So imagine my delight when I pulled into the Post parking lot and saw 8 other bikes waiting. Apparenlty some lat minute word-spreading had dug up a number of folks who were not only free and availalble, but who also wanted to go show their support. Sweet, let's ride!
We blasted down onto 95, then picked up 93 into the heart of the city. At one point, we passed beneath a foot bridge which was lined with people all wearing red and white baseball jerseys, all with the number 8 on them. Walking through the middle of this gauntlet was a steady stream of young tikes and their parents. I would have loved to have had a picture of this, but hammering along the highway is no time to try digging out a phone. Only later on that evening did we find out what it was; a remembrance ceremony for Martin Richard, the 8 year old victim in the Marathon bombings. Ironically, #8 was also his jersey number. :-(
When we arrived at the registration point for the run, we handed over our $20, signed our lives away on the release forms, and then followed the attendants' directrions down a side street and finallly parked in a side ally. The main parking lot of the Harley Dealership (which was hosting the start of event) was already filled to overflowing. Before long, the alley we were in was soon packed, and they were sending bikes over to an adjacent mall parking lot.
We all dismounted and meandered around a bit. There weren't a lot of photo-worthy bikes there - and by that, I simply mean; custom bobbers. It appeared that close to 100% of the bikes were all stock. And that's ok, but that's why I didn't take any individual bike shots. I did, however, take a couple of these;
Those were just a small sampling of the sheer volume of bikes that were there. In the top pic, you can see there were some folks standing on top of the dealership building - I would have liked to have gotten up there for a pic, but oh well.
It seemed like "pets" were a big theme for the day. Here are a few examples;
That last one, of the parrot. Oddly enough, I had just recently seen an article on-line about this guy and his parrot. The bird sits on his shoulder and stays there as he rides. I think the fastest he's gone is something crazy like 70 miles an hour. How does a bird just sit there with that much wind going by? Who knows, but nonetheless, there he was, and he did the run with the group.
And speaking of the run - there were SO many bikes and so many apparent newbies, that we changed our plan. We'd discussed this option a bit earlier - so many bikes, how could this thing ever run smoothly? And only bolstering this decision was what happened at the starting gun. We were in a side alley - well removed from the huge, overflowing parking lot. Yet, when the bikes off in the distance started their engines, everyone around us did, too. Are you serious? You're not going to be moving for probably half an hour, and yet, you're starting your bike already? All around us, folks had their bikes running, their jackets zipped, their helmets on...and not moving. This indicated to us that many of these folks were new to the whole motorcycle run thing. We'd already known that with so many bikes, that for sure the procession would be a huge cluster-F, with stops, starts, and accordion-ing going on. Now seeing everyone around us displaying a lack of run knowledge- it just made up our minds for us. We, in our group, gave each other a knowing nod and when it finally came time for our line to move we slid off to the side and let the crowds pass us by, then found a quiet spot to park, and enjoyed a frosty beerverage from the local watering hole.
After enjoying the cold refreshing drink, we hopped onto the bikes and blasted a short distance down the road to the ending point (Suffolk Downs). Upon our arrival, we found we were hardly the only ones who had had the same plan. Among the 100+ bikes that were already lined up there, there was an impressive contingent of Outlaws...odd to see in this neighborhood, as traditionally, this is red and white territory.
After about an hour, an announcement was made that the bikes were about 15 minutes out. Wow - pretty impressive that things moved that quickly. (I had been going on the assumption that the run was 50 miles long, but I found out afterward that it was only about 25.) Realizing that the place would soon be overrun with hungry and thirsty bikers, we headed for the exits, pausing only long enough to hit the head on our way out.
And none too soon! As we were firing up the bikes, the folks that had been on the run arrived and begain flowing around us. Leaving the way we'd come in was out of the question - scouting the surroundings, we spotted a drainage route which offered a thin path through the curb and fencing along the back wall of the lot, and hit it just as our parking spot was being overrun. Whew - we were in the clear.
From there, we headed back to the Post for some self-congratulatory beers before heading off in our own directions. We'd survived the run...basically, by not doing it. But again, we'd paid our dues and that's what counted.
In closing, there was another silver-lining to having not done the run. After the parking lot cleared out, we spotted a Marine. A certain Marine which we hadn't noticed when the lot was full of bikes.
I present to you; SSgt Tim Chambers, otherwise known as The Saluting Marine. He's the marine who stands at attention for hours and hours, in full dress, in the blazing sun, during Rolling Thunder. I got a chance to shake his hand and chat with him a little bit, and told him we'd see him again in 4 weeks. That was a great highlight of the day for me!
And there you have it. Word on the street is the final bike count will come in between 3,000 and 4,000 (I'm not sure if they're including our small band of rebels that took the short route to the end or not). :-D
Ride Hard, Avoid The Newbies.
