Polar Bear Motorcycles: Racing Snow

Collegeville Connecticut Bears, from left: Grumpy, CT Blogger, Token2 and Captain.

Motorcycle Polar Bear Blog, Polar Bear Grand Tour, ride to Collegeville, Penn., December 11, 2016.

By: Chris Loynd, a.k.a. CT Blogger

Season's first snow was forecast to fall this Sunday. We were all watching the "futurecast" closely Saturday night. Fortunately flakes were not predicted until late in the day. On Saturday night the weather prognosticators were suggesting a 7 p.m. snow start; Sunday morning they moved it up to 6. That was a weather window with which we could work.

However, early Sunday morning Token2 was looking at radar showing a snow swath over Philadelphia, closeby our destination, and wondering if he should ride. Dude! You're the one with the adventure touring motorcycle. The one who rode to the Arctic Circle.

Weathermen also promised us the first truly bearish Polar Bear ride of the season, forecasting temperatures in the low twenties in the morning and not much above freezing the whole day.

I broke out my Freeze-out onesie for the first time this season. I should have put on the hippo hands too. My Warm and Safe suit cranked more than enough heat for my body, right down to my toes. I never turned it up more than halfway. But the gloves struggled. Even at full heat my fingers were too cold. Hands fared better on the ride home. It's amazing what 10 extra degrees can do.

Gloves are tough. Make them too thick and they're no good for the motorcycle controls. They also need to be waterproof. Leather is preferred for protection, but is thick. Someone needs to design a glove with a thin, windproof and waterproof layer. I'd also like a longer gauntlet. My Warm and Safe gloves just barely cover my jacket sleeves. It is quickly annoying when you have even a tiny air leak up your sleeve at 20 degrees and 65 miles per hour. Some Polar Bear riders wrap the gap with duct tape.

In defense of Warm and Safe, my gloves are an older model. Their new "Ultimate Touring Gloves" look to have deeper gauntlets and double heating wires in the thumb. Maybe next season? My wife tries to understand, but my motorcycle gear collection baffles her. How many pairs of gloves does one man need?

Whether it was weather or whatever, we were down to the Connecticut Polar Bear core Sunday: Captain and Grumpy met me at the Dunkin' Donuts in Stratford, our weekly starting point. Captain told me about Token2's radar watching; they'd spoken earlier Sunday morning. "He said he may or may not be at the bus stop," Captain said.

Turned out Token2 strapped them on and was waiting for us.

I had the lead. Captain was sweep. Grumpy and Token2 tucked inside. We had a lot of ground to cover and a short weather window. With a small group of experienced riders, I turned up the wick. Grumpy was on me like glue. Captain was reading my mind, clearing lanes before I signaled. It was delightful.

Our destination was Appalachian Brewing Company in Collegeville, Penn., just north of Philadelphia. It is agonizingly close to 400 miles round trip. But we get only five points for the 380 mile ride. Not that we should complain. Most of our New Jersey, New York and Pennsylvania Polar Bear brethren earn far fewer points on these rides. I've always said the Grand Tour is really not meant for us coming from Connecticut as we do. They graciously accept us all the same.

Starting out at 8:00 a.m., we figured to be in Collegeville well before the 11:30 sign-in. Last year an 8 a.m. start put us there at 8:20. With our tight group, a quick turnpike rest stop pee break and a bit of spirited riding, we hit town at 11:10 a.m.

Token2 was right. Light Pennsylvania flurries swirled around us as we searched for a spot of lunch.

Appalachian Brewing has notoriously slow service. So we hit a Friendly's a few miles off of the turnpike. We figured to polish off our repast and then ride into town to sign in and earn our points.

Friendly's lived up to its name and then some. Our waiter was friendly and accommodated us with a six seat table even though we were only four. Spare table top and chairs were piled with helmets, jackets and gear.

Captain had breakfast; Grumpy, Token2 and I had lunch. Food was tasty and fast. I went way off my diet with the fried clam strips, one of my all time favorites. Token2 and I upgraded to waffle fries. Yum! Everybody in the restaurant was friendly. Several folks struck up conversations with us. Four guys on motorcycles in winter were novel enough. Four guys from Connecticut doubly so. The nice lady in the booth next to us handed us a couple of $5 off coupons she had clipped from some circular somewhere. And our waiter cleverly split our ticket so we could take advantage of both. (Maybe that's supposed to be a secret? If someone from corporate is monitoring, rest assured we would have sat at two adjoining but not touching tables to get the deal!)

We were done in less than an hour, even took the group photo in the Friendly's parking lot. At Appalachian Brewing we didn't even take off our helmets, just strolled in, signed in, and were feet-up in five minutes.

Gas and go just before the Pennsylvania Turnpike on-ramp and we were hustling for home. We even skipped coffee in our stop at the top. Traffic was light, even across the Tappan Zee Bridge. As always, the worst congestion was in Connecticut. We rubber-banded a bit on the Merritt.

Even so, my ST was in the garage by 4:00 p.m.

I was sitting on the couch recovering, after exploding out of my multilayer riding gear and into comfortable jeans and sweatshirt, when my phone rang. It was Captain. "I'm driving behind a salt spreader," he said. He was in his car headed to Sue's place. "It's snowing!" The time was 5:20 p.m.