I’d passed this house in Lee, Massachussets several times before on the Berkshire Dual Sport rides. Even though my friends know me well enough to realize that coming across such a place is like nirvana for me, we’d never stopped.
A few weekends ago while heading down towards the ferry home, since I was right around the corner, I stopped in for a peek.
After all these years I still haven’t figured out what the right protocol is for lurking around someones yard. You have to imagine that such a place attracts many lookers but even so, I approach anything that is a home with a wide berth. Then I go home wondering if I would’ve been allowed to go closer. ::shrug::
I suppose its better to err on the side of caution and not find myself being attacked by a junkyard dog or a slightly touched homeowner wondering what I’m doing on their property.
I can’t even begin to know what the red-eyed, menacing Santa with barrel legs is up to. I just know that if that dude showed up after midnight on my roof as a kid… nightmares.
I did a quick Google search to try to find out about this house but didn’t see anything. Any locals know the story?
[EDIT 9-11-12]
Thanks to super-sleuth Stephanie – an obituary for Rosemarie “Wonder Woman” Dupont was found. It seems she passed away in December 2009. The house and barn must be a tribute to her from her husband, who is a painter. Rest in peace, Rosey.
Sometimes you’re just riding along minding your own business and a 6ft beaver shows up. Happens all the time, right? I rolled up on this guy in Lee, Massachusetts.
“Is that a squirrel?” Kenny asked.
“No, it’s a beaver. It’s at Beaver Storage…. Maybe it’s a birrel?” I asked.
“It’s a squeaver,” Kenny deadpanned.
A squeaver, indeed.
The squeaver also looks like he’s got a too tight snowsuit on and can’t put his arms down. I think from here on in I will call him Randy.
The beave is actually on Roadside America. It sounds like he’s had a storied past but you know what? Big Beaver don’t give a dam! Okay, I’m leaving now…
On Friday, we packed up the Ridgeline with our bikes, the kid and the dog and headed north to Massachusetts for a weekend of friends, food and riding.
Our home away from home was a cute little cabin in the woods. As soon as the captain turned on the weekend sign, we settled in to “hang” mode. You know – a little barbequeing, going for a nice lazy walk around the lake, just sitting on the front porch and enjoying the fire. We got busy doing a whole lotta nothin’.
While a couple friends and their families trickled in to the campground on Friday, the rest of our motley crew came rolling in on Saturday.
We spent Saturday laughing, grilling, enjoying each others company and managed to make some new friends along the way, too. That is one of the best parts about these events. You’re surrounded by like-minded people so it is easy to meet new people.
On Sunday morning, I awoke not long after dawn. When I walked to the cabin door I found a lovely green Luna Moth staring back at me. It seemed like it had to be some sort of auspicious sign that a good day was ahead.
By 7:30am our crew assembled like a ragtag Voltron and headed off the the start of the Berkshire Big Adventure ride. These friends of mine… they’re just the greatest <3
The start point was 17 miles away from the campground on the tar. It was the first time I’d ever really got to try to stretch the legs of the Husky a little. That type of riding obviously isn’t it’s strong suit but it felt great nonetheless.
Sometimes the universe lines up the sunlight through the trees and the temperature jusssst so and everything feels right in your world. Sunday morning was just like that.
I don’t think I did more than 50mph on that stretch of road to the start but, it felt like the best 50mph ever. Hand on the throttle, I motored up along route 8 where all signs pointed to a great day ahead. The sound of the Husky thumped through the morning. Hell yeah.
Sundays ride would be my first event on the TE310. It is still a bike I don’t know very well. After the 2011 BBA ride, I came away feeling a bit discouraged by my riding on the DRZ. This year I was hoping a better tool might help me to find my confidence.
When we pulled up to the start of the ride, many bikes were already lined up. It never gets old seeing a large group of motorcycles.
During the riders meeting, he delivered a poignant address that left us all with a deep admiration of his courage in the face of such adversity. Live life to the fullest, enjoy each day – those words pierce your heart when you are looking at a man with terminal cancer. But – they ring true for every person, every day. Take it to heart.
As the bikes began to roll out of the start in waves, that excited feeling of finally being on our way came over me. I was probably grinning like an idiot in my helmet. I’m kind of goofy like that.
As you might imagine when it comes to moving over 100 bikes around, there is some clustering and jockeying for position that happens until the groups of riders start to thin themselves out and gap naturally. The first clump came near the first hero section. It was a short stretch of loose mud. From that point on riders began to spread a little more.
Into the slop we go…
The ride was mostly dirt roads with some tar connectors and a couple hero sections thrown in. Those parts were boney, wet and offered something more challenging.
During one of the hero sections a giant puddle swallowed Dan’s bike. The funny thing about muddy water is that you haven’t the slightest idea what’s under there or how deep it is until you’re in it. Ben and Dan managed to dislodge the drowned Husky and get it out of the puddle. After just a few minutes the bike started and on we went.
There was a really nice lady who lived close by who was on hand with a tow rope helping riders who got submarined there. She was kind of excited to see me (a woman rider) out in the muck. She even offered to let me use her bathroom, bless her heart!
There was a good handful of ladies on the ride
About halfway through the ride, I realized that for the first time I didn’t feel like I’d been working hard, I wasn’t scared and I wasn’t even the caboose for the whole ride. I felt… normal great!
I can only attribute it to feeling so much more at home on the Husky. It is such a pleasure to ride. The weight difference over the DRZ alone is a huge change. But that combined with the suspension, the ergos and the responsiveness of the bike make it feel so. damned. good!
Love, love, LOVE this bike!
Since this was the first time I’d taken the TE on an extended ride, I had no idea how much range I could squeeze out of my small fuel tank. When the route came to a close we still had the 17 miles of road ahead to get back to the campground. With only 50 miles on my tank since last fill up, I figured I’d be fine to make it back.
As I buzzed along the hilly pavement, the miles began to tick by. About 5 miles from the entrance to the campground while heading down hill, the bike began to lose power and… died. Out of gas.
I kept the bike rolling and as the ground leveled out, hit the starter and it came back to life. When the ground tipped back upward enough gas would drain back and I could hammer my way up the next hill and play the roller coaster game. I kept that up until the bike died about 300 feet from the entrance to the campground where I rolled into it’s gravel drive. With one last bit of luck, the bike started one more time and I was able to ride to our cabin. I made it by the skin of my teeth and a measly 67 miles on the odometer. WHEW!
As we packed up the truck and made the rounds to say goodbye to our friends who were doing the same, I felt a pang of melancholy. It was sad that our great weekend had come to a close. I loved every minute of our time there.
A few weekends ago I took a ride with some friends who wanted to stop in to the open house at MotoMarket in Acton, Ma. Since I had no interest in buying anything I let the guys know I would be excusing myself for about a half an hour while they ate lunch.
“Where are you going?”
“I’m just going to check something out.”
“It’s a muffler man, isn’t it?”
They know me too well
This big guy stands outside of a used car dealer, waving to the traffic that goes by.
Upon closer inspection he too needs a fresh coat of paint. The poor fella is has a serious case of the peels. And something isn’t quite right with that raised arm. And… well.. there’s this:
Riding your motorcycle instead of your office chair feels a little extra sweet, doesn’t it? On this particular Wednesday after hopping off the ferry and heading north I found myself heading up route 8 north from the Connecticut/Massachusetts border.
While the tires of my bike began to eat up the road I spotted another rider a few turns ahead. As I closed in on him, I discovered that it was a gentleman on a vintage bike. He was out enjoying his midweek ride, too.
Did you ever notice that you can “feel” something happen between you and another rider on the road? Though you don’t really know anything about each other, as the gap of distance closes between you, there passes some similar knowledge or understanding; some kind of connection. You become acutely aware of each others presence in a way that you never would in a car.
The two of us rode along together for about 10 miles. I watched the rider’s body shift and lean through the turns and wondered how many times that old bike had made it’s way along those roads.
When my pavement dance ended with my anonymous partner it closed with a wave and a smile. Time well spent together.
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