Maybe We're Getting Soft?

CT Bears at Bahr's Landing. We took the group photo indoors, hey it was raining outside.
From left: Pogy, Captain & Chris.

Polar Bear Motorcycle Blog, Polar Bear Grand Tour, ride to Bahr's Landing, Highlands, NJ, March 10, 2019.

By: Chris Loynd

Maybe we're getting soft. I certainly am willing to admit I'm not as willing as I once was to ride four hours in a cold spring rain. My compatriots agreed. So we decided discretion was the better part and took the car. Pogy offered to drive. I picked up Captain on our end of Connecticut and we drove together south to Pogy's home. Pogy took over and we headed south in his Honda pickup truck.

Grumpy, Anonymous Ed and Fonz were in Daytona for Bike Week. Rumor has it the Fonz is shopping for a new ride since his Harley was totaled by a left-turning car a few weeks ago.

It's maybe a little crazy to drive two hours to have a seafood lunch in New Jersey. We did each earn one point for showing up, albeit on four wheels instead of two. That one point tipped Pogy's tally, earning him his 60-point pin this Sunday.

Pogy managed to make the trip in two-and-a-half hours, despite being in the fast lane most of the way. (See last week's blog if you haven't already.) There was also a bit of a not-so-scenic detour which added to our total travel time.

Pogy's detour wasn't as bad as the time Captain led us into the ghetto. Or that time Clark took us through the worst part of Newark because he was breaking-in his V-rod and didn't want to challenge the engine at interstate speeds. That time I was nearly an unwilling participant in a police car chase. But that's another story.

We had a truly delicious lunch. Bahr's Landing does a wonderful job. Pogy and I miss the turtle soup.

A good time was had by all as we ripped on each other, told big stories and not too much politics.

Captain and Pogy.

Pogy earned just one point this Sunday, but it was enough for his 60-point pin.

Bob pic of the week. He also took our group picture.

Ride To Bahr's Landing

CT Polar Bears at Bahr's Landing, from left: Captain, Pogy, Grumpy, Anonymous Ed and Mac.

Motorcycle Polar Bear Blog, Polar Bear Grand Tour, ride to Bahr's Landing, Highlands, NJ, March 4, 2018.

Report by Pogy:

Departure time today was 0930 from Stratford – Chilly and overcast, but no rain in the forecast – The Captain, Ed, Mac and Grumpy picked me up at 0950 at the rest spot in Darien. The ride down was uneventful  except there were a number of cars today that insisted on breaking into our group – Happened  a  number of times !!

Got to Bahrs just at 1130 so we had an easy check in, got a table at the window and had a lunch – It was nice to have Mac and Grumpy back with us – 

After the photo op, we headed out, got gas and headed north.  No real traffic to speak of – Mac and Grumpy peeled off at 15 off of 287 and we continued to 95 – I was back in the house by 1445

The Captain did a great job of leading the pack –   And Grumpy was the tail gunner in his truck – thanks guys

Ride Safe and see yawl next week

Coldest This Season

CT Bears at Twin Lights, from left: Token2, Grumpy, CT Blogger, Captain, Pogy.

Motorcycle Polar Bear Blog, Polar Bear Grand Tour, ride to Highlands, NJ, Sunday, March 5, 2017.

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

Well just two blogs ago, I quoted my favorite author Mark Twain about the changeability of New England weather. That Sunday's weather was springtime balmy. This Sunday's ride was the coldest of the season so far. It was 12 when I woke up Sunday morning, warmed to 18 by departure time. On the way home the temperature climbed to a nearly tolerable 30.

Hey, I know it's a winter riding club. So I am not complaining about the cold. It is hard to explain the Polar Bear Club. For me, the primary reason is that I cannot contemplate giving up my motorcycle for nearly half the year just because it is cold outside. The stress relief, camaraderie, joy of riding are all there in any weather and under as many layers of clothing as it takes.

Still, I hate being cold. And unlike the Grand Tour's Chairman, I chill easily. Bob Hartpence joked Sunday how he was relieved to see his thermometer this morning. Me, I went into polar preparation.

First step in my most frigid preperation is to attempt to warm my carbureted, 20-year-old motorcycle in my unheated garage. I have one of those electric radiators. Immediately upon waking I jump out of bed, throw on my pants and winter coat and run out to the garage to turn on the heater. The unheated garage is also un-insulated. So I snug the heater up close to the bike's engine and then tent both with a blanket. The old girl's never not started. She's a bit cranky at these very cold temperatures. But on full choke, and with a bit of patience, she'll fire.

Next I prepare myself to achieve some level of comfort. The problem is that to achieve warmth comfort I have to give up some level of clothing comfort. Even with the electrics, all the extra layers get tight and uncomfortable. By the end of the ride I can't wait to get out of my "space suit."

For me, hands are the hardest to keep warm. For really cold days like this one, I switch from my electric gloves to this really great set of NorthFace mountaineering mittens. They're windproof, down filled and I slip one of those air-activated hand warmers inside with my fingers. Works like a charm.

Not all our riders are as wimpy about the temperature as I am. Captain never uses electrics. He layers up and puts hand warmers in his gloves. Grumpy rarely wears a full-face helmet. This ride he showed up in a half helmet and a wrap to protect his face.

Bitter cold whittled our numbers to the core bears. And however we handled it, we all survived the cold just fine.

Despite the cold there was a good turnout at Bahr's Landing, an excellent seafood restaurant right on the water in the shadow of the twin lighthouses. Pogy and I were sorry to no longer see turtle soup on the menu. It was excellent and a treat he and I looked forward to each year.

Token2 showed up on a very, very green new replacement for his grenaded Guzzi.

Trumped

Highlands Bears, from left: Mac, Princess, Thumper, Token2, Ed (hiding in back), Captain, Grumpy, Jim, Pogy and Fonz.

Motorcycle Polar Bear Blog, ride to Bahrs Landing, at the twin lighthouses, Highland, NJ, February 21, 2016.

Once again I had an event at work, part of a new initiative by our new president. This weekend it was the Long Island Sound Luau. Our idea was to offer a tropical respite in bleak midwinter. My luck the weather was freakishly warm in the middle of February. Still we had fun. I poured frozen umbrella drinks and judged the Spam carving contest. John Howard, a.k.a. Token2 offered the report.

 

By: John Howard

No, this is not about the presidential candidate but the word, as defined by the Merriam-Webster dictionary; ‘to be more important than (something) or to do better than (someone or something) in a contest, competition, etc.’ (Hmmm…I suppose it could relate to current politics)

Before the ride began your regular blogger Chris Loynd had his plans to visit Bahr’s Landing trumped by his employer. Work trumps riding; sad but true. So here I am, Token 2,  appearing again as your stand in reporter.

I was trumped when calling the Captain to notify my intention to join the ride.

‘Hello Captain, T2 here just wanted to….” I got no further.

Captain interrupts…’Morning, I need to put you on hold, Princess is also calling…’. The line went dead.

A ten year, gnarly veteran with scores of Polar Bear rides under his belt, put on hold, yes, ON HOLD for an ambitious, perfect attendance seeking newbie. Oh the shame of it, the humiliation. I write this piece crestfallen as there is no longer doubt (if doubt ever there was) that a youthful Polish chick with a little touch of recently anointed blue blood trumps a poker faced, curmudgeonly and increasingly ancient Brit.

Paul, who is now sporting a Thumper rabbit motif on his riding suit, was trumped at Dunkin Donuts in Stratford. Evidently he could not get his Yamaha single kick started when the ride formed up. He had left his ignition on (rookie error by a rookie, so that is OK) and the battery could not raise a spark. No one gave him a jump start so he was left behind to figure things out for himself. Reinforcing the fact that for CT Bears the ride trumps everything.

Fortunately  Thumper was able to buy a couple of AA Duracell batteries from the garage across from the Dunkin and eventually got his mount fired up. He arrived at Bahr’s Landing about 15 minutes after the group. It would seem that while he was spending time getting his Yamaha functional his un-helmeted head was strafed by an overhead bird leaving white deposits in various places in his hair. He claimed it was paint from decorating, I was not persuaded as it looked chunky in places.

I need readers help with the next one. Does a  well filled out, toga wearing, theatrical kind of guy on a 700cc Honda twin trump a skinny, computer code kind of guy on a 400cc single for take-off speed from a standing start? I don’t know as I was in the lead. We were joined by Jim on his son’s Honda Shadow somewhere on our journey south and he then battled things out with Paul on the journey north. Answers on a postcard please…see, increasingly ancient as I said earlier. Oh, have it your way,  send your response via a bloody tweet then.

Fonz trumped everyone on the ‘special day’ front…his birthday. So we sang the traditional song for him at the largely empty Bahr’s Landing (yes, we arrived at 11 and departed at 12.30pm). Pogy doesn’t much care for special days and asked who gave a ****.  No one had a good answer, so we just tucked into our food and stopped talking.

Mac has his special day next Saturday we learned…tying the knot, and will make things uber special with a trip to Africa for the honeymoon. Two-up? That would trump everything  don’t you think?

Grumpy made a return after most advisedly opting out of last week’s shiver-fest. His compositional talent for taking the group shot, one close in another with the restaurant signage in view was not fully appreciated by the group, well, Captain mostly. QEd (Quiet Ed) who has never once heckled Grumpy  rounded out the group of ten CTPB’s that made the run.

My mother told me to be careful of the quite ones …and she was right.  QEd along with Pogy must have wrangled an invite to Fonzies birthday party (and sleepover?) given the three of them slipstreamed past as seven of us exited at the Montvale rest stop. Nice, don’t forget to bring the rest of us some cake next week! (And keep it frozen until then so it stays fresh!).

This weekend had nice temperatures, nearing 60°F , which certainly trumps what was endured last week. The waitress who served us did not wear hotpants  or show cleavage; Bahr’s Landing is always ‘delightfully refined and yet untacky’ . She was efficient serving our group of 9 plus a latecomer and the food was customarily good. Traffic was not so bad, but intensified on the journey north.

Paul hosted the Montvale drinking session, thank you.

In deference to the title just a note on the presidential primary front, there was discussion over the beverages at Montvale about  the runner up positions in South Carolina. I Googled CNN  and reported, but was advised that CNN was not reliable. Only when confirming the report via Glenn Beck was the result accepted. No names; but for some Beck trumps CNN. Oh and I thought Cruuuuuuuz was a wide receiver for the NY Giants!

And finally on the local news Sunday night it was reported that over 100 seals had pulled out of the water on a sand bank in the Sandy Hook National Park, a stone’s throw from  today’s destination. The news did not report on the motorcycle gathering just down the road and so I conclude that seals trump polar bears, but I have never seen them eat one.

Until next time.

Princess holding court.

Fonz and Quiet Ed.

About to be married Mac.

Happy Birthday Fonz.

This week's author.

Thumper.

Token2 earns his gold rocker and is instantly Facebook famous.

Grumpy has everyone and the restaurant name . . . nearly.

Big man on a little bike.

Highlands, NJ, February 26, 2012, Polar Bear Motorcycle Blog

Polar Bear Blog, February 26, 2012, Highlands, NJ.

By: Chris Loynd

Often I tease my fellow riders, boasting that my position as blog author makes me final arbiter of truth for our Sunday rides as reported here. But this one I have to own. This one I have to admit to. It was too egregious. There were too many witnesses. Physical evidence remains.

The worst led ride in Polar Bear history found me at the front, in charge, at least until the mutiny occurred.

Sunday's debacle was not my intention. It all seemed so easy on Google Maps.

Our Polar Bear rides are, by necessity, heavily dependent upon the New Jersey Turnpike and Garden State Parkway. When I consulted Google Maps for our route to Highlands, N.J., it offered three alternatives. One was way too familiar: down I-95, over the GW Bridge, down the Turnpike. The other was just as well worn: Tappan Zee to GSP. Then there was a third option.

So I thought to myself, “Hey! This is just 10 minutes longer. And it is the road less traveled – by us at least. It might be fun to take I-278 west down through Queens and Brooklyn, over the very cool Verrazano-Narrows Bridge and across Staten Island and then down Route 9. We would never even touch the Turnpike or Parkway! And how bad can the traffic be on a Sunday morning?”

I successfully navigated my Garmin software to map out the route, complete with way points. I then transferred it to my sophisticated, on-board, computer, global positioning, satellite receiver.

As it turned out, I should have used the wax pencil on my mirrors.

Any confidence I have built for my GPS over the past two years was shattered in a single Sunday. There is no longer any trust between us.

At first we had a grand time. Garmin and I were simpatico. I was really enjoying the urban twisties as the Hutchinson River Parkway became even more serpentine south of the GW Bridge. All too soon we were at the Whitestone Bridge. And there is started.

They have those damn toll gates. And it turned out that Pogy carries his EZ Pass mounted to the inside lid of his saddlebag. So when it did not read, there was a substantial time loss as he dismounted, opened the bag, handed the transponder to a disapproving toll clerk, remounted . . . well you get the idea. Our group came apart.

Exiting the bridge I saw a left-side turnout of sorts. It being New York City there was no shoulder on the right side. I pulled in there and waited for us to regroup.

We launched back onto the expressway, a feat of itself in traffic.

Then I missed a turn.

Leading a group of bikes, six were behind me, severely limits your options for navigation error recovery. If I had been by myself, I would have managed it all okay. And I would not have to report my stupidity in this public forum. Heck, I might have even paid three tolls for the Whitestone Bridge. I might have, if it was just me.

Instead, I blindly followed my GPS into bedlam. At lunch only then did a fellow rider reveal the causal element. “Sometimes when you miss a way point, your GPS will route you backwards to that point, instead of pointing you forward to the next one,” Token2 explained. “A better way is to plug in each point-to-point as a separate trip.”

Ignorant of that Garmin foible, and mildly panicked about missing the expressway after the bridge, and with a gaggle of conflicting opinions about the right way out of the mess, I found myself on the on-ramp headed back north to the #$%^& Whitestone Bridge, when I wanted to be going south away from the bridge.

A solution presented itself. One or two of my fellow riders even concurred. But not all of us executed the solution flawlessly.

Fortunately, no one was injured. Mac's rack should be able to be bent back to its original position. (Flag rack. On his bike. Geeze! What were you thinking?) Captain's front end may need replacing. But it's a Honda and therefore plastic and presumably only a money matter, perhaps even covered by insurance.

All that on my mind and a second wrong turn soon after recovering from the bridge roundabout and Token2 rode up with an offer to lead me to an easily discernible path, at which point he offered that I could attempt to regain any shred of dignity I might by retaking the lead. I was defeated. I agreed.

As we headed Token's way, me in the second position, I saw straight ahead of me the freeway ramp for which I'd so frustratingly searched. It was right there. It was straight ahead. It was the way point my GPS had been seeking. I should charge ahead and take it! The light turned green. I meekly followed Token instead, turning left to go a different way than my brilliant, desktop computer plan.

Eventually I recovered and saw the Verrazano-Narrows Bridge ahead. Holy crap! Thirteen dollars? The toll is $13? Oooooh, ouch! I should have Googled that the night before. It might have changed the whole route right there, and saved me the embarrassment of this ride.

I have always wanted to ride this great bridge on my motorcycle. When it opened in 1964 it had the distinction of having the longest suspended span in the world. Greater than even the Golden Gate Bridge. The mighty towers at either end holding up the span actually are built to lean away from each other to allow for the earth's curvature. Each is held together by 3 million rivets and a million bolts. John Travolta danced around the mighty suspension cables in “Saturday Night Fever.” I had never been on the bridge on my motorcycle.

Myself, I gladly paid the toll. It was a thrill, even if it cost something like a dollar a second. But I would not have foisted that fee on my fellow riders without their prior consent. Lunch cost just $20 apiece, for heaven's sake, and was really good, and lasted an hour.

It will be a month before I get my EZ Pass statement. However, according to MTA's web site, the motorcycle EZ Pass is heavily discounted and cost us only $4.18. The $13 sign was for cars paying cash. By comparison, New York should have whacked us $2.09 for the Whitestone Bridge and actually charged us more, $4.75, for the far less dramatic Tappan Zee Bridge.

But you know how it is. These guys will forever remember the $13.

Over the Verrazano and rocketing across stately Staten Island, a perverse thought crept into my head.

Things were settled down now. We were back in our groove. And I wondered, if only for a moment, I wondered, I was still in the lead mind you, I wondered if these guys would all follow me if I just now dove off on some random exit. My voice of reason told me I had instigated enough confusion for the day and any shenanigans would be poorly received.

At lunch I did offer my return route up for a vote. The resounding majority was for the good old, boring Garden State Parkway. And off we trudged yet again.