Usually I just drive, work at the store, then come back. This time I didn't have a tight time frame and one of my house mates (Thom) was trailering his bike, so we put Rosie on the trailer too and went together. After hitting a bad pothole in Philly, we had a blow out on the trailer in Maryland. It was Thom unloading his bike that caught the state patrol's attention. He let us know there was nothing to be found at that hour (about 8 pm), got us off onto a side road where we could spend the night in the van, and gave us a couple numbers for road service in the morning. Thom is a severe asthmatic and woke me about 7 the next morning asking me to call 911 because he couldn't breathe! The ambulance picked him up and I waited for road service. The only tire they had to fit the trailer was a used one ($10) which was at least enough to get me moving so I could get over to the hospital. We were there for three days! Chestertown MD is a quaint little riverside village and I walked around taking photographs in between keeping Thom company. We found a GoodYear store when we went to fill his scripts, put new tires on the trailer, and were on our way again. Working at the store, for me, is more interesting than "attending" Bike Week. I get to meet all kinds of people, from all over the world. Traffic is so heavy during the event that I don't mind staying put. Rosie managed to get her picture in the paper while sitting in front of the store. Afterwards, we camped at Three Flags over in Wildwood for a couple weeks so we could spend time riding. We racked up about 1000 miles between exploring and visiting relatives. Sometimes we'd just go out and get "lost", ending up on what Thom refers to as "horse trails" in the state parks. I don't mind riding dirt roads, but Thom needs to take the precaution of covering his face so he doesn't breathe the dust. The ride back to New York was a bit rainy, so we took it slow. Visiting with friends in South Carolina and family in Maryland along the way provided welcome stops. It was good.
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I need to tweak a moment before I write about the trip to Daytona. I just got back Saturday night, as the Tamarack (refer to my New Years Day ride) was burning.
Anyway. I called my son while I was in town yesterday, sitting in the parking lot on the phone, as a Dyna pulls in. I'm just kind of checking it out from my car while I'm talking ... then a pick up truck parks behind me. The guy from the truck walks over to the Dyna, turns on the switch and cranks up the bike! He then proceeded to cut off the engine, turn off the switch and walk into the store. Had he straddled the bike I would have been on 911 in a heartbeat! Maybe, just maybe, he recognized the bike and knew the owner ... but I doubt it. Where do people get the idea they can just start, sit on, and otherwise touch somebody's machine? A couple years ago a friend of mine caught a kid, midair, trying to jump his bike with a skateboard! Yikes!!! |
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I've been riding now for over 40 years, beginning in the dirt on a Honda SL-70 when I was 12. I always leaned more toward trials riding than racing, but also loved riding the tracks (flat track and motocross) with the guys I came up with when they'd practice (on a Honda Elsinore 125). Our motto then was "If you don't go down you're not riding hard enough!" ... not finding your limits. Archives
February 2018
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