Car Camaraderie all the Same

Sloatsburg, um, riders, from left: Token2, Captain, Grumpy, Chris and Pogy in his familiar squat down front.

Motorcycle Polar Bear Blog, Polar Bear Grand Tour, ride . . . er, um, drive . . . to Sloatsburg, NY, January 15, 2017.

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

If you look at the date of this post's ride and the one previous, you'll see it has been a month, a whole month, since we rode. I am experiencing motorcycle withdrawal symptoms. I dream of riding, really. It was unexpectedly prescient of me to put Stabil in the gas tank after our December ride. Oh, and all the same I did not ride this past Sunday. I rode in a car, in the back.

Sloatsburg riders, Captain in the lead, Grumpy on his wing, Pogy next, Chris as sweep.

Blame the calendar for two missing Sundays in a month of missed Sundays. Christmas and New Year's holidays both fell on the week's first day, so no Polar Bear rides were scheduled. The third, breakout, Sunday was nixed by a pretty significant Saturday snow. A few brave souls made it to the Tilted Kilt, but Connecticut got more snow than New Jersey. Our road conditions were horrible. For example, Interstate 91 hosted a 25 vehicle pileup, including four tractor trailers and a tanker truck. Spinouts dotted I-95, our preferred route south. Here's a hint if you drive a SUV: 4-wheel drive does not equal 4-wheel stop. Just saying. I had a Jeep. I know. We sat this one out.

Photo borrowed from Hartford Courant website.

For various other scheduling conflicts in past years, I've not yet made it to the Tilted Kilt since this was added as a Polar Bear destination. Has it been two or three years I've missed? As you can see in the photo, I have vicarious reasons to feel regret.

Polar Bear Grand Pooh Bah Bob with two of the reasons to visit Tilted Kilt.
Oh 'come on! There's another waitress in the background.

One tough rider made it on a bike. Dude, you need to know about Salt Away, trust me. This kinda riding killed my Harley.

Okay, so that gets us to the fourth Sunday since our last ride in December. As the day approached I sent out the ride time email. Our always optimistic Cablevision weather lady was calling for a dusting, maybe an inch, of snow Saturday afternoon.

What a great profession, huh? I shoulda been a weatherman. Instead I work in marketing, which has great abilities to boost sales for every business. Only it's usually hard to prove. The direct line between seeing a billboard or TV commercial to buying a product is pretty obtuse. Clients clamor for proof, "What's the R.O.I. (return on investment)?" My feet get held to the fire all the time.

Years ago I met Jeff Fox, at the time Connecticut's premier local weather prognosticator. "You deliver conjecture with conviction better than any other TV meteorologist I've ever seen," I complimented. (From his expression, I'm not sure he took it as a complement.)

Well for this particular Sunday's ride, Saturday's predicted afternoon flurries turned into like three inches of snow. It was very cold. Snow was light and fluffy. I was out late Saturday night successfully clearing my driveway. But the road looked pretty bad. I think the extra snow caught our town by surprise.

Sunday morning side roads were still quite questionable. Grumpy cleared his ski slope driveway, but the road below was still snow covered. Captain and I discussed several possibilities, including moving the departure time back an hour to see if melting could occur. In the end we decided to drive . . . in a car. As Captain said, "I'm getting a little more cautious as I age." Me too, Cap, me too.

So why do we ride, um, er, drive?

Well one compelling reason this Sunday was the Polar Bear Grand Tour chairman offered amnesty for last Sunday's Tilted Kilt ride. If you did not show, it did not count against your perfect attendance. So showing up at Rhodes North Tavern in nearby, for us, Sloatsburg, N.Y. kept us in the running. We each got only one point for coming in a car. But our attendance was noted and registered in the Flight B book.

Probably a better reason was a chance to get together for some laughs once again. We actually enjoyed bonus laughs because we could talk to each other during the travel time, being together in a car instead of separate on our bikes, our heads inside full face helmets. (Some of the guys also suggested their wives were happy to see them out of the house after three weeks.)

Token2, our certified adventure rider, did make the trip on his bike. Uncharacteristically, he had less snow in his more northern Connecticut locale than we did down on the coast. We met him for lunch at the destination and somewhat falsely all stood in front of his bike for our weekly group photo.

We all got our red rockers this week, well except for Pogy. Most of us earned them earlier, but the Polar Bear officials had not yet received this season's coveted patches. Pogy made our first ride of the season and has not been able to ride since for personal reasons. Talk about motorcycle withdrawal! He planned to drive to this destination in any case because it is the closest for us Connecticut riders and Kathy really wanted him out of the house. So we picked him up along the way.

Conversation ranged far and wide. Some of it was motorcycle, some political, some magazine sizes, a lot was old guy talk: dwindling retirement accounts, declining health, worries about the future. I guess it's inevitable. You gotta laugh, or cry. Laughing is easier.

Some rode this Sunday, probably coming up from down south.

Grumpy gets his red rocker. (Photo by PB Photog Dave Thompson.)

Chris' red rocker with PB Chairman Bob. (Photo by PB Photog Dave Thompson.)

Lunch and laughs (Captain always looks like that when cameras come out). (Photo by PB Photog Bernie Walsh.)

Pre group photo, photo. Chris was setting camera timer. (Photo by PB Photog Bernie Walsh.)

Token2 suits up for his -- lonely -- ride home. (Photo by PB Photog Bernie Walsh.)

Red rockers earned. Captain's really is read, he's showing us the reverse side, LOL.

Red rockers earned earlier received this Sunday.

Short Run

Connecticut Bears in Sloatsburg, from left: Captain, Token2, Paul, Princess, CT Blogger and Grumpy with Pogy down front.

Motorcycle Polar Bear Blog, ride to Rhodes North Tavern, Sloatsburg, NY, December 27, 2015.

By: Chris Loynd

Sloatsburg, N.Y., is one of our closest destinations from Connecticut. In fact, it is shorter for Token2 to ride directly to the tavern than the I-287 and Hutchinson Parkway bus stop where we usually meet him. Which is what he did.

Token2 was on, as he described it, "a finger-drumming, eye rolling kitchen pass." He had to get back home fast to play host to holiday guests. It was our loss. This is Token's backyard. On past rides here he has taken us on scenic rides through Harriman State Park, and a few times 'round the roundabout.

Still, I was glad he came because he provided one of the funniest moments of the morning.

Stymied by the short distance, Princess rode from Long Island to our Stratford, Conn., start point. Paul also rode up from Norwalk to Stratford, only to turn around and head back south with the group. He lives in Norwalk, Conn., or Kalamazoo, Mich,, or both, it wasn't entirely clear.

Our Connecticut crew does not have many sub-one-hundred mile runs for the Polar Bear Grand Tour. Personally, I enjoyed the extra sleep. We left at 10:30 a.m., hours later than our usual departure times. We should have left a bit earlier; I did not allow for traffic.

Nowadays Tappan Zee traffic slows because people gawk at construction of the new bridge going up parallel to the current one. Driving home from the holidays on Saturday, I noticed the phenomenon. It was the only real jam we experienced all the way from Delaware. Today we had the same slowdown and from both directions. Additional accident rubbernecking headed west got us to the destination a bit later than planned.

Pogy did a bit of construction ogling himself. At lunch he complained there were no American flags flying from tops of any construction cranes. Usually some patriotic worker puts a flag on the pinnacle of the highest crane. At lunch we speculated the work is outsourced to the Chinese. I was guilty of a bit of construction rubbernecking myself on the ride home confirming Pogy's concern. All I saw were checkerboard orange and white aviation warning flags. Bridge commissioners, if you're listening, Pogy has a suggestion. Or all our blog readers could go on the new bridge web site and suggest they display a flag.

On the "Bridge commissioners" link above there is a tab for "contact us." There I sent the following message: "I was disappointed today to not see an American flag flying from any of your construction cranes. Typically I see the colors proudly displayed at major and minor construction sites. One so prominent as yours should show some patriotic pride."

Our late arrival was exacerbated by my lead. With Paul and his tiny thumper in the mix on this run, I decided to let him know we could accommodate most all riders. He was one of my students in the Connecticut Rider Education Program (ConnREP) classes this past summer. Pogy, John Jackson and I are instructors. I always tell my students about the Polar Bears. Token2 is a ConnREP graduate who learned about the Polar Bears from his instructor. I guess two converts in like 10 years maybe says something about our sanity.

I kept a reasonable speed achieving a comfort level that pulled Paul into our formation. On his previous trip with the Connecticut Bears, he tagged along at the back of the pack so he could "ride his own ride."

Princess was offered the lead, but settled for second bike. All I required of her was staying in position and using her mirrors to catch lane changes by the sweep when I couldn't see them. She proved a capable and precise rider, at my right hip the entire time. She rode tight.

Grumpy was next in line. He's back from medical leave. Being both short and warm, he figured this was a good opportunity to try out his new hand and healed body. He was pleased with the results.

Rhodes North Tavern is one of those wonderful Polar Bear destinations that gets us. Half their parking lot was blocked off for bikes only. A staffer was outside directing bikes for maximum packing.

Inside, lunch was wonderful. Token2 went ahead as we were delayering and Tavern staff put together a few tables for our group of seven. Our waitress was fast and efficient and never was heard a discouraging word. Our busboy brought us free scones while we waited for our orders to arrive. Princess was delighted to see a BLT first on the menu. I probably should have ordered one. It looked fabulous: ruffled lettuce, extra bacon, copious in size and penurious in price.

My steak sandwich was New York style which means slices of steak instead of the wafer-thin "Steakums" style meat we're used to in Philadelphia. Seems I've made this mistake before. That said, the sandwich was delicious, as were the sweet potato fries. I brought half home. Somebody remind me next year to order the BLT!

Grand Tour Grand Pooh-bah Bob Hartpence shared a rave review for last week's destination, The Tilted Kilt. He said management was very accommodating, the girls friendly and the food delicious. The manager asked if Bob thought it would be okay for the girls to pose on some of the bikes in the parking lot. Bob quickly assured him no bear would object! Hopefully my work schedule allows me to make the ride next year.

Getting Bob's Tilted Kilt report.

As we caught up with each others' lives, Pogy shared with us a new chapter in his elderly friend's story. And the weather being wonderful and once again unseasonably warm, he decided to stop by to see his friend who now lives near Danbury. He quizzed Token2 on the best route. And in his queries he asked Token2 if there was any difference in a particular Interstate exit for a given route East and West. Token2 immediately answered, "No . . . except that they go in opposite directions." Pogy tried to explain. Token2 defended his answer saying, "I don't know how else to answer that question." You had to be there, but it really hit my funny bone, hard!

At the Dunkin' Donuts departure.