By: Chris Loynd
Slightly bearish weather kept some of
the cubs in their dens Sunday. It truly wasn't that cold.
When I woke up it was 20 degrees
outside. Since we had a fairly close destination a 9:00 a.m. allowed
temperatures to rise five degrees before I mounted the Harley. By the
ride home it was a balmy 40-plus under a pale blue and cloudless sky.
We still had a sizable group of nine.
Over the years, our Connecticut Polar Bears hardcore core has grown
from three to 10 regulars. Bart missed Sunday. He was chaperoning a
group at my workplace: The Maritime Aquarium at Norwalk.
Leaving Dunkin' Donuts we had six. For
the second week in a row, Fonz missed us by minutes but chased us
down on the Interstate. Turns out he had to pause for a discussion of
marker light protocol with one of his law enforcement brethren in
Bridgeport.
Pogy was waiting for us at his usual
pick up point nearer his Norwalk home than our Stratford departure
point. And finally we grabbed Token2 at the entrance to the Hutch.
Captain was leading this ride, which
turned out to be fortuitous.
As we approached the entrance to the
George Washington Bridge, New York's finest were just then striking
flares and closing the on ramp.
Using his strong knowledge of the City
that Never Sleeps, Captain took us on a tour of Harlem for a detour.
We rode down 125th Street and past the Apollo Theater. The
holiday decorations were very nostalgic looking. I am thinking they
were probably purchased back in the 1920s when Harlem was a cool
place to be.
Folks on the street gawked at our
impromptu parade.
Negotiating the city our group was a
fluid string of magnetic buckyballs. (I threw in that reference for
my sister Gretchen, who doesn't even read my blog.) We came apart and
reformed multiple times as we worked our way through the traffic
lights and dodged pedestrians and potholes. Captain paused just
before taking to the West Side Highway to allow our formation to
rebuild.
Then as we formed up in a lane to turn
onto 42nd Street, a BMW tried to cut us in half. I held
him back to let the other bikes in ahead of me. We were slippery and
binding.
After his tour of Harlem, I was a
little disappointed Captain did not also take us through Times
Square. We were, after all, on 42nd Street, if only for a
few blocks.
We came apart again just a few blocks
later making the turn for the Lincoln Tunnel.
New Yorkers do not yield. Those
Grinches respected our line of bikes not at all, not one little bit,
cutting in and cutting off, because their hearts are two sizes too
small. Sing along with me . . . I looooove New York . . . .
Suddenly I found myself lead of three
bikes riding through the Lincoln Tunnel. My GPS went dark about
two-thirds of the way through. I guess it didn't like losing its
grasp upon the satellites. As we exited the tunnel, I was trying to
negotiate the cagers, reboot the Garmin, read the traffic signs and
guess which choice led to the turnpike.
As we crested a small hill I looked far
to the horizon and what to my wandering eyes should appear but the
twinkling running lights of six tiny, scratch that, six big,
motorcycles, well except for Token2 who was on his little BMW with
the ice cream cases bolted to the tail.
We stragglers caught the main body just
as we approached the New Jersey Turnpike. After that the ride was
easier.
With all the detours we still arrived
pert near 11:30. Even so the lot was full and the restaurant bulging.
A few of us tried to cobble together a few tables and booths around
the bar. Little did we know our guys found the back-back room. That's
right. Behind the back room the cabin has a back room. And there we
found a table for the nine of us.
Lunch was good. Grumpy could not get
pickles on his cheeseburger. But once we got through that crisis,
things settled down nicely.
Speaking of pickles, Pogy continued his
largesse, this time producing a jar of giant pickles for the
Grumpster. Wild speculation surrounded the possible origin of the
vinegar-bathed cukes. There was some mention of kimchee. We'll have
to get a report from Grumpy on how they tasted.
Our ride home was uneventful. There
were a couple times when our formation had to flow through toll
booths and reform. Here and there a cager threatened. But that is
part of Polar Bearing. See you next week.
No comments:
Post a Comment