Jamestown...52 miles to the west.

Why was my bike in Jamestown, 52 miles to the west? Stay tuned...

What a Town!

Sorry folks, I know I've been remiss on the posting, but it's Budget season here at work and I'm slammed. But you have been very patient...well...most of you have been patient, some of you are pushy bastards! But that's ok, makes me feel loved. Or something sappy like that. So with that in mind, here's a quick anectdote from this year's Labor Day Trip for you.

Where else but in Olean can:
Two guys go to a bar...
The two guys meet a bartender...
The bartender buys the guys drinks...
At the end of the night, the bartender bring the guys home...
The bartender gives the guys more drinks...and even feeds them...
The two guys sleep over...

...And in the morning, the bartender's husband takes the two guys out for breakfast! What a town!

(In the interest of full disclosure, we've been friends with Mark and Mary for years and years, but it makes for a funny story if told with a bit of a spin on it.)

Thanks for all your hospitality, guys!

Quick Bits

Too busy trying to catch up here at work to get into the full spectrum of this year's Labor Day event, but I will get things posted as I'm able. For now, here's a few quick notes of some of the fun I had...

I swam in a quarry.
I befriended a Frenchman who spoke little English, but who wrote a biker comic story and is going to send me a copy (hopefully this version will be in English).
I lit up a glass tree.
I mowed a lawn.
I took some trees down.
I left some trees alone.
I won at bar Yahtzee...ok, not really.
I saved kids' feet from broken glass.
I trashed my own bare feet on a long rocky road.
I finally stopped to say hello to an old friend that I've only waved to, in passing, for almost 20 years.
I helped redecorate the seating arrangements in a bar.
I learned a new phrase "WHAT THE F***ING C*CK!!"
I saw a stone snake basking in the sun.
I exchanged jokes with old time bikers I'd never met before, over a crackling fire.
I had my image drawn in chalk.
I saw the god Neptune astride his Harley, escaping with his Mermaid lover.
I quaffed a beer in solitude and contemplated the moon and nighttime sky.
I found that, amongst the right friends, I can listen to music I don't like and find it's not so bad after all.
I stayed up too late, for no good reason, and with no one to talk to, all while knowing that the open road would be calling all too soon in the morning.
I slept under trees.
I sat atop a live grenade for 12 straight hours.
I enjoyed the sights and scents of wildflowers, at 85 miles an hour.
I read a book by firelight, next to my bike.
I did a stopover in Cuba but Castro was no where to be found.
I was given a knife-eating dragon.
I passed a moving fleet of snowplows in 90-degree heat.
I hunted crystals in the woods.
I intruded on some bees who let me off with just a warning.
I held court with a King.
I got shot by a sherriff.
I hid from the sun and chased the moon.
I had Fish Heads inserted into my brain.
I rode west across the back of a hog, and did not stop.
I rode east across the back of a hog, and did stop.
I rode on the backs of several of my friend's hogs.
I retrieved lobsters from the sand.
I chatted with a rooster who was certain that sunrise was at 2am.
I shot squirrels (with my camera).
I recited my poem.
I said hello to dear friends who have passed.

I wish I were doing it all over again, tomorrow.

Ride Hard, Take Chances