Gave Zig the call on Friday night to see if he’d be around on Saturday and interested in putting some miles on with me. Naturally, it didn’t take a lot of convincing; “Tomorrow; sunny and mid 40’s - a good day to ride. You in?” “Hell yeah” came the response, and with that, the plan was in place.
I rolled the bike out at around 8:30 the next morning and the chill in the air was quite evident, given how plainly visible my breath was. I wasn‘t cold, though, I was frikkin’ psyched! We were going riding!!
Met up with Zig at his shop and we picked a direction; south. We’d shred 95 for a bit, then pick up 295 down through RI and then pick up Rte 6 and shove our way into CT.
We started out in the center lane, and traffic was light enough - whatever cars we came up on, pulled out of our way quickly - but still; we weren’t satisfied. It didn’t take us long to find ourselves in the high speed lane. I was on the outside, Zig was on the inside. I had the bellowing of both HD engines in my ears. It was like sitting on top of an airplane engine. It was loud, it was incessant - and it was beautiful. We were floating between 80 and 85 and it wasn’t enough. I just wanted to rip things wide open, pour more fuel into the beast, roar flames out of the pipes, and leave the blacktop shredded behind us.
Thankfully, better judgement held out for it wasn’t long before I saw Zig slide over to the middle lane and begin to drop back a bit. Checking the rear view; sure enough; one of the state’s finest was closing behind us. I joined Zig in the center lane and the cruiser passed on by without a second look in our direction.
We crossed into RI and picked up Rte 6 and headed west. The roadways were laden with sand, but the salt was still pleasantly absent. Things were looking good! We came upon a highway I hadn’t tried before (101) so we made a break for it. It turned out to be a nice road - two lane, running in basically a straight line, up and down some hills, tree lined, forests off to either sides for most of the way, etc.
About 10 miles into this side route, we came to a sign informing us that we’d reached the top of Jerimoth Hill, the highest point in RI. Elevation? A whopping 812 feet (everything is small in RI - I hadn’t even realized we'd been climbing anything.) Miraculously, our carbs managed to handle the thin oxygen levels found at such incredible altitudes, and we were soon passing safely back down the other side of the...hill.
A bit further along, we encountered a car coming in the other direction. The car was signaling a left turn and had come to a stop. We kept an eye on it to make sure it wasn’t going to turn in front of us. Satisfied that the diver was indeed going to wait for us, I’d just started to relax, when suddenly a second car came flying out from behind it, roaring directly into our lane. Apparently, that driver hadn’t been paying attention and hadn’t realized the car in front of him had stopped. So he went in the only direction that was clear for him…unfortunately, that put him directly into our path. Zig and I both jumped hard on the brakes, as the shithead in the cage cut hard back towards his lane. He was still doing at least 60 miles an hour when he screamed past me on the left, clearing us with a little room to spare. I got a good look at his face as he soared by; I’m sure the look of horror on his face was closely matched by the one on my own. But we came through the incident untouched, and very thankful to still be intact and rolling.
Once out stomachs had settled back down, we realized we were fairly hungry. We were also fairly cold, as the temps weren’t warming up as fast as we’d hoped. As luck would have it (apparently, we still had some left), there was a diner right in front of us and we rolled in - even finding a parking spot directly in front of the front door. Walking in, Zig asked for a coffee, I asked for a hot chocolate, opting to pass on the whipped cream. But I was informed that I had to have the whipped cream, as it was home made. Sure enough; it was the best whipped cream I’ve ever had. And the food was quite good, too. The service was super friendly, and they even had those old-time, authentic mini table-jukeboxes in each booth. Overall; a great eating experience. So if you ever find yourself near the intersection of 101 and 395, stop in to Zip’s Diner. And be sure to try the whipped cream.
Checking the maps, as well as our timeframes (Zig needed to get back before it got too late, as he had a game to ref, later that afternoon), we decided to continue on 101 for a while, pick up 198 north, back up into Mass, and then wind our way home.
As we pushed further westward, we soon came to the realization that they must not have received as much rain as we had, back home. The roadways were still quite salt-covered, and we agreed that we’d need to wash the bikes off, once we got back home.
Rolling up 198, we cross back into our home state, picked up Rte 20, east, and from there, rolled along to 140 and took that into our back yard. When we were a couple of towns away, I started to hear a clicking sound coming from Zig’s bike. We pulled over into a commercial driveway to check things out and found that one of the bolts on his rear drive-belt sprocket had sheared. The head of the bolt was trying to work its way out, but each time the wheel revolved past the chain guard, it got pushed back in a bit (this was the clicking sound).
Zig tugged the loose section of bolt out and we surveyed our surroundings. As luck would again have it, the driveway belonged to a motorcycle shop, and they were open. Zig borrowed the appropriate sized Allen wrench, snugged the remaining bolts nice and tight, and we were off again.
Hitting a few side roads, we made our way back to Zig’s shop, rode the bikes inside and pulled up at the washing station. A few minutes with some cleaners and the hose, and the bikes were nice and shiny again. Zig had some stuff to take care of at the shop, so we parted ways. I rumbled back to my house and returned the bike to the garage.
The weather pattern that was forecast for tonight /tomorrow is now calling for close to a foot of solid snow. Oh well - we enjoyed a nice breakfast, we found a new decent roadway, we managed to not get killed by one of the many idiot cagers out there…and - we managed to get some miles on!
I might just make it through this winter, after all.
Ride Hard, Take Chances
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