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.

Peer Pressure and the Unappreciated Sweep

Bridgewater Bears, back row from left: John J., Captain, Fonz, Scott, Thumper and Mac.
Down front, CT Blogger and Token2.

Motorcycle Polar Bear Blog, Polar Bear Grand Tour, ride to Bridgewater, NJ, Sunday, November 13, 2016.

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

We say, "Ride your own ride." It's an important reminder to ride safely within your abilities, assiduously avoiding peer pressure, using your own best judgment. It's also an acknowledgment that each of us is responsible for his own safety.

Still, if we are to ride together, there are a few conventions that serve us all. We take advantage of having a leader who sets a good pace, chooses good lines in traffic and knows where he's going. We take advantage of a sweep who keeps us together, helps any who fall behind and clears lanes of traffic making it safer for us to merge and change lanes. In the pack we keep to a certain code and lane positioning so other riders can predict our actions, keeping the group together and tight in neat, staggered, safe formation.

Or not.

In his book Social: Why Our Brains are Wired to Connect, renowned UCLA psychologist Dr. Matthew D. Lieberman proposes we are social creatures, more than we know, hard-wired by evolution to run in packs. Based upon his brain scan research he writes, "We intuitively believe social and physical pain are radically different kinds of experiences, yet the way brains treat them suggests they are more similar than we imagine."

Supposedly bikers are tough and independent. But we love to ride in groups and join clubs.

You must have courage and a thick social skin to lead a group of bikes. Peer pressure is behind you, sometimes 10 or more deep.

For the Connecticut Polar Bears you run the extra risk of being excoriated in this blog. Sooner or later every CT Bear gets raked over these coals, including the author. Ripping on each other is part of the fun. And believe me, not all of what gets said around the lunch table or over coffee at the top of the Garden State Parkway makes it onto these digital pages.

We encourage everyone to lead a ride at least once. Not all are willing to face the potential pain.

Sunday morning my wife Cynthia asked me if I was going to lead this Sunday. This is the first ride this season where I've started from the start. The first two rides I started Sunday morning from my folks' house in Delaware. I said I might. "You don't decide ahead of time?" she asked. "No," I said, "We generally just call for volunteers."

When I offered to lead as we were gathered at our Dunkin' Donuts starting point, it turned out Captain had already goaded Token2 into taking the lead this week. "You can sweep," he offered. Ah well. Why not?

Off we went, four of us from Stratford: Captain, John J., Mac and me in last position. Captain took the lead which he planned to relinquish in New York when we picked up Token2 en route.

Fonz joined us unexpectedly as we rode past the Fairfield rest stop. I dropped back to let him into our formation ahead of me. At Darien we picked up Scott and Thumper; again I dropped back and waved them into line. Token2 was waiting for us on the shoulder of I-287 and as we passed he shot to the front, offering a perhaps imperious wave as he passed each of us. With near military precision our riders changed sides in their staggered formation as Token2 took his position in front of Captain.

We rode tight and clean right up to the Route 22 exit. I moved over to the lane for north, thinking to control it so no cars cut us off as we exited for south. That was a bad choice on my part. Token2, perhaps swayed by peer pressure, and flummoxed by sun glare on his minuscule GPS screen, followed my lead and led us off onto 22 northbound. In his defense, there was not a lot of time to make that decision.

No biggie! We rode a few hundred yards north, exited into an office park and made a u-turn,, actually two lefts, the last aided by a traffic light.

The short remainder of our ride to the Eagles was smooth and tight. As often happens, the ride home wasn't.

Maybe it's fatigue. Or there is an overwhelming sense of heading home. They say a horse always runs faster on the return trip, a warm stall and grain bag on its mind.

We were a bit disorganized going through the first set of tolls just after we entered the Garden State Parkway. Thumper and I cracked our throttles a bit and caught up to the main body.

After a coffee or coco at the top of the GSP, I rode around to the back of the parking lot to take control of the merging lane so our guys could enter at the top of the lot and would not have any cars in the way opening a clear shot onto the expressway. But Token2 jumped ahead instead of patiently waiting for the cars ahead of me to clear the lane.

As the rest of the group powered onto the Parkway, I was stuck behind two cars that stopped to turn into the parking lot and a third that merged onto a 65 mph speed limit highway at 30 mph. It's a left lane merge no less. So this car was pulling into the passing lane at less than half the speed limit. Scary! Meanwhile our group was now out of my sight.

Fortunately traffic was light here. I was able to find plenty of room and took advantage of the "sport" in my Honda's Sport-Touring designation. I don't know if Token2 ever even knew I was left behind. I caught up to the back of the pack just as they all slowed down awaiting our turn to merge onto I-287.

Now that merge is always a challenge. I'm not sure we've done it right yet in the 14 Polar Bear seasons I've been riding. Pogy and others with training in safe motorcycling have complained. Token2 prides himself on being an accomplished and disciplined rider. So I thought this week we might finally pull off a smooth and controlled merge.

In theory it's a simple process. The last bike in line, the sweep rider, me this week, moves over first. He then holds traffic behind him. As the cars in front of the sweep move on ahead, our riders can file into the now open lane. Then the sweep waits for a break in traffic and moves over to the center lane.

Because this part of 287 approaching the Palisades Mall tends to be heavy, stop-and-go, traffic. we like to take the far left lane.

Rolling down the on ramp, I found a gap and moved one lane left right away. As the cars moved forward, our group began filling in front of me. It was working! Then Captain passed the lead bike, Token2, advancing farther up the on ramp. Meanwhile, with all the rest of our riders in the first lane, I'd already moved over to clear the middle.

But now Captain was impatiently leading a mad scramble mishegas across the remaining two lanes. Following peer pressure the rest of the riders cut in front of cars and worked their way across the lanes. By the time I'd cleared the far lane, they were bunched up in the center and left lane several cars ahead of me. I ended up with six cars between me and the pack. In dense traffic there was no way I could easily catch up to the group. I wasn't about to split lanes or use the shoulder. I took a deep, cleansing, breath and rode my own ride, by myself. Still peer pressure gnawed at me.

We may get this right someday. But not this Sunday.

Traffic finally loosened enough on the Tappan Zee bridge itself for me to make a safe, three-lane, maneuver to rejoin my pals.

After the bridge, Token2 peeled off for I-684 to head from home, handing the lead back to Captain. Unlike our morning ride, it took miles for the bikes to preposition themselves. I think it was only when Mac peeled off for the Merritt Parkway that the mishmash sorted itself, sorta by default.

Meanwhile, Captain, smelling the barn, twisted the wick a few notches. Scott was making peripatetic use of his prerogative in staggered formation. He was also rubber banding, brusquely punctuated by his Harley straight pipes.

As we approached the merge onto I-95, Thumper pulled out of line into the center lane. I rode up even with him to see if all was okay and we traded thumbs-up. I'll have to ask him next week, but my guess is that between Captain's pace and Scott's mercurial lane position, Thumper decided to "ride his own ride."

Thumper actually rejoined us in Stamford. Traffic jamming reunited us this time, instead of separating us as before. By then we were also down to just four bikes: Captain, John J., Thumper and me. Small group riding is certainly less challenging.

Speaking of peer pressure, as we sat around the table at the top of the Garden State Parkway taking our coffee/coco break, Scott was feeling, perhaps, a bit left out. Scott rides with us only occasionally for Polar Bears. He never signs up for the patches and pins. That's all good with us. Anyone is welcome to ride along on one or all the rides, with or without signing up.

So Scott notices all the rest of us have a black stamp on the back of our hands. My guess is he'd noticed for some time that everyone but him had the stamp. He finally worked up to asking, "The stamp, is it a Polar Bear thing or something? Did you all get it when you signed in?"

Uh oh mateys, the black spot!

"You mean you don't have one?" I asked, "Dude! They stamped us when we paid for lunch!"

"Where did you pay for lunch?" he asked. "Right there at the end of the buffet line, the guy with the cash box," I said. "The one we were all giving 15 dollars to," Token offered. If you're reading this from the Fraternal Order of Eagles, Scott has promised to send a check. Oh, and you might want to invest in some stanchions or bigger signs.

The lunch was wonderful, by the way. A non-Connecticut Polar Bear in line with me complained about the $15, it used to be $10. One of the Eagle Brothers overheard and offered that when they first started hosting the Polar Bears they offered us only hot dogs and hamburgers for 10 bucks. This Sunday they offered salad, bread, pork loin with apples, roasted potatoes, pasta, chocolate pudding dessert and the worst coffee I've ever had. There was a small urn with hot, burnt, bitter coffee and a larger urn with cold coffee so weak it looked like tea. It didn't occur to me until just now that I probably should have tried mixing them into one cup.

Oh and as we all sat down to lunch Captain waited almost 15 seconds to mention the election. He was magnanimous though, hardly gloating at all. He and Thumper actually had a measured conversation at the top of the GSP.

See you next week. I'll be starting from Wilmington again and will gladly take one of those comfy spots in the middle of the pack.

Token, John J. and Mac in the back.

Scott and his shiny, never-been-rained-upon, Harley.

Thumper.

Organized bikes ready at the top of the Garden State Parkway.

One of Token2's bikes.

Mac and Captain at the top.

Trumped

Highlands Bears, from left: Mac, Princess, Thumper, Token2, Ed (hiding in back), Captain, Grumpy, Jim, Pogy and Fonz.

Motorcycle Polar Bear Blog, ride to Bahrs Landing, at the twin lighthouses, Highland, NJ, February 21, 2016.

Once again I had an event at work, part of a new initiative by our new president. This weekend it was the Long Island Sound Luau. Our idea was to offer a tropical respite in bleak midwinter. My luck the weather was freakishly warm in the middle of February. Still we had fun. I poured frozen umbrella drinks and judged the Spam carving contest. John Howard, a.k.a. Token2 offered the report.

 

By: John Howard

No, this is not about the presidential candidate but the word, as defined by the Merriam-Webster dictionary; ‘to be more important than (something) or to do better than (someone or something) in a contest, competition, etc.’ (Hmmm…I suppose it could relate to current politics)

Before the ride began your regular blogger Chris Loynd had his plans to visit Bahr’s Landing trumped by his employer. Work trumps riding; sad but true. So here I am, Token 2,  appearing again as your stand in reporter.

I was trumped when calling the Captain to notify my intention to join the ride.

‘Hello Captain, T2 here just wanted to….” I got no further.

Captain interrupts…’Morning, I need to put you on hold, Princess is also calling…’. The line went dead.

A ten year, gnarly veteran with scores of Polar Bear rides under his belt, put on hold, yes, ON HOLD for an ambitious, perfect attendance seeking newbie. Oh the shame of it, the humiliation. I write this piece crestfallen as there is no longer doubt (if doubt ever there was) that a youthful Polish chick with a little touch of recently anointed blue blood trumps a poker faced, curmudgeonly and increasingly ancient Brit.

Paul, who is now sporting a Thumper rabbit motif on his riding suit, was trumped at Dunkin Donuts in Stratford. Evidently he could not get his Yamaha single kick started when the ride formed up. He had left his ignition on (rookie error by a rookie, so that is OK) and the battery could not raise a spark. No one gave him a jump start so he was left behind to figure things out for himself. Reinforcing the fact that for CT Bears the ride trumps everything.

Fortunately  Thumper was able to buy a couple of AA Duracell batteries from the garage across from the Dunkin and eventually got his mount fired up. He arrived at Bahr’s Landing about 15 minutes after the group. It would seem that while he was spending time getting his Yamaha functional his un-helmeted head was strafed by an overhead bird leaving white deposits in various places in his hair. He claimed it was paint from decorating, I was not persuaded as it looked chunky in places.

I need readers help with the next one. Does a  well filled out, toga wearing, theatrical kind of guy on a 700cc Honda twin trump a skinny, computer code kind of guy on a 400cc single for take-off speed from a standing start? I don’t know as I was in the lead. We were joined by Jim on his son’s Honda Shadow somewhere on our journey south and he then battled things out with Paul on the journey north. Answers on a postcard please…see, increasingly ancient as I said earlier. Oh, have it your way,  send your response via a bloody tweet then.

Fonz trumped everyone on the ‘special day’ front…his birthday. So we sang the traditional song for him at the largely empty Bahr’s Landing (yes, we arrived at 11 and departed at 12.30pm). Pogy doesn’t much care for special days and asked who gave a ****.  No one had a good answer, so we just tucked into our food and stopped talking.

Mac has his special day next Saturday we learned…tying the knot, and will make things uber special with a trip to Africa for the honeymoon. Two-up? That would trump everything  don’t you think?

Grumpy made a return after most advisedly opting out of last week’s shiver-fest. His compositional talent for taking the group shot, one close in another with the restaurant signage in view was not fully appreciated by the group, well, Captain mostly. QEd (Quiet Ed) who has never once heckled Grumpy  rounded out the group of ten CTPB’s that made the run.

My mother told me to be careful of the quite ones …and she was right.  QEd along with Pogy must have wrangled an invite to Fonzies birthday party (and sleepover?) given the three of them slipstreamed past as seven of us exited at the Montvale rest stop. Nice, don’t forget to bring the rest of us some cake next week! (And keep it frozen until then so it stays fresh!).

This weekend had nice temperatures, nearing 60°F , which certainly trumps what was endured last week. The waitress who served us did not wear hotpants  or show cleavage; Bahr’s Landing is always ‘delightfully refined and yet untacky’ . She was efficient serving our group of 9 plus a latecomer and the food was customarily good. Traffic was not so bad, but intensified on the journey north.

Paul hosted the Montvale drinking session, thank you.

In deference to the title just a note on the presidential primary front, there was discussion over the beverages at Montvale about  the runner up positions in South Carolina. I Googled CNN  and reported, but was advised that CNN was not reliable. Only when confirming the report via Glenn Beck was the result accepted. No names; but for some Beck trumps CNN. Oh and I thought Cruuuuuuuz was a wide receiver for the NY Giants!

And finally on the local news Sunday night it was reported that over 100 seals had pulled out of the water on a sand bank in the Sandy Hook National Park, a stone’s throw from  today’s destination. The news did not report on the motorcycle gathering just down the road and so I conclude that seals trump polar bears, but I have never seen them eat one.

Until next time.

Princess holding court.

Fonz and Quiet Ed.

About to be married Mac.

Happy Birthday Fonz.

This week's author.

Thumper.

Token2 earns his gold rocker and is instantly Facebook famous.

Grumpy has everyone and the restaurant name . . . nearly.

Big man on a little bike.

Princess Treatment and Newbie Perspective

Howell, NJ Bears, from left: Princess, Captain, Mac, Paul, Pogy, Token2, posing in front of Paul's Yamaha SR400.

Motorcycle Polar Bear Blog, ride to The Cabin, Howell (or Freehold), NJ, December 13, 2015.

Editor's note by Chris Loynd: The Maritime Aquarium holiday festivities kept me from a warm and maybe too "hot," ride on Sunday. (We had the 60-piece Westport Community Band playing inside the Aquarium this day. What was I thinking?) In this unique blog post we have an accounting by Token-squared and also hear from new rider Paul Bruneau. I must say I am a bit ashamed. I encouraged my motorcycle student to ride with us, but he chose a ride when I couldn't be there to mollify our crew. Apparently Captain was leading and riding by the pirate code: "Them that falls behind is left behind." Thankfully Paul survived. Hopefully on his next ride we can have someone up front willing to hold the horses just a bit. And don't worry about time to kick over that thumper, because you can start any motorcycle in the time it takes me to put on my gloves and arrange my kit. I thoroughly enjoyed the view of our crew in Paul's lens. It all makes for interesting reading. Enjoy!

The Princess Treatment

By: Token2

At 8.30am my call went out to The Captain. I had decided to abandon the old CTPB etiquette in favor of the more recent Princess Rules of Engagement. The call took the form of a complaint.

“Why hadn’t you called to confirm the time of my pick up?” I asked.

“Be there at 9.35, the Princess will be at the bus-stop as well,” came the retort.

“Would you like me to lead?”

“No, I will”

“Sweep?”

“No, Pogy has bagged that spot.”

"OK, see you at the bus-stop.” I didn’t.

A relaxing day in the cradle was upended by the three lane closure of I-684 South due to an accident, forcing me on a lengthy detour. My arrival at the bus-stop at 9.38am turned out to be a lonely affair, for the first time in 8 years I had missed the rolling pick-up. As we all know, the CT Bears wait for no man (or women, even a Princess)…I had now experienced the full Princess treatment. It sucks.

I could not have missed them by much …but it took until exit 11 on the NJ Turnpike to catch up. Captain was applying some mustard on the ride south. As I hooked up at the rear I was surprised to find a new guy at tail gunner, with Pogy one bike up. Hmmm….. Immediately upon catching them Captain signaled he was pulling off at the services just before the GSP exit. I thought he wanted to find out the reason for my tardiness. I was wrong, he needed a pee.

So it was that the group was introduced to Paul, the new guy, at the Thomas Edison Services. A recent convert to motorcycling, Paul passed the CT MSF course in September having been trained by a certain Mr. Christopher Loynd assisted by one Pogy Pogany. Obviously, Paul had a natural talent for two wheels as we all agreed (with the exception of Pogy) that his MSF instructors were really not that good. Paul rides a 2015 Yamaha SR400, which is a very smart choice of bike for entering the sport. However, a 400cc thumper gets a little breathless on take-off and inclines compared to the other bikes in the group and Pogy and Paul had agreed that he would ride at the rear on this occasion. This would allow Paul to get a sense of the pace of things, observe the dynamics of group riding and to “ride his ride” if necessary in order to be comfortable. For sure his headlight faded into the distance a few times, but he always caught up. It seemed to work well for all and Paul rode with a good head for a newbie with only about a 1,000 miles under his belt. Nice to have you along young man (Paul lowered the average age of the male riders by about 10 years) and we hope to see you again.

The southward journey continued at a good and very uniform clip. The day which had started in the low 50’s embraced the mid 60’s ahead of our arrival at The Cabin. Frankly it was too darned hot and we were all over dressed. It would hit the low 70’s on the way home, thank goodness the sun did not come out much!

Huge turnout, the place was packed. Jill, our delightfully mild mannered waitress, had to put up with the customary questions about ‘same day service’ when the food was a bit slow arriving. No names of the guilty will be mentioned. Jill was advised that there was such a thing as justifiable homicide and several of us would have backed her story. Of course all good natured banter, wasn’t it Captain and Pogy? Darn it, I mentioned names…oops.

Mac consumed his usual gold plated hot dog for $15 without complaint, well, perhaps just a little grunt. Captain and Pogy are on an identical anti-fat bastard diet and chose salads. The rest of us went for hi-cal sandwiches. The food was Cabin good.

The return north was uneventful and included a stop at the top. Joanna had brought some goodies from ‘Kiss my Cake’. Evidently, as the picture discloses, “Kiss my Cake” cookies don’t travel well, or a Harley gives a very bumpy ride or Joanne licked the filling out before putting them back in the box. In any event they were delicious and enjoyed by all.

Pogy asked Paul what RPM his machine runs at when doing 70mph. Paul’s response “I have no idea because I never did under *0!” (There was an eight somewhere in his reply). Great answer! If the ride south had mustard then the ride north was Habanero hot.

A fun day out which at times felt like we were in the southern not the northern hemisphere given it is December.

A First-Time Ride with the Polar Bears of Connecticut (and Long Island)

By: Paul Bruneau

I believe to grow any skill you have to alternate periods of practicing what you know with occasions to push yourself to the next level. My first group ride today, a record-setting warm December 13th with the Connecticut riders of the Polar Bear Grand Tour, was definitely a chance to push myself.

I knew I was in for a challenge when Pogy, who met me at the Darien I-95 service center, gave me the quick course in group riding with the CT Polar Bears. After explaining the hand signals and some introductory group dynamics he said, "Just leave a couple of bike lengths ahead of you so that you have time to react to anything." My first thought was, "I don't think I can count 'one-motorcycle-one, one-motorcycle-two' in a couple bike lengths." Having been only recently indoctrinated by Connecticut's MSF program (with Pogy himself as one of my excellent instructors -- the other being Chris who couldn't ride today due to work), I knew I would suffer from a conflict or two in this group ride! But he also gave me the excellent advice (also provided in the MSF course) to "ride my own ride" if I felt uncomfortable at any point.

Moments later I had the chance to ride my own ride as Pogy gave me the "roll 'em out" signal and I proceeded to attempt to kick-start (it has no electric starter) my Yamaha SR400 several times with the key in the "off" position. FINE-C flies right out the window when the pressure is on. Pogy correctly rolled out himself rather than getting left behind by the sub-group consisting of The Captain, Mac and Joanna.

The Captain, being the caring and understanding leader that he is, must have given us (me) some pity because I was able to catch up to the group within a mile or so. Pogy signaled for me to take the spot ahead of him so he could be the sweeper or "tail gunner" as he told me the position is called. But between my 400cc single-cylinder engine, and my own reluctance to use the "1/8 second rule" to determine following distance, I wasn't able to keep a sufficiently tight formation to prevent car drivers from wanting to merge into our group. Pogy, bless him, rode up and signaled me to fill in the gap, but I just wasn't able to. He ended up moving up himself to let me figure things out in the new position of "backup sweeper" which was not a bad solution -- it allowed me to observe how the group worked and also slinky along at the rear to suit my engine and my own riding distance.

Pogy also let me know at the service center that the group rides at 70 to 72 MPH which I found to be a bit of an understatement, at least as far as my speedometer was concerned. There was a time when the speed got a lot more comfortable for me, and that's about when I noticed a police car riding alongside us, but I'm sure that was a coincidence.

On we rode as I picked up little ways to improve, even from the back of the pack. It was very clear that I have to work on closing that gap! As we headed south through New Jersey toward the destination of The Cabin in Howell, NJ, I saw another biker in my mirror. As a studious reader of the Polar Bear Blog, I thought the new rider might be Token2 and indeed it was, joining us just seconds before we exited the expressway.

Soon we turned into The Cabin, parked, and then Pogy introduced me to the riders of our group, who each warmly welcomed me. We made our way in with gifts for the children's hospital in our hands. Either Pogy or the Captain (I'll let them battle that one out) got us a nice 6-seat table and then they both started to torture our poor waitress who was dealing with probably more tables than any human could manage. She had her revenge, though, as five of us received our meals while Pogy could only look on, plateless, in stunned disbelief (which lasted for about 10 minutes). Token2 took pity on him by handing over his pickle, which I gather is some kind of Polar Bear inside joke.

Lunch gave me a chance to ask the group questions like, "when did you star riding?" which is a great icebreaker in a group of bikers, I think. Mac told me he got a Honda in 1960. I didn't have the heart to tell him that was the year I was born! The Captain shared that he started riding in 1997 and Token2 added, "And he actually learned to ride about 4 years ago!" Tough crowd!

I talked about picking up my gently used 2015 bike in Ohio and trailering it back to Connecticut. Pogy said he was really glad that Yamaha reintroduced this small bike to the U.S. market after having last sold it here some 30 years ago, and that it made a great first bike. In his next breath though, he said, "and as you have learned today, you have to get rid of it as soon as you can." I think he owns stock in Honda.

I didn't make the group have to wait for me as we left the restaurant, but a moment later at the fuel stop, the attendant fouled up my card swipe forcing everyone to wonder where the heck I was. Joanna later begged me to ride with the group again next week, because with me there, she was no longer the one who was causing delays, which shielded her from the Captain's stern eye. He runs a tight ship!

And on the way back north there was no mercy left as the Captain led a hasty retreat (and I do mean hasty)! A few minutes after they disappeared over the horizon, I spotted good ol' Token2 sitting at the off ramp leading to the traditional Dunkin' Donuts stop, waving me in. And I'm glad he did because he bought everyone hot chocolate and Joanna shared delicious, if slightly mushed, macaroons.

Again departing, the group decided to take the Merritt Parkway after the Tappan Zee, and I thought I would be able to enjoy a casual ride over the hills, through the curves and under the bridges of the Merritt. And indeed, after the gang disappeared in front of me, I was able to! But in all seriousness, it was a great day for a nice ride with new friends.

Ancient and new riders, Mac, left, and Paul, right.

When will waitress abuse end?

Flight B Leader Joan.

Bob with what appears to be not one, but two, Princesses.

Macaroons mixed by Harley-Davidson.

Mac, Princess and Pogy at our "stop at the top".