Photos Only: Easton, Pa.

CT Bears in Easton, Pa., from left: Grumpy, Token2, Mac, Fonz and Captain with Pogy down front.

Motorcycle Polar Bear Blog, Polar Bear Grand Tour, ride to Easton, Pa., April 23, 2017. 

Just for the history books, there was some confusion on this ride. The restaurant said they were not reminded ahead of time and therefore did not expect the bears. However if you Google Cheeburger-Cheeburger in Easton, Pa., well, we'll see if they are on the schedule for next season.

Fortunately, our bears had already decided on an alternate eatery based upon last year's slow -- and not so good -- service. Token2 found a place and they all ended up together for a nice lunch and ride.

Perfect Penultimate

Easton Bears, from left: CT Blogger, Grumpy, Fonz, Pogy, QEd, Captain, Princess, Mac and unknown.

Polar Bear Motorcycles Blog, ride to Cheeburger Cheeburger, Easton, Pa., April 10, 2016.

By: Chris Loynd

Our next-to-last ride of the 2015/16 season enjoyed Goldilocks Polar Bear riding weather. A not too chilly morning eased into a not too warm afternoon. At some point in the day I employed the full range of thermostat for my gloves, but only half so for jacket, pants and booties. Sun shined. Traffic was light.

Our confident and experienced ride leader kept a silky, sapient and steadfast pace. Our irascible sweep suffered no tailgater gladly and cleared lanes with alacrity. We enjoyed a few moments of drama, including my rather close encounter as a car rabbiting out of the tolls brushed aside my claim of right-of-way, despite the fact I was well ahead and indicating. You can never win a car versus motorcycle battle so I begrudgingly gave way with an astute throttle roll-off maneuver. "You were so calm, I didn't know if you didn't see the car or just had nerves of steel," commented Captain, my second rider, when we parked in Easton.

Somehow I missed exit 14 to I-78 west. It happens just as the NJ Turnpike splits into the truck and car parallels. Guess I missed the sign. My GPS gladly routed me off at exit 13. It was an effective, hectic, fusillade of exit ramps in rapid succession. Several of our riders commented on my exit 13 route. Token2 was representative, "I've never gone that way before. Let's never do it again."

Our destination was just right too. A tiny bit over 150 miles and a little under two hours. A bit less expressway would have been nice. But expressway riding is best in winter when conditions are unpredictable and ice threatens.

Easton, Pa. is delightfully quaint. Word around our lunch table postulated the owner of Cheeburger Cheeburger is politically connected. Easton gave us the street for a whole block in front of the restaurant, Easton's best manning roadblocks just for us.

The owner, big Frank Aversa, is also a biker. He knows what motorcyclists desire: bikes-only parking, great food and a raucous atmosphere. When "Sweet Caroline" came on the sound system, Frank loudly led us all in the chorus. The room roared, "Sweet Car-o-line, da, da, daah, good times never seemed so good, da, da, dum."

Most of us took advantage of the all American fare: burgers with your choice of tasty toppings, fries, onion rings, milkshakes, sodas. One of our group, who will remain nameless, went off the rails when she ordered a salmon burger.

We talked about motorcycles and riding. Mac captured Princess' undivided attention (no small feat) with two magic words: Hoka Hey. She took Fonz's seat and they started planning the next ride right there and then. Fonz suggested maybe there could be an organized ride like Hoka Hey, but with no time limits. You'd just go around and enjoy the scenery. Fonz shared that riding sleep deprived is the equivalent of a 0.05 alcohol buzz.

One of our newest riders, Ed, was more ebullient than usual. I think he's getting the measure of our group. Due to a family obligation, this was also his last Polar Bear ride of the season. Maybe he wanted us to remember him fondly to ensure an invitation next year. Heck, he even bought coffee and hot chocolates at Chez GSP. Yet Ed never partakes.

Token2 named him QEd for Quiet Ed. Of course Token2 is educated enough to be making a pun. QED also is used to show you proved your point in an argument, quod erat demonstrandum. Urban Dictionary defines it as, "A mathematician's way of saying, 'I win.'" Its usage is more favored in British English. Hmmmm.

You can't see Ed in our group picture. He stoically assents to the weekly group photo at the top of every Polar Bear Motorcycles Blog ride post. He cleverly positions himself to be included but not seen. I didn't catch on until I caught up this blog after a period of neglect and thereby had occasion to view the group photos in an hour's time, as opposed to weekly.

He also fights off Princess' efforts to selfie with him. She does that to everybody. This week she selfied with another woman rider just because she had the same Harley heated jacket liner.

The photo's not mandatory, Ed. You're a good rider and fun companion and neither of those are required to ride with us anyway. Just look around at some of the characters in our group! We hope to see you next year.

First there is one ride more: far away Cape May. Right now the weather forecast is for rain. I never believe the long range forecast unless it is good. We'll ride whatever the weather. We'll be at the shore where a salmon burger is perhaps acceptable fare.

Fonz signs up for next season . . .

. . . and earned his gold rocker.

Matching jackets selfie.

Figuring the bill.

Never one of those bill checker pens around when you need one.

Dueling Photographers.

QEd bought a round of coffees and hot chocolates and an espresso for our one classy rider.

Flemington, NJ; April 1, 2012, Motorcycle Polar Bear Blog

Polar Bear Blog, April 1, 2012, Flemington, NJ.

By: Chris Loynd

After Captain's storied ride leadership debacle last week, he adamantly refused to lead this Sunday.

Mac wasn't going to touch it and Fonz had already claimed the sweep position when I rode up to join them at the Dunkin' Donuts in Stratford.

Since it appeared I had no choice, I volunteered.

I had anticipated and prepared. The night before I loaded the destination in my GPS. Then I took a look at the location, Cheeburger, Cheeburger, on Google Maps. Ah, yes, I remember this from last year. This place is tucked deep in a shopping center located at the center of a complex of shopping centers all served by a maniacal New Jersey traffic roundabout.

Did you hear the story about the old farmer who came to town and drove his beat up old pickup truck into one of these New Jersey circular traffic controls?

Upon entering the roundabout, he made the mistake of moving to the inside lane. As his exit came up he tried to move across but a line of cars monopolized outside lane and the farmer meekly held to the center. He figured to exit the next time around, but just then a wankin' big SUV with a phone chatting driver nearly hit him.

The poor old guy figured to make it on the next go-round. As he came up the exit the car tailgating him suddenly swooped out and flipped him the bird as it powered off the farmer's exit. Leaving the poor farmer still on the inside.

Exasperated, the old guy saw his chance and pulled into a gas station that was located on the roundabout. It wasn't his exit, but he needed to gather his wits.

No sooner did he come to a stop then five guys came running out of the station. They pumped his gas, cleaned his windshield, changed his two outside tires, then one of the guys stuck his head into the truck's open window, handed the farmer a cold drink and shouted, "Get back in there old man, you're running in second place!"

I led a quiet and steady ride right up to our destination. Then I hit those roundabouts.

My GPS showed a diagram of the madness and counseled me to take the sixth roundabout exit.

Watch the traffic, the bikes behind me, the cars cutting into our line, and here we go. One, two, three, four, five, six, signal and exit. Dang!

I chose wrong.

Mr. Garmin must have meant six AFTER entering. Or was it six INCLUDING the one on which you entered? And I can't judge 200 feet if you held a gun to my head. Is it this one or the next? They both looked to be within a few hundred feet. And who puts seven or eight exits on one roundabout in the first place? Only in New Jersey where they have an absolute fear of left hand turns and thereby invented roundabouts and jug handles.

All the bikes tumbled in behind me. We were on the wrong road. Well I know we gotta be close. I was tempted to climb up on the Harley's saddle to see if I couldn't spot the dang destination. A visual bearing might have been helpful about now. Instead I was stuck with the little picture on my Garmin which was madly recalculating a fall-back route. I found myself and my five companions sitting at a stop light. Then the Garmin showed me that just to my left and slightly behind me was the road I truly wanted.

At first I figured to go right when the light turned green and recalculate again. Then I decided to make a u-turn and hard right. Yes I did! Despite my own ride leading debacle back at the Whitestone Bridge a few weeks back, I signaled and moved. This time nobody collided or fell.

Another couple jigs and jags and we found ourselves pulling into the parking lot of Cheeburger, Cheeburger.

Whew! As we dismounted I let out a sigh of relief and braced for the onslaught. My fellow riders did not disappoint and chided and teased me.

Captain thanked me for getting him off the hook for his last week's disaster. But it didn't last. He no sooner entered the restaurant 'till our Polar Bear Grand Tour leaders greeted him with pokes in the ribs, kicks to the shins and assaults on his ego.

You gotta have some thick skin to get out in front of this group and take them for a ride.