Tag: motorcycles

Reminiscin’

I was recently asked what was my favorite memory of my Father. One immediately

I will just start by saying my Dad was a god to me when I was young. Unfortunately, I feel that I worshiped at arm’s length. Later in life, I would understand the small gap of air between us. What I thought was reserved was actually his “Dad Hat”. My Dad was determined to be a good father. Committed to give me a good childhood and to make sure I had enough of everything. 

Because he had a lousy childhood and was given nothing, he was ending the cycle. 

What I refer to as reserved was just him trying too hard. I wish he had learned to just be himself around me. He eventually would, and when he did all was good. We enjoyed a very nice relationship in his later years. Nevertheless, Parkinson’s reduced him to a shell of his former self. He died in 2013.

I connected with my Dad through common interests. I made myself interested in things to spend time with him. When he was working on the house, I would hang with him and help out whenever possible. When he was under the hood of the car, I poked mine in as well to see what he was doing. When he watched Sports, I sat with him. I ingratiated myself to get close to him. And I’m so very glad that I did because my love of cars and sports came from him.

But what I love most from my father’s influence is my passion for motorcycles.

My Dad rode motorcycles as far back as I can remember. Motorcycles have an obvious allure. Aesthetically, the sleek styling, shiny chrome, and loud pipes appeal to the senses. The idea of them and what they represent excited the hell out of me. Freedom, danger, independence and (let’s face it) a badass vibe came to mind. That excitement has yet to wear off, but it is rivaled by the sight of my Dad pulling up the driveway on his bike when I was young.

It was agonizing on so many levels as I waited to be deemed old enough to ride on the back. When that day finally came, I was jumping out of my skin with excitement. I can still remember putting the helmet on and watching as dad made sure it was fastened properly. I remember the pre-ride speech about staying still and not making any sudden movements that may throw his balance. I vividly remember as we rolled down the driveway for the first time.

I wasn’t scared. I trusted my father to the moon and back. We went to our favorite place in Salem, MA. We ate pizza and Ice Cream as we watched the people scuttle about. It was a magic day and the place became our place after that day.

The only memory greater than that, my absolute favorite of all, involves the day I met up with my Dad. I was on my own bike to embark on our first ride together. We went to our place in Salem, MA, our place, and ate pizza and Ice Cream. This time, it wasn’t just the destination that mattered but the journey there and back. 

That is how I like to remember my Father. When I bought my first Harley after he had passed on. As I fired her up for the first time, I looked to the Sky and wondered if Dad was proud of me.

Do it now…Day 2

On day 2, as the farters and snorers began to stir at about 7 AM, I found myself with a decision to make. Do I haul my sleepless ass out of bed and risk major personal injury or illness and go on the ride and get out of the trip what I had hoped or puss out and stay at the motel?

You can catch up here and here.

I chose to go with the guys and make some memories.

After breakfast we put on our gear, warmed up the bikes and headed up Rte 9N, a beautiful scenic road that would take us through our little corner of NY and into the farmlands of VT. The first stretch of road was a long climb followed by a hair-raising downhill full of treacherous curves. My riding buddies were going too fast around the corners for my taste so I took my time. When I came to the bottom I found them at a rest stop taking off their helmets. We socialized with each other, I was still getting to know them and we mingled with other travelers as they pulled in as well. The stop was on Lake George and were all getting pictures when an enormous Military Transport Jet appeared over the lake and gave us a show at not even 1000 feet over the hard deck. It was quite a sight. We buzzed about that for a while and then started traveling again.

The next stop was Fort Ticonderoga, a major landmark which I had never seen before. Then, an hour later we came to Lake Champlain and took a ferry across the lake into VT. I was wiped and found myself sitting on the hard concrete floor of the ferry next to my bike, enjoying the scenery. 30 minutes later we were in VT.

We spent the next 3 hours driving through the most beautiful countryside I have ever seen. Under the canopy of a cloudless sky we weaved through farm country as far as the eye could see. There were barely any cars, quite a few bikes and no people. We stopped for lunch at a cute and very busy roadside burger joint and I slurped down 2 cokes to stay awake. We discussed our route and the boys decided that it would be best for me in my present condition to shave a little off of the trip to give me a break . I was grateful. We soon grabbed the ferry at a different spot and re-crossed Lake Champlain.

The remainder of the ride was challenging. Charlie number 2 and Rick took off when we got to the highway and Charlie and I didn’t want to drive 100 miles per hour so we lost them (or vice versa). We rode 80 miles of highway so remote that the only traffic was trucks hauling grain, feed and oil. We then found Rte 9N again and made our way back. We never did reconnect with Speed Racers 1 and 2 so we took our time. We got back to the hotel just as it turned dark. We went to the bar and sure enough, there they were. We chatted for a while about our 320 total miles and the highlights that we saw but I was fading fast. I decided that I was going to find a motel room in the 5 mile strip of completely booked rooms and get some sleep. At that point I felt as if my life depended on it.

I went to Trivago and found one. It was right down the street and only 92 bucks! I immediately booked the room, told the fellas not to be offended but I needed sleep, and set out. The boardwalk of madness ensured that my 1 mile commute would take 30 minutes but I made it. I went in to find that I had booked for the following week. I asked the cute little Asian attendant if there was anything available. There was, a double at twice the cost. I handed over my credit card and said I’ll take it. Fuck it.

I couldn’t sleep at first. But somehow I scraped out 6 hours and before I knew it I was checking out and meeting the boys for breakfast. Today was to be a bit of a break. We were parking the bikes and walking to the car show.

I welcomed the respite.

To be continued...