Notable or Notorious Connecticut Bears?

Montgomeryville Bears, from left: CT Blogger (your's truly), Token2, Captain, Mac, Fonz, Princess and down front of his own volition the Pogster.

Motorcycle Polar Bear Blog, ride to Montgomeryville Cycle Center, Hatfield, Penn., December 6, 2015.

By: Chris Loynd

There's a line in the movie "The Natural" where Robert Redford's lead character baseball great Roy Hobbs asks sportswriter Max Mercy (played by Robert Duvall), if he ever played the game. "No," Mercy answers, "Never did. But I make it more interesting to watch."

Perhaps this blog makes some small contribution to making the Polar Bear Grand Tour a bit more interesting. And for the record, I do ride with the Polar Bears, and from Connecticut.

We knew early on that more than our Connecticut contingent read this blog. It started with the Captain and his hat. Pretty soon random strangers came up to him at Polar Bear meets addressing him by his blog promulgated moniker. It happens still. It happened just today.

Last week we created a new character in the Connecticut Bear's Pantheon. I had christened her Long Distance Diva. But Captain crowned her a Princess last week. And that's the name that stuck.

So much so that when I signed in this Sunday, Flight B Leader Jim barely said hello before he blurted out something about his girlfriend, or was it my girlfriend, did we bring her? Is she here? I had no idea what he was asking and mumbled a confused, "Huh?" "The Princess," he said emphatically, "Did she come this week?" "Oh. Yes," I replied. "She's out in the parking lot yapping, I mean, holding court."

Joanna was surprised, and I think secretly delighted, to see her sign-in sheet decorated, presumably by our Flight B Leaders, in a fashion befitting her station.

So whether you see us as notable, or notorious, we are happy to have you share our adventures.

Token2, back from his European travails, was pressured into leading this week's ride. He made the mistake, I guess, of riding up to the Stratford Dunkin' Donuts where our rides begin. (Usually we pick him up en route because he lives farther west in Connecticut; in fact, about as far west as one can live in our tiny state.)

Like Fonz last week, Token did a stellar job of leading . . .. right up to the point where we actually had to find our destination. Like Fonz, he exited too early. Either that, or he wanted us to tour the lovely holiday decorations of Chalfonte.

It is amazing how Pennsylvanian everything looks as soon as you cross over the Delaware River. Maybe it's because we come ashore at New Hope. Houses and businesses are lovely field stone with big wooden doors and wooden window shutters. They line narrow streets. Everything turns colonial. At lunch Joanna commented on seeing a sign for the Cock and Bull restaurant. She's heard of cock fighting and bull riding, but was shocked at such a name for an eatery.

(By the way, Token2 ditched the scenery on the ride home. He insisted on sticking to the Interstates, striking out for I-78 east, which led us through miles of retail that looked like every endless American strip mall. One notable exception was the fake silos on the truck weigh station buildings on I-78. Nice touch PennDOT, nice touch.)

We always have a bit of trouble with Montgomeryville. For one thing, our leaders -- me included -- never seem to be sure if we are approaching it from north or south and therefore are looking for it on the left or right. One year I famously missed catching it on the right because I was expecting it on the left and rode right past. It's not like there's a giant building and a big sign and a parking lot filled with motorcycles. All but my wing man, ever-faithful Russ, jumped ship and exited for the dealership. Russ is the world's best motorcycle wing man. He'll follow you up a tree, if that's where you're headed. Then there's the infamous story of Captain leading a ride all the way here to Montgomeryville Cycle Center on a day the Grand Tour destination was elsewhere. He led on, and on, ignoring boisterous protestations by his followers. As Captain says, "The minute I crested the hill, I knew I was in trouble." Hey, anyone can push the wrong button on a GPS, right?

At at stop light, somewhat close to our destination, Token shouted to me asking on which side he should expect the dealership. I just shrugged my shoulders. For the record, it was on the left, well actually on the right if you were to continue down the highway, but you have to exit to the right on that little spur which means the dealership is now on your left. If you've been here you know what I mean!

The folks at Montgomeryville Cycle Center always treat us very well. It took them a few years to get the Polar Bear thing down pat. Their first year hosting they went all out with a pig roast. And it snowed. Now they offer a hearty chili with fixin's, including corn bread, and a brownie. It is tasty, piping hot and served fast, as was the coffee. We all had seconds. Thank you!

The dealership also offers good deals on their stuff for us Bears. They were selling Warm and Safe jacket liners for half price this year. I was tempted to buy a second one as a backup to the liner I bought just before the season started.

One year, Fonz brought one of his buddies and the guy ended up buying a motorcycle . . . well you can't actually buy a motorcycle on Sunday in Pennsylvania. He fell in love with a motorcycle and then went back the next week to buy it. He hasn't ridden with us since. I don't think that's any reflection on his motorcycle or the dealership. The cold weather thing just did not resonate for him.

Montgomeryville has often been a weather-challenged destination. But this season we've not yet earned our "Polar Bear" status. The weather has been unseasonably warm; not that I'm complaining. Joanna was grousing about seeing frost this morning. Wait until we're riding the whole day with sub-freezing temperatures.

Our plight was summed up by a guy in his shirtsleeves just coming back to his car in the rest stop parking lot at the top of the Garden State Parkway. We were just dismounting and pulling off helmets and gloves. He asked Pogy, "When was the last time you guys were riding on the first weekend of December?" "Last year," Pogy answered back. And that, my friends, is the essence of the Polar Bear Grand Tour.

Fonz checks in at Flight B. Where's the Princess?

Thank you Montgomeryville Cycle for a great feed!

Delicious and perfect for even warm Polar Bears.

The ride home was in temperatures near 50.

Even with the stop at the top we made it home with a bit of pink left in the sky.

Lake Hopatcong, NJ, January 15, 2012, Polar Bear Motorcycles Blog

Lake Hopatcong, NJ, January 15, 2012
Polar Bear Motorcycle Blog

By: Chris Loynd

We finally got some polar bearish weather for our winter motorcycle rides. Sunday the temperature was 17 when I started out. By the end of our ride temperatures had not climbed even 10 degrees. I finished at a still frigid 24.

As I pulled up to the Dunkin' Donuts launching point, just in time, maybe even too close to just in time (had some trouble finding my really cold weather gear), Captain was holding court to determine who would lead. Since I was so close to the start time, and it was so cold, I left my bike running and my helmet on. So shouting back and forth, Captain and I had very poor communications.

We tried to goad Fonz into taking the lead. "I can get us to New Jersey," he offered. We then suggested he could sweep instead. Actually Fonz is a good sweep. He's responsive, proactive and cars move over for those funky lights of his.

I was trying to suggest that whoever was leading would take the more scenic route that I had suggested earlier in the week in my e-mail setting the time. Captain answered that Pogy and Token2 were picking us up en route. So I shouted back I would take the lead and pulled out to start our line.

Captain pulled up next to me and I wanted to confirm where we were catching Token2. My plan was to stick to I-287, crossing on the Tappan Zee bridge. Captain said yes, that was where Token2 would be waiting. As John J. pulled into the group of bikes, I took off. Only at lunch when communications were again established, and this time without helmets in our way, I found out Captain felt I stole the lead from him. He was gracious in conceding it all the same.

Looking at Google Maps the week before our ride, I had spotted a nice rural route alternative that added only a few minutes more to our ride. Instead of riding I-287 to I-80, expressway all the way, Route 23 took us up through some New Jersey woodlands.

As cold as it was Sunday, I probably should have checked the topographic or satellite view of my proposed "scenic" route. At the very least, the section riding on "Oak Ridge Road" should have tipped me.

As I led my motorcycle buddies off the Interstate, we started climbing into the New Jersey mountains, well, if not mountains, at least foothills. My GPS said we topped out near 800 feet in elevation, not all that much. Then again, we started at sea level.

Oak Ridge Road really does run on a ridge, or up on the western side of a ridge. It was scenic, but as we passed a bank, it informed us we were back down to 17 degrees. Another one warned of minus nine degrees, but that was Celsius; that's15.8 degrees Fahrenheit.

Scenery did not disappoint. We rode past some beautiful lakes and reservoirs, along steep rock falls and even had some twisty roads for one little bit. It was a nice break from the Interstates.

Another reason I should have taken a closer look is that maniac turn from Route 15 onto Route 181. You no sooner exit then cut back, almost like you're getting back onto 15. The GPS shows this curly-que which is technically accurate by mind boggling. More than a few times, we've missed or nearly missed this turn.

Fortunately Captain was on his p's and q's and made the tight right flawlessly. Me, I was trying to signal and wave with one hand, push the bars out with the other, coordinate brake and throttle. I went way wide, but I made her all the same. It musta' looked ugly in the back of our pack, but I received no disparaging comments.

Only after settling into Route 181 did I remember, "Oh yeah. That #$@*& turn gets us every time." I believe on past rides it has engendered a few U-turns.

Slower speeds of scenic secondary roads did little to alleviate my tingling-cold fingers. My Gerbing gloves are fine, up to a point. But for my long, skinny fingers, they just don't make it at these temperatures, even inside hippo hands. I should have known better. So for the ride back I switched to my down mountaineering mittens from NorthFace with a chemical heat pack in the end of each. Those are almost too hot. Almost.

Our Grand Tour hosts received their new shipment of this year's rockers. All of us on this ride have already earned the red rocker. Captain, of course, received red and gold. He is eligible for his 60-point pin too, but our flight leaders did not have them yet.

Wearhouse Grill had a special Polar Bear menu that included onion soup in a crock and chicken noodle. At first John J. ordered the chicken. But when most all the rest of us ordered onion, he caved to the peer pressure. Captain stood fast, however, when his turn to order came and resolutely ordered the chicken noodle. Maybe he knew something we did not.

As it turned out, they brought his chicken noodle right away. For the rest of us our soup came after our entrees. The soup hit the spot on such a cold day.

We missed Grumpy. He is back on night shift at his job keeping all our cables full of television shows. Fonz took over most of the photo duties. Anticipating Grumpy's absence, I packed my tripod and took the group shot. To see a version of this blog with more pictures, follow this link: http://www.influentialcom.com/polar_bear_blog.htm

Pogy surprised me by saying that this Blogspot blog was the only one he knew. He got a new computer and I e-mailed him links to save to favorites on his new browser. Guess he'll have to do some back reading. Several seasons of motorcycle polar bear blogs are posted on this other site.

Generally I post here on Blogspot first because it is easier to access from anywhere. I am also experimenting with SEO for both my blogs. The other blog site is on my former company web site. There I have more control, and room for all the photos I wish to post. I generally also use Photoshop to size and sometimes crop or adjust the photos. And that program is only on my home computer. Blogspot I can use from my small laptop or tablet.

My Blogspot blog also allows comments, but my readers rarely do.

Eventually, I will have to upgrade my company web site. New web management tools will offer much of the same functionality. All I have to do is learn a whole new program. But hey, we all know what that is like. This technology treadmill never ends.

Polar Bear Blog Sugar Loaf, N.Y. Nov. 20

By: Chris Loynd

When I saw Polar Bear Grand Poohbah Bob Hartpence in very nearby Sugar Loaf' N.Y., he joked that maybe this ride wasn't even worth the Connecticut bears getting out of bed. I told him we were experiencing Polar Bearing as our New Jersey brethren do.

This Sunday's destination was so close we only earned a single mileage point. Heck, we usually achieve one point just getting out of state.

A few of our members flirted, albeit briefly, with a point stretch. We even racked up a few extra miles thanks to a closed road around which Token, our ride leader, had to detour.

Grumpy and Mac, start deeper in Connecticut than most of us. Those two did pick up the extra point. But we dissuaded the others with peer pressure. Most of us accurately recorded between 160 and 180 roundtrip miles.

Token lives close to this Sunday's destination and so promised us a scenic ride. He led us over parkways and through state parks. The afore mentioned closed road caused him a bit of consternation, most dramatically represented with not one but two circuits of a traffic roundabout.

Slavish following of his GPS also caused him to head back into town after a Dolly-mandated early gas stop. We dutifully followed Token through every U-turn.

The only time in the ride where we did break formation on Sunday was in the Barn Sider Tavern parking lot. Even though we arrived before 11:30 sign-in, the lot was already full. Token threaded his way back around to the street and found a good spot we could all share. Being his wingman, I was right there with him. But when we went to back our bikes into our spots we discovered only Token and I remained.

The rest of our guys decided to block in some other bikes in the parking lot. The bike-bound riders soon saw the Connecticut plates and coming into the restaurant went straight to the Captain. It's the hat, John. The offenders went back outside to move their bikes, releasing the other riders.

To his credit, Token did find plenty of twisties for us to ride. His was a welcome respite from our typical Interstate expressway dominated Polar Bear motorcycling.

Unfortunately the distances we typically travel, and the Captain's flag, generally mandate faster and more direct routes than the luxury we rode Sunday.

The Captain has a new American flag flying on a pole at his house and was very concerned about striking his colors before sunset. A light fixture is on order and hopefully arrives and is installed before Montgomeryville. There's no way we get back from there before sundown.

Our Connecticut Polar Bear ranks continue to swell. We picked up two new riders on this trip.

Dolly is Fonz's wife. Not exactly new to the Polar Bears, she rode with us as a passenger last year on the back of Fonz's Harley. Sunday she was at the helm of her Honda Shadow.

Fonz had bought Dolly one of this season's spiffy new red Polar Bear Grand Tour shirts. But he said she could not wear it until she actually rode with the Bears.

Fortunately Sunday's ride was not at all bearish. With our shortest distance of the season and temperatures nearing 60, it was a perfect ride for cubs.

I think Dolly found it to be quite enough. At our end of day coffee stop Dolly asked me, "What does it mean when you start seeing things?"

"Seeing what?" I asked.

"You know, like two roads," she replied.

"I think it means you drop out of the group," I said. Geeze, she rode behind me most of the day. I kept a keen eye on my rearview mirrors the rest of the ride.

Bill also joined us Sunday. He has a New Jersey Polar Bear friend but lives in Ridgefield. Perusing the Polar Bear Grand Tour site, www.PolarBearGrandTour.com, Bill found the Connecticut contingent's blog on the Grand Tour's "Members' Homepages" page and contacted me.

We liked Bill almost immediately, well right after lunch for sure. Bill picked up the whole lunch tab, for all of us! I sought him out later and assured him there are no initiation rites, nor secret conclave votes, to be a member of the Connecticut Bears. You pretty much need only to show up on a motorcycle. Buying lunch for everyone is certainly not a requirement.

Oh, if you desire the coveted Connecticut patch, you must firsf earn the Grand Tour patch. But so far we have rejected no one from just tagging along on our rides.

There is also the Connecticut Polar Bear pledge. And I forgot to administer it to Dolly or Bill. It's very simple, raise your right hand and repeat after me, "I am responsible for my own safety."

That's it!

Sort of like parachuting, the real challenge is not in getting someone to join us for the first ride; we won't really know if Dolly or Bill likes us until she or he show up for a second ride.

Meanwhile Dolly and Bill are immortalized in the Polar Bear Motorcycle Blog. And not everyone can say that.