Polar Bear Port Jervis, NY; November 21, 2010

Polar Bear Port Jervis, NY; November 21, 2010

By: Chris Loynd

Well the chill is in the air, but not yet the winter. I still have not installed my hippo hands. Fonz got a new set and I like the way they fit over his master cylinder. He got the actual, branded, Hippo Hands. I have a knockoff pair.

Fonz had his electrics this time, but I didn't get a chance to get his report on how he liked them. More on that later in the blog.

Pogy had navigation problems. Fortunately, he had some good bikes to lead him to and fro. Every week I send out an alert e-mail to our Connecticut and affiliated Polar Bears. In that e-mail I detail our destination and departure time. For years now I have repeated the same line, over and over, that we meet at the Dunkin' Donuts in Stratford, just off I-95, Exit 30, at the corner of Lordship Blvd. and Honeyspot Rd. So last week I finally got tired of repeating myself, figured everyone knew the Dunkin' by now, and merely said we would meet at the Dunkin' on Lordship Blvd. In so doing, we almost lost Pogy before we started.

My first clue to Pogy's navigation issues should have been a couple days earlier when he asked if I meant to say we were going to Port Jervis in New Jersey, not New York. I flippantly replied that we would stop at the first Port Jervis we came to on Interstate 84.

Port Jervis, New York, is right at the confluence of New York, New Jersey and Pennsylvania. So I figured Pogy was looking at a map and was simply mistakenly identifying the state.

Turns out when we got a chance to talk at lunch in Port Jervis, NY, he was thinking of Port Jarvis, NJ. He was headed for the Jersey shore. Glad he didn't set his sights on that one! And by the way, Google has never heard of the place!

I guess he was consulting his naval charts instead of land maps.

At the Cornucopia, he made a disparaging comment such that Port Jervis must not be much of a port because it is inland. In fact it was once a very important port on the Delaware River, doubly so in 1828 when the Hudson and Delaware canal was completed. The canal created a highly profitable conduit for Pennsylvania anthracite coal from the Moosic mountains to New York City. It offered an American answer to problems caused by importation of British bituminous coal. The city was renamed from the Indian settlement inspired Mahackamack to Port Jervis in honor of John Bloomfield Jervis, an engineer on the canal project.

Port Jervis' other claims to fame include being raided and burned before the Batle of Minisink in 1779 and for a famous lynching in 1892. More recently Port Jervis was named #1 coolest small town by Budget Magazine.

Maybe the confusion is because Pogy has the heart of a waterman. He has a boat for pleasure cruising. But he also rides a working boat for leisure. When he's not fishing for helicopter buyers, his idea of a good time is the kind of work most people say is a very tough way to make a living. I forget if it was dredging for oysters or pulling lobster traps. It is hard, wet, often cold work, generally started before dawn and pursued in all weather. Long Island Sound ain't exactly “Deadliest Catch,” still it is tough stuff, double tough. But Pogy does it for fun.

Meanwhile, the one week I don't give the exact Dunkin' meeting location in my pre-ride e-mail, Pogy decides to ride up from Norwalk to meet us in Stratford and is waiting at another Dunkin' in Stratford. (Usually we pick him up en route at the Darien rest stop on I-95.) Pogy said he thought I meant this other, particular Dunkin' on Lordship Blvd. But no matter how you fold the map, he was sitting at the corner of Main St. and Access Rd. He did get the right town, thank heavens.

Fortunately, I live nearby and Pogy saw me blow by his Dunkin' on my way to the Dunkin' where the rest of us CT Bears were waiting. (I thought those Gold Wings had GPS built in?)

He fired up the Gold Wing and caught up to us before we departed.

As did Fonz, see his explanation in the photo version of the blog at: http://www.influentialcom.com/ . He pulled a “Chris” by showing up just as everyone else was kicking up their kickstands.

After the grumbling last week about our group riding technique, and despite your Blogger's perfect ride leadership skills, we decided to break into two groups this week. It certainly is easier to manage. But as one of our guys said, it is not nearly as cool.

I took the first group. We put the biggest grumbler from last week at the head of the second column.

It was gratifying to see that our CT Bears are reading the blog. Last week I spent a bit of space in this blog reviewing proper group riding technique with an emphasis on lane changing. I am happy to report, as evidenced by looking through my rear view mirrors, my words were not wasted.

We enjoyed a smooth and flawless ride. It is also a pretty one, if a biker can use such terms.

Connecticut's Route 34 is scenic and twisty, angling from Derby to Danbury. Then Interstate 84 is far less frenetic than I-95. It is far enough away from New York City to make it somewhat pleasurable to ride, especially when traffic is light.

You go up and down some mountains, the high points opening to vista views. Much of the road also follows rivers and these are lined with willow trees, still holding their thousands of tiny yellow leaflets when the other deciduous trees have relinquished their coverings. This makes the willows' cascading branches look like fireworks fountains scattered amongst the winter-dead landscape.

The Cornucopia in Port Jervis has a nice, big, paved parking lot. My group arrived first and I was able to get off my bike in time to catch some good riding shots of our second group arriving.

Proprietors offered a delicious buffet at a bargain 10 bucks. We were early enough to be first through the line. It appeared we were the only ones eating. Hopefully the crowd picked up later. The restaurant does a nice job of accommodating the Bears and deserves to be rewarded.

CT Bear talk was mostly of motorcycle things. Russ was telling big stories, as only Russ can do. Some of the discussion was about the upcoming Sunday's ride. It is the Sunday after Thanksgiving and last year we spent a bit of time in traffic. Unfortunately, being from Connecticut we have to get around New York City and over the Hudson River to get home after visiting Hillybilly Hall. Ugh!

For some reason, there was a lot of talk of carry permits. (This too came into play later in the day.)

Discussion revolved around which states offered reciprocal permits, apparently anyone from anywhere can carry a concealed weapon in Florida. There was some knowledgeable advice on how to transport a gun across states where you do not have a permit. All I know is if we are ever stopped and searched, I know nothing! I hear nothing! I see nothing! I say nothing!

On the other hand, if the Polar Bear Grand Tour ever adds a Newark destination, I would not want to ride with anybody but these guys.

For the ride home, I asked Captain to switch places with me; he would take lead and I would be sweep. I was unfamiliar with the Danbury Starbucks where we planned to take our coffee break. Another seemingly small decision had hour-long consequences.

Captain quickly capitulated to Bart. I'm not sure why. It really mattered not to me, except that Bart was maybe a little heavy on the horses for my taste.

I figure my old girl with 130,000-plus miles on the original mill will last the Polar Bear season if I baby her. I am no mechanic, but I do have some intrinsic sense that all the moving parts work harder at 80 mph than they do at 70.

Nonetheless, I kept up with the group.

Everybody should ride sweep at some time. You see everything. You see smooth riders, and jerky ones, and suffer most by the rubber band speeds caused by the jerky ones. You see riders who hold their lane position, and others who wander such that you wonder if they suffer vertigo.

Since my mini treatise on group riding last week seemed to bear fruit, here is another installment.

Group riding is not like riding by yourself or with a friend or two. You have a responsibility to the other riders in your group. Group riding requires a far higher attention and awareness than cruising by yourself on a Sunday afternoon.

To be fair to your fellow riders, you need to stay in your space, horizontally and vertically, as tightly as possible. You should make micro adjustments in your speed, not macro ones. Rolling off then speeding up is multiplied by every bike behind you trying to adjust to your inattentiveness. The sweep rider gets the worst of it.

Drifting left and right scares your fellow riders. They don't know if you are not paying attention or unable to ride smoothly in a straight line. Neither is a safe nor comfortable conclusion.

On the ride home we had some confusion at the Beacon Falls bridge tolls. Gates again. Wonder if some of these guys' EZ Passes ever read?

We managed to regroup and rode for a bit then Captain dropped out and onto the shoulder. As sweep, I dropped out to see what was up. Kevin dropped out too. As I rode up to the Captain, his bike was complaining loudly, “clack, clack, clack.” Captain shouted, “I think it's a bearing.”

Have you seen the tee shirts “Ride it Like You Stole it”? Well Captain rode it like he was gonna blow it. It didn't. Blow up, that is. But the motor did stop. Captain coasted along the shoulder until he found a mile marker sign.

I'm following, thinking, “Stop here. This is the sunny spot.” But the mile marker was in deep shade.

Hey, sun can make a big difference in warmth on a cold November day.

“I'm done,” Captain said as I pulled alongside. Kevin dropped to the shoulder too. Per procedure, the rest of the bikes kept going, headed to warm lattes in Danbury.

One of the foibles of Harley Owners' Group towing insurance is that they will tow your bike only to the nearest Harley dealership. That would have meant Danbury H-D. And then Captain would have to travel back and forth an hour one way from his Milford home. So instead he called his insurance company. Only they pretended not to know him.

First they said he would have to pay for the tow because they could not find his policy. “Fine, lady, I'll pay,” Captain said, “just send someone to come get me!”

Next they asked his permission to access the GPS function on his cell phone to verify his position. “Fine lady,” Captain said, “just send someone to come get me!”

Okay, they said they would call back. Then Captain's Blackberry bit the big one.

Next he called the insurance company back on my cell phone and gave them that number as an alternate call back number. I don't know if he let them access my GPS function. But I have noticed the geckos at the Aquarium looking at me in a strange way.

Captain discovered that by keeping his Blackberry stored in his armpit he was able to squeeze a few more moments out of the battery. I told you to stop in the sunshine.

In fact, getting cold, Kevin and I decided to push Captain's bike up the hill to a sunny spot on the shoulder. This was the same time the State Trooper decided to stop by.

I walked back and told him the guy up the hill was the one with trouble. So he pulled his squad car out and around to the Captain. I followed on my bike. Kevin decided he was superfluous and headed for home.

Turns out the insurance company sent the state trooper to verify Captain was in fact broken down on the shoulder of Interstate 84.

The cop took Captain's license and walked back to his car. “They're checking for wants and warrants,” Captain explained. “You're not packing?” I asked, considering the lunchtime conversation. I mean I figure being sweep bike obligates me to spend an hour or two on the shoulder with a broken down bike. But a night in jail seems over and above the call of duty.

Captain immediately responded with a firm “no” delivered with a warm and confident smile. At first I was relieved. But then I thought to myself that his response was the standard one anyone carrying a concealed gun would give. What good is it to carry a CONCEALED weapon if everyone knows you have one? I must say Captain delivered the line well.

Now that we had been properly identified and verified, the trooper cleared a tow truck who was only some 15 minutes away. (Fortunately the officer did not ask to search us.) In fact, the trooper was great and offered to let us warm up in his car. But my heart was still pumping, a trickle of sweat rolling down my back, after pushing Captain's bike up the hill. Plus now we were standing in streaming sunlight.

We told the trooper we were good and he said to just call if we needed anything.

Sure enough some 15 minutes later the tow truck appears.

We spent 45 minutes arranging for a tow truck that was waiting for a call a mere 15 minutes away. Hmmm, seems the logistics workers at the insurance company could have done a better job.

Captain negotiates a ride to his shop, Laurel and Harley in Stratford. We strap his Road King to the roll back truck. I offered to follow Captain and the truck to Stratford. I live there and figured I could get my car to give Captain a ride home from the shop.

Captain said the tow truck driver said he liked to haul ass. And he did. There went that many more RPMs on my old Springer's mill. But we all got home just fine. Next Sunday, Captain will be on his Wing. I hear they never break down.

Thank you Captain for teaching me a valuable lesson. I had always worried, been afraid even, of breaking down. My bike has so far had a legendary ability to break down only on the doorstop of a qualified Harley-Davidson dealership.

But Captain demonstrated for me that it's no big deal.

All told we were delayed a bit more than an hour. The insurance company, state police and tow company came to our aid; they were friendly, competent and capable. Captain later said the insurance company eventually recognized him and will reimburse his expenditure.

I will bring my cell phone charger with me on every ride from now on. And I will pick up one of those battery-operated emergency phone chargers as a back up solution.

Still, I am no longer afraid to “Ride it 'Till it Quits.” See you Sunday. Maybe.