Hop to Hooters

Connecticut Polar Bears upon arrival in Wayne, N.J., from left: Amber, CT Blogger, Grumpy, Thumper and Captain. Not shown, Anonymous Ed. Photo by Bernie Walsh.

Polar Bear Motorcycle Blog, Polar Bear Grand Tour, ride to Hooters, Wayne, NJ, February 10, 2019.

By: Chris Loynd
Photos by: Grumpy and Bernie Walsh

Wayne, N.J., is one of our closest destinations. For me it's 80-some miles. So we were able to set a reasonable, for me comfortable, departure time. In deference to my fellow Connecticut Bears, I even evoked our EDP (Early Departure Protocol). In so doing we arrived five minutes after the place opened.

Despite being one of the first tables to be seated, it still took an hour to get our food. I'm not sure why. The place was not packed full, even in an hour when our food arrived.

Grumpy led a smooth, speed-controlled ride. We stayed up and out of traffic, taking the Tappan Zee to the Garden State Parkway and then Route 80 west.

I was the sweep rider only by default of my late arrival. Usually I try to arrive just a little bit before the departure time. I just can't see taking off all those layers to hang out at the departure Dunkin' for half and hour and then put them all back on again.

Captain, he shows up an hour early, has coffee, sometimes breakfast, holds court with the Connecticut Bears as they arrive.

Sometimes I cut the timing a bit too close. Somehow, even after 16 years of riding Polar Bears, I forget just how long it takes to suit up. In these cases I have a fall-back trick. Instead of riding the back roads to our departure point, I jump onto the expressway, ride one exit, and get off again. From this vantage point I can generally see if our guys have left or not. They greatly value punctuality.

If they're not in sight, I approach the Dunkin' departure headed toward our riders on the route they have to travel. This Sunday, they were just pulling out. I made a U-turn and dropped in at the back, i.e., defacto sweep.

At Hooters they made fun of me. I said something about being surprised about the riders and route. They made some quip about me missing the pre-ride meeting.

I was delighted to see Thumper lined up with our riders. His moniker comes from the single-cylinder motorcycle he rides. He was one of my motorcycle students in the Connecticut Rider Education Program. I always tell the students about Polar Bears. Most look at me like I'm nuts. An occasional brave soul shows up.

Token2 also came from the CT motorcycle program, although I was not one of his Rider Coaches. He's currently in Ecuador on a motorcycle adventure trip by himself. You can follow his adventures on his blog: Going South on El Burro.

Thumper was especially dedicated. He now lives in New Jersey, about 10 minutes from this Sunday's destination. He got up early and rode to Connecticut so he could group ride with us back to his home. It was great catching up with him.

We had a second visitor on her first Polar Bear ride. Anonymous Ed was waiting for us at the Darien Rest Stop with his friend Amber on back. She said she had a good time, and the CT boys were on their best behavior. (Amazing how a female does that.) We hope to see her again. Amber is interested in learning to ride her own bike. So we may see her next season riding her own bike along with us.

Our ride back was without incident. Captain lobbied for a trip over the GW Bridge. I was in no hurry and more than happy to retrace our steps over the Tappan Zee. The overall vote was for the Zee and we went back that way.

Grumpy and I split off to take the Merritt home. Captain, Ed and Amber took I-95.

This week's destination is just some 25 miles beyond Wayne, also just off of Route 80 west. For me it tips the odometer just over 100 miles each way, so I'll pick up that extra Polar Bear point. I earned my red rocker on this run. I hope for gold.

One of Polar Bear Chairman Bob's favorite destinations. That's our waitress Lala on the far right.

Bob and Amber.

Heading home. In the foreground Amber and Anonymous Ed. I the background left, Chris, and right, Paul.

Ride's a Hoot!

CT Bears at Hooters, from left, Grumpy, Anonymous Ed, Pogy and Captain.

Motorcycle Polar Bear Blog, Polar Bear Grand Tour, ride to Hooters, Wayne, NJ, February 25, 2018.

By Pogy:

This was a short ride – Departed at 1000 from Stratford, picked me up at 1020 – Ed was lead, me in the middle and the Captain sweep with Grumpy, yes Grumpy in his new Ford pickup behind us all – ride was rainy all the way but little traffic – besides Ed and I both missing the exits and the Captain having to come to our rescue, we arrived a 1120 – Of course we had to listen to the Captain mouthing off of how without him, we Bla, Bla, Bla - !&^%$###%&*())__+ - we still love him

Had lunch, Grumpy took some pictures and we were back on the road heading home with the Captain in the lead – 

Good ride, good harassment and lots of love

Thanks for Lunch Grumpy

I ordered the Star Tron - 

See yawl next week and ride safe

Pog

Editor's Note: Grumpy is back, at first restricted to his truck, but soon on two-wheels. He has his sights on that anniversary rocker and a plan to earn one. Meanwhile, we have more photos again for the blog.

The last two photos courtesy of Polar Bear Photographer Bernie Walsh.

Mea Pie

CT Bears at Hooters, back row, from left: CT Blogger, Captain, John J.,. Scott, Mac; front row from left: Grumpy, Pogy, Token2.

Motorcycle Polar Bear Blog, Polar Bear Grand Tour, ride to Wayne, NJ, February 26, 2017

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

Dear readers, at least once a season my fellow Connecticut Polar Bears suggest, sometimes strongly, the slings and arrows of this blog be also directed at its author. So every now and again I write a mea culpa and eat some humble pie. This week seems appropriate.

Fonz will be pleased to know his fellow bears rallied to his defense in his absence. Fonz was on vacation with his wife Dolly, riding rented Harleys from Las Vegas to California.

This Sunday I am accused of alternate facts and fake news. Token2 made an amazing confession at lunch. Pogy's back. Our favorite 100-year-old Polar Bear made an appearance. And we were at Hooters. Oh, and yes, I made a mess of those pre-Hooters twists and turns with which I challenged Fonz in last week's missive.

Wayne, N.J. is one of the Connecticut Bears' rare sub-one-hundred-mile rides. For most of us, Mac always being the mileage exception, our round trip distance won't break 200. We earn just three points. On the other hand, the variety of a short ride now and again is not all bad.

A leisurely 10 a.m. start time is rare for us. I even showed up to the departure point early . . . and that may have been a mistake. Usually I arrive just as my fellow riders are lining up read to go. But the later departure made me antsy. So I rode over with a whole 10 minutes to spare.

Much of that 10 minutes was spent poking holes in last week's blog. It was Token2 who actually blocked traffic when Anonymous Ed missed the turn at the fork. Grumpy was first to abdicate, not Fonz. Numerous other errors and omissions were pointed out to me by my critics. Then they accused me of fake news and alternate facts.

My reply is simple. I never made any such promises of facts and accuracy in the first place. I am not about to let the facts get in the way of a good narrative. And I'm pretty sure Fonz can take the criticism, however unfair.

When I hosted the blog on my website I offered this permanently placed disclaimer:

Please keep in mind I sometimes exaggerate here in an attempt at humor. I make no promises for the veracity of any statements. No warranty is expressed or implied. Your mileage may vary. Void where prohibited. Past blog performance does not guarantee future blog results.

Read this blog with a very big grain of salt. (And discount anything Russ Curtis tells you by at least 30 percent!)

I do understand the righteous indignation of my fellow riders. Each of them has been victimized by me in this blog at one time or another, rarely even rightly so. This week, with me arriving early, they turned on me. The upshot was challenging me to lead the ride. Of course I said yes. Of course I regretted it.

Perhaps frustrated by the short mileage, Token2 rode all the way north to Stratford from his Ridgefield hinterlands only to ride south again as we headed for Jersey. Typically we pick him up somewhere near the intersection of I-287 and the Hutchinson Parkway.

So we were seven in number departing the Stratford Dunkin' Donuts.

Prescient of the danger, I studied the route and map this morning whilst breakfasting. As leader I suggested we take the parkways to the George Washington Bridge then proceed straight out Route 80. This was immediately met with a disgusted look by Grumpy, verbal protestations and his favorite hand gesture. Feeling the heat over the blog already, I gladly switched my route to Tappan Zee.

We picked up Pogy and Scott at the Darien rest stop and were now nine.

Pogy's back riding with us after missing most of the season for personal reasons. Pogy actually taught me to ride. Then we saw a lot of each other at the now defunct Bridgeport Harley-Davidson dealership. Pogy eventually talked me into becoming an instructor; now he and I teach motorcycle riding together for the Connecticut Rider Education Program. It took me years, literally, to talk him into giving the Polar Bear rides a chance. Now he's addicted.

Scott called me, as he always does, Sunday morning of the ride to tell me to look for him at the rest stop. Temperatures were about 20 degrees less than last week when Scott famously rode in a tee-shirt, fleece vest and windbreaker. This week, Scott told me he was going to break out his electric jacket. At Hooters I learned he dusted off his gear and suited up but then, when he started the bike and plugged in his jacket, the heat controller started smoking. Yikes! He toughed it out . . . without electrical warmth. Fortunately the ride home was a bit warmer still.

I would not have made it. On one ride some years ago Token2's electric gear thermostat quit working. Fortunately we were at Montgomeryville Cycle Center and he was able to buy another. Since that day, I keep a second thermostat packed on my bike . . . just in case.

Nine is an awkward number of bikes in line. Not quite enough machines to break into two independent groups, it is a heck of a long line to do things like change lanes and exit interstate highways.

John J. was sweep. I found out at lunch his nickname is "Scoop." Some of us choose our own nicknames, others have nicknames thrust upon them. He shall be Scoop from now on, at least in this humble blog.

Scoop did a great job blocking lanes. Anonymous Ed (who had his nickname thrust upon him) offered his services as a sort of middle sweep, holding a lane open so those trailing could come up and squeeze in. We had cars in our line here and there and one real jerk who rode up on the left at the approach to the Tappan Zee Bridge. Despite more than a mile of warnings punctuated by big flashing arrows that the left lane is disappearing, he still came shooting up on our left at the last minute.

I cut my guys short trying to get over for the exit from I-287 to Route 80. There was a bit of a scramble, but we exited with just one car in our midst. Route 80 was worse, always is. But that wasn't the worst of it. Next came that loopy Route 23 exit with which I challenged Fonz. Only this time, I was the one being challenged.

My decision making and navigation skills came up short.

Signs appeared too fast. GPS was trying to keep up. I slowed the line of bikes. Still, at the last minute, I chose wrong, putting us onto a "service road" rather than Route 23. Captain was holding back, but to his credit he stuck with me this time. Fortunately my Garmin figured it out pretty fast. We went only a short ways, looped up and over and back around and soon were on Route 23 headed south to our final destination. Curses! Foiled again!

Grumpy was thrilled. My unexpected detour tipped him over the 100 mile mark, just. He claimed his two mileage points while most of us got only one.

At lunch Pogy made a presentation to Token2. If you're a blog follower you will recall Token2 had a bit of trouble with his Moto Guzzi a couple of rides back. The upshot was he had to ride in the passenger seat of Grumpy's bike to get home. The next day Grumpy went back to the destination with his pickup truck to retrieve Token2's bike. This is the second time Grumpy has rescued Token2. Grumpy's heart is bigger than his nickname would have you believe.

I will let the photo do the talking. Token2 didn't just hold up his shirt for a photo, he put it on and promised to wear it with pride.

(For any blog reader unaware of biker lore, the passenger seat on a motorcycle is generally occupied by the rider's girlfriend, wife, female significant other. Some bikers use a derogatory name for females to describe that seat. My apologies to anyone offended. Sorry, Mom. It's not what I call it.)

Lunch at Hooters is always, well, a hoot. Token2 got a table for us and we expanded it still. He also secured the Hooters girl with the biggest, uh, enthusiasm in the place. Cierra did a great job. Scott asked what was good on the menu. Token2 replied, "Everything's fried, so that's a good start." Even so, he and Captain had salads. More in the spirit, Grumpy ordered fried pickles for the table to share.

Service was a bit slow. However Polar Bear Chairman Bob told us that would maybe change for next year. For all the years the Polar Bear Grand Tour has been coming to the Wayne, N.J. Hooters, this was the first year the store owner came to see what we were about. Previous years only the manager attended.

Once he understood the Polar Bear challenge, and perhaps the money to be made, he was receptive to Bob's suggestion they present a special, and limited, Polar Bear menu. We're easy. Limiting choices speeds the kitchen and I would guess makes their job a lot easier too. Many of our destinations now offer a special menu, which I've lauded in earlier blog posts. We'll see what Hooters decides next year.

We were pleased to see Leo Chlebinkow walk into Hooters. He was using a walker, but lucid and bright and the assembled bears treated him like a rock star, taking pictures with him, shaking his hand, talking to him. Leo looked like he was enjoying every minute. February 23 was Leo's 101st birthday. I shared a biography of Leo last year.  CLICK HERE to read, or reread his 100-year story, which involved motorcycles nearly from the beginning. Until just a few years ago, Leo was riding on a trike to our meets. Before that he was on two wheels well into his nineties. Today a friend brought him in a car.

Yes, yes he is.

Anonymous Ed remains . . . anonymous.

Guest Post from Scoop

Approaching home our group split in half on I-287. One set exited to the Merritt Parkway for the ride home through our home state. I led the second group up I-95. Our interstate ride was a bit congested, but apparently not nearly so exciting as the Merritt Parkway group's ride. Here is Scoop's report:

By John J., a.k.a. Scoop

I don’t know how the remainder of your ride went on Sunday from 287 to 95, but our ride back on the Hutch and Merritt Parkways was more a battle than a ride, at least as my view from the back.

 Let me start by saying “No one was injured during this skirmish”. That’s more like it, it was a “Skirmish” of sorts. Mac (Speedy) led, with Grumpy in the middle, I keeping Sweep position.

As we entered the Hutch we had to battle for position to get heading towards the Merritt, as usual, traffic was dense, so we found a spot in the left lane and wound up behind a Crossover doing 60 mph just because it could. Mac held lead just behind his rear bumper, until it pulled over to the right lane just before the rest area on the CT/NY line. As the Crossover pulled over, it decided to increase speed (as those kind of drivers so often do) but Mac drove us by at a goodly clip.

Traffic on the Merritt can be thick and clumpy on Sunday afternoons (as you well know) and Mac was soon on the back bumper of another slowpoke who was afraid of corners it seemed, as it would slow down to 55 mph at every curve on that beautifully curvy section we all know and love. This slowpoke finally pulled to the right lane and we got by it only to be plagued by the very same vehicle all the way to when I pulled off onto the Milford Connector! This a**hole was constantly trying to pass us on the right all the way home! We were doing as I said before a goodly clip in a lot of spots, but were hampered by the speed of the vehicle in front of Sir Speedy most of the time, and in those areas, the Crossover wanted to be in front of our little motorcycle train at any cost.

At one point the Crossover driver actually cut in between Mac and Grumpy, creating a space where there was none. This created an opportunity for Grumpy to have a rather lengthy conversation with the Crossover driver while riding alongside it! I think if Grumpy had had a grenade, or something of that nature, the Crossover would have crossed over into the other dimension of non-existence. I felt like I was watching a Chess match gone horribly wrong. Mac constantly protecting our position from an enemy charging up from our blind spot trying to steal our hard fought territory, adrenaline running high, gasoline fumes permeating the air as throttles open and close! Man! I though the ride down watching the end of a 9 bike train was exciting! That was nothing compared to this!

I hope your ride was less eventful. Anyway, we all (I assume) made it home in one piece, and I had a wonderful single malt Glenfiddich when I got home. So much for a leisure ride home!

Crazy Cold

Wayne Bears, from left: Captain, CT Blogger, Pogy, Princess, Ed, Token2.
It was so cold, we took the group photo inside.

Motorcycle Polar Bear Blog, ride to Hooters, Wayne, NJ, February 14, 2016.

By Chris Loynd:

Oh yes we did! Temperature was minus five degrees Fahrenheit when I started out Sunday. It warmed to positive eight when I returned home.

My 19-year-old, 1997, Honda ST1100 is carbureted with a choke. It sits in an unheated garage. It can be a challenge to start on a regular cold day.

I went into the garage early Sunday morning. As close as I could position it next to the parked bike, without actually touching the plastic, I placed an oil-filled electric heater turned up as high as it allows. Directly underneath the bike I positioned a 100 watt light bulb. Over top it all I jury-rigged a blanket to try and concentrate the heat.

My garage is thin walled, only wooden siding on studs. There are lots of cracks and an old fashioned, open copula sits atop the roof. The wind was blowing. There was no way I was going to warm up the garage. My hope was to soften the bike's oil just enough to get it started so internal combustion could do the rest.

When it was time to go, the bike started but would not run. I have a fairly new battery, and it on a trickle charger. So I cranked it and rested, cranked and rested. On the fourth try the old girl decided I was serious about riding. She stumbled for a bit but then settled into her choke-induced fast idle. White smoke poured out of the twin exhausts. I waited, and waited, and waited for the temperature gauge to move off of dead cold.

Just as I was ready to go, I gave my wife Cynthia a quick kiss and then she went and gave voice to my deepest, unsaid fear, "You'll be warm unless you break down." Dang! I hope she didn't jinx me. Fortunately I give no sway to superstition.

What she said is true, all the same. My comfort was solely dependent upon copious amounts of electricity, funneled through a thermostat and interspersed through micro wires embedded in my specialized clothing. If the engine does not run, the alternator does not turn, and I get very cold very fast.

Fortunately, Ishiro Honda knew his stuff and his successors build a quality product. Once the bike warmed it ran just fine. She started right up at Hooters for the ride home. There were a few temperature related effects. Secondary lubricants were challenged by the cold. I had cruise control! The throttle would simply stick in whatever position I left it. Oh, it was easy enough to twist it off and on, no worries. But it didn't snap back when I let go.

My turn signals were similarly challenged. To cancel I have to push the button in. It did not want to go. I ended up re-centering the switch instead. Minor complaints, really.

As my motorcycle and its oversize alternator pumped electrons into my clothing, I can't say enough about my Warm & Safe heated clothes. This is the first year, in 14 years of riding Polar Bear, that I've splurged on the whole set. My electric jacket, pants and socks pumped out enough heat that I never cranked the thermostat to full power. I tried. I was afraid of burning the tops of my feet.

My heated gloves were not up to the challenge on their own. I kept flexing my fingers to get the warmer blood from other parts of my body to circulate through them. I tightened and relaxed my thigh and stomach muscles and it helped enough to get me to the destination. For the ride home I put on my hippo hands and now protected from the wind my hands were more than warm enough.

When we arrived at Hooters there was frost on the inside of my face shield and ice clumps in my mustache.

Princess was so cold, she just parked her bike diagonally across a couple of spaces. She was too cold to paddle walk it into any better a configuration. She headed inside still layered to the max. Shoot, we thought she was going to eat lunch still wearing her helmet. Princess was walking around Hooters in her layers, jacket still zipped full up, helmet still on, a dramatic contrast to the waitresses running around in tank tops and short shorts.

When she finally warmed a bit, she took off her full face helmet, donned her tiara and surprised us all with a Valentine's gift.

Princess rode with an electric jacket and lots of layers. Captain still toughs it out with no electric clothes. However his Goldwing has heated grips and a heated seat. Ed's Harley has heated grips and he said they made enough difference in supplementing his heated gloves. I may have to consider an upgrade.

Token2 met us as we pulled into the Hooters parking lot. This destination is about equidistant from his home to the Hutch bus stop where he usually joins us en route. He rode back with us.

We rode back as we usually do up the Garden State Parkway and over the Tappan Zee Bridge. We decided not to stop at the top for a coffee. For me, the idea of taking off all those layers wasn't worth taking a break on such a short ride. Atypically, we stayed down on I-95 in Connecticut instead of the Merritt Parkway. We hoped to catch a degree or two of warmth from Long Island Sound.

Layers, lots of layers. Captain and Princess ready to ride home.

Well it was warm inside for Polar Bear Grand Tour Grand Pooh Bah Bob.

South Wayne, NJ, February 19, 2012, Polar Bear Motorcycle Blog

South Wayne, NJ, February 19, 2012, Polar Bear Motorcycle Blog

By: Chris Loynd

Hooters!

Hooters is our shortest ride in the Polar Bear schedule. Most of us only get one mileage point. However this year we managed to stretch it into one of the longest rides – in terms of time.

There was a Harley-Davidson ad a few years back that said, “No great story ever started with, 'I was sitting on the couch when . . .'.”

Captain has had his share of adventure on a motorcycle. Fortunately he overcomes most every adversity with a well stocked kit. He is a consummate Boy Scout, though I don't know if he ever was one. Captain is always prepared.

He reminds me of the pilot Orr in Joseph Heller's “Catch-22.” Orr keeps crashing. Each time his plane is shot down he makes a water landing and comes popping out of the plane fully prepared for any emergency with his little yellow life vest and paddling around in his tiny, inflatable life raft. (For all I know, Captain carries a tiny, inflatable life raft on his bike.)

So when his tire went down on our ride last Sunday, Captain snapped into action, pumping it up with the compact, portable, 12 volt, air pump he always carries in his bike's saddlebags.

Captain was sweeping and we were alerted to his plight only when his buddy rider Token2 eventually noticed Captain was no longer in his rear view mirrors and came riding up to alert the leader. (I'm not sure who was riding ahead of Token2, but that is the rider who should have alerted us when Token2 dropped back with Captain to see if assistance was required.)

Mac, leading his first Polar Bear ride, was oblivious. But in his defense, we do tend to get strung apart a bit when we merge from one highway to another. And there were a lot of bikes, well okay just eight, to keep track of.

While Token2 was up front shouting at Mac through a full face helmet, a car pulled up and matched speed with me. I was in the third position, which made me the second left-side rider after Mac. We were in the right-hand travel lane. This guy in the car was gesturing in great earnest. I had not a clue as to what he was trying to say. I soon found out.

Token2 now in the lead, pulled us off at the northernmost rest area at the top of the Garden State Parkway (GSP). He knew only that he had lost sight of Captain as we merged.

Before anyone launched a heroic rescue effort, I got Captain on his cell phone and he told me he had lost pressure in his rear tire on the on-ramp to the GSP from I-287. He was hoping to pump enough air into the tire to reach us. It takes some time. Those little pumps are slow. Waiting seems even slower.

Token2, perhaps feeling guilty about abandoning Captain, hesitated a bit then decided to ride back to see if he could help. This would require him to ride through quite a few miles of northern New Jersey and southern New York. Captain arrived at the rest stop long before Token2 reemerged from his fruitless reconnoiter.

When he arrived at the rest stop where we were waiting, I crawled on my hands and knees behind Captain's bike as he slowly pulled forward, trying to see if there was a nail or screw or other obvious problem with the tire. We went quite a ways through the parking lot, me on all fours like a dog sniffing Captain's rear tire. I could not find anything. Only when we arrived at Hooters did Captain reveal he had a center stand, you know, the kind that allows the back tire to spin freely while the bike remains conveniently stationary?

Captain next pulled out his tube of Slime flat repair and used the gas station's air to pump his tire back to life again.

It seemed longer. And nobody looked at their watch when we pulled over. But the whole delay was maybe 30 or 40 minutes. We headed to Hooters.

Unfortunately, the Slime did not perform as advertised. So in the parking lot of our destination, Jim-O, yet another apparent Boy Scout, brought out a tire plugging kit.

These are good guys with which to ride! It seems everybody but me had a can of slime and air pump. Jim-O had a complete tire plugging kit, one especially made for motorcycles nonetheless.

I remember when I bought my bike. I asked my friend and Dealership General Manager Domenic Maturo what tools I should carry on my Harley-Davidson. Dom looked at me, smiled, and said, “You?” and then held up his cell phone, “This is all you need.”

In fact I do have some tools tucked away in my saddlebags. But I don't much know how to use them. And there are a few emergency supplies too, mostly centered around my survival as I wait for help to come after I've called on my cell phone.

And in my own defense, I have tube tires. So if one goes flat, well, there's no way I'm carrying tire irons and a patch kit or spare tube. Besides, I would not have the first, faintest idea of how to get the wheels on and off this machine with its springer front end and the drive belt on the rear.

Captain tediously pumped his tire back to life in the Hooters parking lot. We patiently waited.

Then we were headed home.

Mac, also a Navy man, gave no quarter. Me, I maybe would have tried to limp the bike home. Mac blasted up the GSP at speed and Captain kept up . . . for a little while.

Fonz said you could see smoke out of both sides of Captain's rear tire when it blew.

Captain never heard the explosion. He just felt the wobble. But it must have been a big boom. Because when Captain went to guide his crippled bike from the far left passing lane to the far right shoulder, across four travel lanes, he found them all empty. All the cars had come to a dead stop behind him. Fonz and Jim-O had blocked the lanes too.

Captain never lost his balance. He expertly guided the bike to the shoulder. This time Fonz, Jim-O and Token2 stayed with him. (In fact I wonder if Token2 followed the tow truck all the way back to Milford.)

I did not see it happen. Three other bikes and I were trying to keep up with Mac at the head of the pack. So I cannot say for sure how Captain reacted to calamity.

I bet he was nonplussed.

My point of reference comes from when Captain blew up his Harley-Davidson motor on a Polar Bear ride last season. I stayed with him until the tow truck arrived and then followed them home. Captain took it all in stride and with good humor.

Then there is the story of Captain on a summer ride across the country a few years back, where his engine blew up and he had the bike shipped home, completing his trip by bus and then flying back from the West Coast after completing his vacation. He describes it all as a fun adventure.

Hooters was good to the eyes and stomachs, not so much the service. I was left waiting for my food, last one at our table. We tried to recall who it was that befell the fickle finger of fate two years ago. We voted that it was Russ whose order was forgotten. Well they don't hire the wait staff based upon an I.Q. test, and who can protest?

My chicken sandwich arrived just as my compatriots were finishing their meals. As my fellow Bears can tell you, I am a slow eater. So it turned out I contributed, in my own small way, to making our shortest mileage Polar Bear run of the season into the longest in time.