Longest Ride -- Lewes, Delaware

Week 2 Bears, from left: Long Distance Diva, Pogy, Captain and CT Blogger.

Motorcycle Polar Bear Blog, Ride to Irish Eyes Pub, Lewes, Del., Sunday, November 1, 2015.

By: Chris Loynd

You know you're a motorcyclist, a rider, when you ride about 550 miles, over 11 1/2 hours, for a one-hour lunch. That's how four of us spent our Sunday on the first day of November when daylight turned to standard time and gave us an extra hour.

Angling for less riding time after the earlier EST sunset, Pogy asked us to experiment with a half-hour earlier start. So we were off at 6:30 a.m. Yes, 6:30 a.m. In Pogy parlance: 06:30.

Fortunately I saw Joanna's e-mail Saturday afternoon. She was planning to be at the pickup spot at 8:00 a.m. We corresponded a bit and I ratcheted her back to 7 a.m.

With Token2 back in the old country, I got my chance to lead. It was an easy task with just four riders. We cranked, yes cranked, the NJ Turnpike start to finish.

I had planned to stop at the last rest stop, but Joanna signaled me so we stopped at the penultimate one. To pull the group over at the next rest stop we usually simply ride up next to the lead and tap our hand on the top of our helmet. But Joanna's from the city. She told me later in her hood that's the sign for cops.

So not knowing our custom she offered a more expressive signal. It wasn't just the pointing, it was the urgent little happy hoppy dance she offered in her saddle. As a parent I immediately got the message. I remember my kids doing that potty dance when they were two years old. It's the cutest thing riding with women.

We were all teasing her at the earlier-than-planned stop because her Harley windshield is covered with stickers she claims to have earned from Michael Kneebone.

This was the longest ride I've done on the ST1100. We've been getting to know each other. And I think we're close to coming to an understanding for long distance touring. I have a small Airhawk just under my butt where the seat scoops a bit then steps up for the passenger. With the blades on my engine guards I can get my too-long legs out a bit now and then. The bike is nearly right for 100-plus mile stints.

A previous owner installed Heli Bars. They appear eminently adjustable, but I don't know how. Pogy offered to help. And I think if I can get the grips just a bit closer to me it will be perfect.

I was truly amazed at how it sipped gas, even at speed. When my compatriots on Gold Wings were near empty, my tank was still half full. Average mileage reported on Fuelly is above 42 mpg for my 1997.  I can't be bothered to keep track. But with a 7.4 gallon tank the supposed 300 mile range per tank seems believable. That means I could make the 1,000 mile run to Daytona Beach with just four fill-ups, easy.

Hmmm, I may have to think about following in Joanna's tracks and do some long distance hauls next summer.

LD Diva was so busy kibitizing, she nearly missed lunch.

Pogy loves the camera!

Season Debut 2015

Inaugural season CT Bears, from left: Joanna, Token2, CT Blogger, Captain, Pogy, Mac.

Motorcycle Polar Bear Blog. Ride to VFW, Cape May, NJ. Sunday, October 25, 2015.

By: Chris Loynd

Our first ride of the 2015-16 season dawned drearily, dusked dramatically.

We started from Stratford in full rain gear at 8:00 a.m. The sun had been up for 45 minutes, but you couldn't prove it by us. Perhaps the drizzle kept some bears at home, warm in their dens. Grumpy drove down to Dunkin' to see us off. He'll be out a few weeks for carpel tunnel surgery, his clutch hand in a cast.

Captain, Mac and I were the only riders starting from Stratford. I had an idea to lead, but before I got the words out, Captain informed me he was taking the lead and then passing it to Token2. Token2 wanted to lead because he'll soon miss a month of rides due to business obligations. I guess he's sentimental.

We picked up Pogy in Darien on the way down. I now had a mind to sweep, but Pogy assumed that role, waving me in front of him. So I was stuck in the rockin' chair all the way down.

Token2 was waiting at the bus stop where we jump onto the Hutchinson Parkway. Joanna wasn't. We had traded e-mails earlier in the week and she planned to be at the bus stop at 8:30. It was 8:38 and our bears wait for no rider. With Captain twirling his finger in the air and Token2 scrambling to get his butt on his bike and his electrics plugged in, we roared off for the Hutch.

Joanna did join us, Clark Makinson style. Like a phantom rider her bright white LED headlight suddenly appeared behind us on the Hutchinson Parkway South. She later confessed to seeing us go by the Hutch gas station as she was brimming her tank. She used this particular rest stop's center of the highway configuration to reverse course and catch us. She then supplanted Pogy as sweep, driving me deeper into the center of our now six riders. (If you don't get the Clark Makinson reference you can read a bit more about Clark on my other blog site here.)

We rode in and out of rain on the way down. Sometimes it drizzled. Here and there it rained real drops. Never did it downpour. I probably got wetter from the spray of Mac's bike in front of me as he wove back and forth across his lane, rather than following the already cleared car tracks. That's just how he rolls. His peripatetic style applies forward and back, as well as side-to-side. Pogy said banjo and slinky.

I'm thinking being retired may be something like being drunk. Poor lane discipline and inability to match speed are probable cause for an under-the-influence stop. Actually Mac tightened up quite a bit on the ride home after we ripped on him at lunch. But by then the pavement was dry.

Mac and I even enjoyed a couple of 100 foot drag races out of the tolls on the Garden State Parkway on the way home, another Makinson trademark.

In addition to getting coated with spray, we had the bad luck to follow a car as it was blowing its engine. Apparently the driver was oblivious to lights that must have been blinking all over his dashboard. His car was spewing clouds of black smoke, doubly so whenever he hit the gas. This guy wasn't just burning oil. This smoke was black, not blue. It tasted like valves or bearings. We rode through it for miles. Pogy noted rain rolling off his windshield turned black as we got closer then finally passed the dying automobile.

Speaking of ripping on each other, I avoided Captain's usual shtick targeting the group photographer, I'm filling in for Grumpy while he's out on medical leave. While Bear Photographer Bernard Walsh took a photo, and then Joanna had him shoot another with her cell phone, I sneakily grabbed the official shot via my 10-second timer. At lunch, Captain showed his hand by asking if and when I took the photo shown above.

A week before the ride, Pogy was worried about the photo, "Do you have a camera?" "Yeah." "Do you have a tripod? Because if you don't we could maybe go together and buy a tripod," he offered. "No worries," I answered, "I got it covered." And I did. With stealth.

Surprisingly, Pogy wasn't aware of the Grand Tour weekly photos, only the photos on my photo rich Polar Bear Blog at Influentialcom.com. Grand Tour Webmaster Walter Kern also posts a year of his favorite Polar Bear Photos on his site Motorcycle Views.

I wish I could have taken some pictures of the ride home. It was filled with Kodak moments. About halfway home clouds slowly relented, sunshine peaked and then streamed through. After a couple of gas stops and a cup of coffee at the top of the Garden State Parkway and picking our way through traffic over the Tappan Zee, we hit the Hutch nee Merritt Parkway just about sunset.

Turning for home the sky in my mirrors blazed. Thanks to Connecticut's unique geography, you go mostly east and west when traveling north and south. Behind me the sun slowly weakened. Ahead a gigantic moon rose, just two days short of full. The few clouds left in the sky went pink, and then purple. Meanwhile the pre-peak trees lining this lovely parkway glowed yellow and orange and red.

Eventually the sun set. The trees went black, silhouettes against bright moonlight. One lone and spiry pine, tall and twisty, as if drawn by Dr. Seuss.

Turnout was lighter than usual; maybe it was the rain.

Captain is sporting a new hat this season.

Our leader this week readies for the ride home.

Sun broke through the second half of our ride day.

My antique web authoring software is giving me a bit of trouble. For now, I'll post here on the Google cloud for all to enjoy. See you next week!