Girlie Motorcycle Blog

I popped out of bed on Saturday to a sunny, 60 degree morning. Well, I shouldn’t say popped. It was something more akin to a zombie-like drag over the edge of the bed. For some reason I was feeling exceptionally sleepy. But… Time waits for no man and all that. Free, usable (read: rideable) hours are hard to come by and I can either sit around moaning about being tired or I can muscle my way off this sandbar and bask in the natural beauty of things like the Gunks. Shawangunk Mountains

On my way back home, I stopped at one of the overlooks on 44/55 near Minnewaska State Park to grab a quick pic of the valley. A lovely, older gentleman stopped to tell me about his 919. I find it sad when strangers tell me that they feel too old to ride anymore or travel far or whatever. Being or I should say, feeling old sucks!

I stitched some pics together to create a panorama. Click to englarge

Being grown up, isn’t half as fun as growing up,
These are the best days of our lives…
-The Ataris

Friday morning I rolled out of the driveway and into the morning at 5:30 heading for points… away. I wasn’t armed with much of a plan other than to just get off this island before the morning rush clogged my escape routes across the bridges.

As i meandered up Route 97, i pulled off at the Roebling’s Delaware Aqueduct. A spot i’ve passed many times but never snapped a photo of. I thumbed my nose at the man, living dangerously and parked in the no parking zone. Take That! Ha!

A quick stop in Callicoon, NY and I’m off again heading north.

Hamden, NY
I pulled off to take a quick peek at the Hamden Covered Bridge off of Route 10 near the northwest edge of the Catskills. It felt really good to get some elbowroom. There was one rain cloud that seemed like it was following me. Kind of like it was a big balloon on a string that was tied to my seat and I just dragged it along where ever I went. It cut loose right about here and floated off to to that corner of the universe where the sky keeps lost balloons.

I just continued poking along, turning here or there willy-nilly. I pulled off next to this old neon tube Motel sign for a closer look at it and to rest my noggin. I get this hot spot on my forehead in every helmet i’ve ever owned. I must have a lumpy head. Add that to the snaggle teeth, crooked ears and ever-maniacal hair and i’m quite the catch, huh?

I bet that sign has a lot of stories to tell.

I woke up to overcast skies. My motorcycle sat alone in the hotel parking lot near Killington, Vermont. Its a familiar lot that is so often filled with the smiles, bikes and happy faces of my riding friends. Today it was me all alone. I was going to go ride the Mount Washington Auto Road. That would be one more tick off of my life’s To-Do List.

I turned on the Ipod and shoved off at about 6:30 am.

Vermont seems to be a rolling succession of picturesque little towns and villages that proudly line their main street with American flags on every telephone pole. It really harkens to a seemingly long forgotten piece of innocent America.

Between these small towns is a weathered yet charming string of farms and rural homesteads. I quietly wonder how people are so lucky to have the strength to choose a life that appears to be so much less cluttered on the surface. I don’t want to know the reality of what their lives are like, i want my dream.

Meandering east, I cross into New Hampshire.

Sometimes you know you’re walking this world on your own, don’t you?

According to Roadside America, Warren, NH is the only town that apparently has a Redstone Rocket on display. Goshalmighty, if that isn’t reason enough to stop for visit, I don’t know what is!

Fog on the Kanc.
I set the ole self-timer on the camera and also took a pic of myself standing there. But being the buffoon I am, I somehow managed to capture myself doing what appears to be ‘The Robot’ in my raingear. Perhaps if I’m feeling masochistic later I will post it up.

Here it is. My moment of glory!

This is as far as I made it up the Auto Road.

The very nice lady at the tollbooth sheepishly walked over and said, ‘I’m sorry, honey. We’re closed to bikers today.’ It took about 20 seconds for what she was saying to register in my brain. Apparently after Laconia Bike Week, the dirt road had become degraded and unsafe to bikes and was being repaired.

So… I visited Mount Washington from across the street over a turkey sandwich. Typical.

There it is, up in the clouds. So close, yet so far.

I called Kenny and gave him the lowdown on my aborted summit attempt. He kind of chuckled and said, ‘Of Course.’ As i stood there looking at the mountain, the weather began to roll and tumble.

Maximus: ‘At my signal, unleash hell!’
And it did. The rain dogged me all day from this point on. This was the last pic I took trying to escape the onslaught.

There were so many spots I rolled past and said, ‘I’ll snap a pic on the way back.’ It proved to be foolish on my part. The thunder and lightning kept me moving. Lesson learned…maybe.

Moments in time are fleeting. Stop and smell the roses.

…a little rain must fall.

The steam rolled along the blacktop, slicking up the already treacherous tar-snakes of Mass. Route 23.

Thursday afternoon I packed up my tankbag and headed north to Vermont. I seemed to be chasing the tail of the rain and was thankful I hadn’t caught up to it yet.

Of course, when I go thinking… that’s when things all end up going south. This was pretty much the last I saw of the sun for the next 24 hours.

…to be continued.