For all my time riding and living in New England (MA & NH) I have never gone to "bike week" until this year! For whatever reason, schedule, desire, whatever I have just never gone... so here's my story...
Sat am I wake up at 4:00am,
well before my normal 7:00am, maybe it's the weather, maybe it's the fact that I fell asleep with out my CPAP mask on, who knows but I'm up and so is the bride...
I don't have to meet up with the rest of the guys till 9:00 and its a 15 min ride to get to the meeting place so I tinker about the house, vac the pool, polish the bike, so on...
8:35 rolls around , I hate to be late, so I ride to the meeting spot...I don my chaps, dragin jeans denim jacket and pants, helmet, boots, fingerless gloves, goggles and go...
I arrive before everyone else secure a very visible parking spot, and park the ride to wait...
While riding I'm very comfortable the am air is crisp but far from cold, once parked however the sun starts it work and the chaps are the first to go...
The others arrive and I get the standard "Q"'s and comments by those whom I have not ridden with, about my bike...my favorite comment was "wow and
old chain drive Triumph, nice job on it, what year is it? After the typical "Q & A" session we discuss eating or leaving and decide to ride on, I get suited back up (sans chaps) we all comment on how were all wearing bean buckets even though we don’t have to, some sun screen is passed around (I mistakenly pass on it) and were off…
We take 102 to 107 (the same trip route planed for the NH rally) and it’s a beautiful ride…Mother nature has turned parts of 107 into a wash board
but it is otherwise gorgeous, we arrive in the lakes region and start to run into more bikers, rather than dig out the map we decide to “follow the crowd†and soon find ourselves nearing “The Wiers†(Mecca for the bike week crowd) as we draw near the traffic starts to thicken, and soon we’re in it solid!
We ride up a steep grade two by two while sitting in the sun; the routine for the next 45 min is as follows…
Clutch, shift to first ride, 5-10 feet stop, shift to neutral, wait…repeat.
At one point I decide that, although the denim jacket (black) was fine while riding, sitting on top of a hot bike in the late AM (11:00 ish) sun it is NOT. Once off this steep hill, which was a thrill with a million hill starts and stops, I find a flat level surface drop the side stand remove the denim open my Triumph saddlebags, remove my gear, dig out a bungee cord, fold up the jacket, and bungee it to the back rest for the passenger. Replace all gear, close bags, sit on bike, and wait. Clutch, shift, ride, clutch, shift, wait, repeat…
All along sucking fumes from those who obviously have NO idea how RICH they are running
…during the 45 min traffic jam that is now my life I take note of a bunch of “locals†who have removed the contents of their living rooms to “set†by the road in comfort and watch the slowly inching parade…at one point I’m in the same spot long enough to see the idea hit them, then the trip to the house, then the return trip to the street with various pieces of furniture (couch, chair, love seat, AND coffee table) set up collect their cooler and return to sit. All along I hear the sound of revving motors, straight pipes and no forward progress. It occurs to me that in the blazing sun on a hot, while riding an AIR cooled bike, on hot pavement, surrounded by hundreds of bikes, that I might want to order an oil temp gauge from Brent soon!
Then it occurs to me that the pinheads who are revving their air cooled motors to hear the “cool†sound of their straight pipes, while going nowhere are doing their motors more harm then good, and I secretly wish to hear the un-mistakable sound of catastrophic engine failure!
As we draw nearer the Wiers the locals have decided that this week will pay their mortgages for the rest of the year, and they fill their yards with bikes for $10-$20 each
to park, one in our group has had enough and bails at a $10.00 parking spot, while we ride on, figuring that this is the last we’ll see of Kenny today.
The remaining 4 bikes continue on to the Wiers and remarkably find 4 spaces together,
park, disrobe of no essentials and proceed.
We have ARRIVED and it is good!
The place is a F-IN ZOO, I am greeted upon my arrival with the site of a VERY attractive young lady wearing a lace thong and chaps with a matching see thru lace top…AHHH…so THIS is why the fuss every year
…there are a gazillion Harleys (and Harley look alikes) and many sport bikes…the sport bikes all seem to have a very attractive young lady wearing a skimpy bikini perched on the back and I start to wonder if it is some option available at the dealers or if one of these venders here is distributing them!
We make our way to the top of the hill (to hopefully re-connect with our 5th bike whom bailed earlier) and I suddenly feel like a giant sperm making my way up the fallopian tube that is the Wiers…and I’m obviously not the first to arrive, if you know what I mean!
You can’t move, getting near the vendors is hopeless,
and along with the thong/chap girl there are a plethora of others whom obviously failed to look in a mirror before they left for the day
… for every one attractive young nubile hotie (and there were quite a few) there are 100’s of overweight woman trying to imitate those who are younger and thinner…If you cant see your shoes BECAUSE of your belly…then MAYBE low rider shorty shorts and a Belly shirt should NOT be your fashion choice!!
I love to people watch and could have stayed there all day just watching the crowds go by…however the local constabulary has other thoughts in mind and if you’re stationary for more than 30 seconds one will magically appear and remind you to move along then disappear as quickly as they appeared…(they must have made a deal with Brent to borrow his shipping device)
Just a couple of quick notes on the local Constabulary I observed…
1. They must have had some line up and selected them ala Madeline Khan in Mel Brooks “History of the World Part 1†and SIZE was defiantly the deciding factor…except in this case they seamed more concerned with shoulder width and height. Not a single beer belly, donut eater in the group…these men were GIANTS.
2. They did a remarkable job at keeping the peace.
After several failed attempts to hook up with Ron (fishercat) and several hours of baking in the sun, sucking fumes, and ear shattering straight pipes,
we had had enough…and decided to leave…as we “swam†back “down stream†toward our rides I was given the rare opportunity to see a new use for those cute “dog paw print†stickers you see everywhere…you know the big dot with three little dots over the big dot…some woman with HUGE..ti…mell…boo….well lets just say she too would never see her shoes but it had nothing to do with her BELLY
…had decided to use two of these dog paw print stickers as her TOP and color coordinated them with her lace underwear and heels…
.having decided we now had seen it all, we rode out of the Weirs and headed for home…
I would have loved to have had the time to visit all the vendors but the crowd was so thick and the place was just littered with those who were “screaming†“look at me…aren’t I cool†that it really made it less enjoyable.
The bikes were way to numerous to even begin to count but I saw only one other Triumph in my travels and it was a much older Bonny, but I did see a couple that stood out in a sea of clones…someone had taken an old Harley RK or EG and removed the seat and replaced it with a western saddle complete with horn and stirrups (that looked cool) and there were several really nice custom paint jobs done on a variety of other makes as well…but again these were the exceptions not the rule…
Will I return next year…maybe but if I do it will be to a different area and maybe catch the races as Ron did…and I will NOT be returning on the last Sat of the week…
