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Sunday, July 06, 2008

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The Sunday Run - Will we get hit with rain, or won't we?

Sunday morning started out with dark, looming grey clouds to the southern hemisphere, and about us we heard reports of storms, heavy rain showers, and more to come as they day went forward. Patti and I inspected several sources we use to obtain satelite and doplar radar images, as well as grilling NOAA's website for up to the minute warnings, or reports in the southern region of Erie county - our destination for the day.

Doesn't seem fitting that the one place we want to ride to is the one place where the weatherman says the most threatening weather is predicted to errupt. But we cheerfully ignored the weatherman, who's almost ALWAYS wrong, and packed the bike for our day of adventure and travel. Oh, and we packed our 'rain suits' just in case we were wrong, however that could be, I'll never know.

Our destination: Chestnut Ridge Park, in Orchard Park, NY. Located on route 277, this park has alot of memories for me as a kid, where I learned the law of gravity on a sled at the giant hill and tobogan run.

We looked over the map, and planned our route, and estimated the time it would take to get there. Our plan was to sign up at the COPS benefit run at Chestnut Ridge, and split off from the run somewhere and join in the festivities for the Genesee/Wyoming run which was also being held that day. That way we could support both events, and get some 'back-road' riding in - which is exactly what I love the most about Erie county. The back routes have the most challenging hills, and turns, and wonderous scenery, and can take you to some of the best spots in the country side for those little places you find the best deals on things you never find in the city.

Ok, back to the story. We're packed up, ready to go, but first we've got to get some breakfast. We want McDonalds - they shut down the breakfast menu at 10:30am - it's a 12 mile ride to the closest McDonalds, without going way out of our way for food. The time was 10:00am, when we jumped on the bike, and in 12 minutes we were standing at the counter in MacDonalds' placing our order - 2 small orange juice, 1 bacon,egg & Cheese buscuit, and 1 sausage, egg and cheese busciut. Oh and don't forget my cheese! She did, as always, and I had to hand it back to ask for the cheese as usual.

We were watching the skies while we ate, remembering the time we were here once before eating on the morning of another ride, when the rains came hard, so you can imagine our concern while we sat with our breakfast. You know that sinking feeling you get when you watch the sky go dark, and realize too late you're going to see your machine get a shower, well, I was getting that sinking feeling, so we gulped down the rest of our breakfast, and discussed our options while we puffed a smoke out in the parking lot.

We made our decision - we were pressing on, depsite the ever darkening skies. So, with courage and a handful of luck, we ventured forth into the dark and forbidding lands of the necromancer, Erie County's hills and valleys. Heading north on the first leg of our journey, we came to route 20 and found Girdle road, and sped north again as our hearts lightened with the skies turning a bit brighter. Not cold, not warm, the air was eerily still that morning, and we continued to cautious.

Crossing into East Aurora, we were nearing the inner part of town as we felt a couple of rouge rain-drops on our faces, and our hopes began to sink.

We discussed our options as we rode, what alternate plans were available should we come into rain? Our goal was to make it to Chestnut Ridge, and make another estimation of the weather once we arrived.

The rain ended, just as quickly as it started, and we arrived at Chestnut Ridge park bone dry and happy to see all the sparkling motorcycles and smiling faces milling about tier machines, making ready to ride. We signed in, and found Pete with his mate, standing besides his 1200 AMF Harley Davison with a sidecar.

So, we signed in at the desk, got our hands stamped, and drew our first card - both of us drew a Queen of Diamonds! Imagine that! Maybe an omen of good luck! Well, we'll see as we gather our group together, and prepare to head out to our first stop, in the magical land of Cheektowaga, New York. A great ride as we head out until we hit the Cheetowaga area, the roads instantly turn to wet-spray. No rain, we must be right behind it though, as the roads are getting more and more sloppy. Then, it happens. The Maxim X decides it doesn't like the wet, and we lose cylinder #3, and she's runnign like a moped with half as much power. We limp into the stop and it stalls out as we roll into the parking lot.

Pete, and a handful of helpful bikers stand around it and rub thier chins thinking as I describe the problem - the coil got wet is the common agreement. Pete invites me to jump into the sidecar and we take a bumpy ride to the auto parts store around the corner to get some silicone spray in the hopes it will remedy the problem. I return with a can, and douse the areas I think are afflicted with the problem. No change. I let the motor idle for a while hoping it will dry itself out and come back to life. No change.

A 3/4 inch socket with a universal joint and a 4inch extender makes quick work of removing the plugs - not fouled, but inspecting the wires shows that there might something afoot with the #3 wire, and we trim the bad part and put it back into the boot, screwing it in securely. No change.

The group is packing up preparing to head to the next stop, in Colden. Pete looks at me and says "Run it and if it shits the bed, we'll head over to my place and get the trailer and tow it home. Maybe it just needs to dry itself out now, and you'll be back in action."

Skeptical of this idea, I look at Patti, and she nods approval "Let's go for it" and we jump on the bike and start out. The motor suddenly comes back to life, firing on all fours, and we're back in action, with renewed vigor. As I'm driving, I've got one eye on the road, the other on the clouds, and praying we don't see any more wet roads.

5 miles from Colden, the skies brighten, and look alot less threatening, and as we approach Colden's limits, the air is less humid, and we're running great! We pull into the Colden Sheriff's stop with a broad smile and we're dried off from the run, the Maxim purrs with delight as it's idling. I shut it off, and sigh as we are introduced to a gentleman waiting for us who reports it hasnt rained a drop all day here.

From Colden, we break off from the main group, and we follow Pete back to his house, before heading to the Genesee/Wyoming gig in Derion center. A few hot dogs, and some drinks - and some kind conversations and we're back on the road, now the clouds are pretty much wispy thoughts of grey, and our spirits are lifted as we hit big patches of brilliant sunshine. The day is getting better, and the ride is too! Twisting roads, up, up, up, and then plummeting hills with great vistas of the countryside are enjoyed as wisk along unknown roads, the smells of pines and farmlands wash over our senses and we bask in the wind with a great feeling of freedom. We arrive in Derion center too soon, (for my tastes) and pull in to find a handful of bikes parked in the lot at the tiny little gin mill that is hosting the stop.

Seventy five cents for a soda is the right price indeed! We jabber-jaw with friends not seen in a while, and tell stories about the day's events, sharing good times and bad - one poor chap got hassled by the police about something I didn't hear, but he was grouchy and didn't look to be in the mood to re-hash the whole story again, but from what I caught he wasn't having fun then. We hung out for another hour, before Patti and I agreed we'd had another full day of thrills, looking forward to some nice quiet rest back at the homestead, so once again, we said our goodbyes, and zipped home route 77 and before too long I was rolling the Maxim up the plank into her stall in the shed, where she spends her evenings in a quiet, dry and cozy area.

We sat on the deck, sipping iced tea, watching the sun set, reminiscing our day, and feeling grateful we'd endured the tough stuff, but decided to stick it out for the rest of the day which turned out to be the most rewarding part of the entire day.

Next week, it's the Mercy Flight Run, and who knows what will happen on our adventure. Tune in next week to find out.

Scott Fleming
Motocyclist Blog

What a great weekend for riding

Here's an account of a great weekend of riding! Riding! And then, some more riding!

Saturday morning, about 8:30am, Dennis Matuzak, Patti and myself headed out to Rochester to attend the Flag Day Freedom Rally after meeting for breakfast at the Transit Family Diner, and gulping down those wonderous grease-ladened home fries, eggs and 3 slices of crispy bacon. I had to keep going to the counter to get our waitress who practically ignored us all the while we were waiting to order, and then again when she neglected me again by forgetting my orange juice I ordered with my food. Her tip was minimal, let me just say that much.

Under clear blue skies and cool temperatures, we headed out west on route 31a and arrived in Rochester to find a nice gathering of bikers, and a park filled with leathers and chaps. No vendors, nothing to drink or eat, no bathrooms. We bought a couple of small flags for the bike from the ABATE table, where sign-in's were accepted, and each of us were given a "food ticket" to be handed in at the end of the run. Lucky we packed some candy, and a bottle of water or we'd both have been chomping on a tree branch in the park for something to eat.

The kick-off for the Rally was sparked by a spine-tingling solo avant-garde rendition of the Star Spangled Banner, even though the singer lost her lines near the end, she covered really well, and if you weren't paying attention, you would have missed it, but this listener didn't . Then Jeff Metz introduced Scott Twitchell, who gave the audience a stirring and emotionally lifting speech, followed by a reception speech from Michael Cavuoto, the president of Monroe County ABATE of New York, the hosting chapter of the event.

The politicians that were invited to come to the Rally decided they had better things to do, and were not present. (shocker!) A couple of other biker-looking folks took the stage after that to speak on matters concerning their chapters, or events, and the next thing we knew we were on the bike, with our helmets bunjee'd to the back, looking to get the "GO" signal from the lead rider who was already revving his motor in excitement. It was nice to see so many faces smiling without thier helmets, I hardly recognized some folks without them on.

The run was escorted by the Rochester police, and it felt really good to ride without the lid for an hour. The city folk came out of their homes, bars, and other cracks in the neighborhoods to watch the procession, waving as we passed.
We doubled back on the route we started out at, so the same folks we waved to on the way out, were still waving to us as we passed going back to the destination, which gave them a double treat for bike-gawkers on the sidewalks who were sitting outside a little restaurant along the run.

A grand ride indeed, we arrived in fine style at the end of the run and were treated to a nice hamburger (or hot dog) lunch, complete with potato salad and a bag of chips, certainly worth the wait in line to get the ketchup and mustard for. There were only 2 barmaids working the old man's VFW bar inside, and the line of thirsty folks went out the door, back into the parking lot. A slow process to simply get a pepsi, but I endured the line, mooing like a cow perdiocally in a form of complaint. Socializing with some folks, we found a spot beneath a tree to sit, as there was only 3 or 4 little tables scattered about with a reserved number of chairs assigned to them. So "grab a tree" was a common herald from those sitting on the ground.

We said good bye to Dennis, as he decided he wanted to solo ride going home. PAtti and I hung out with Pete and and we headed up to Route 104 to make the long journey home. Rush hour traffic is the same in one town as is it in every other town in the USA, so I eased off the throttle, and got in line with the other commuters until we got out of town, and stretched out the legs for a great putt through some very senic areas of northern New York state. The lake's cool air was refreshing, and bright sunshine made the heart feel light as we must have maintained a wide smile the whole time we were on that stretch of route 104. Just inside the Orleans county line, we stopped and enjoyed an ice cream cone, a quick cigarette, and we were running again in fine style, still smiling, now a little wider after that tasty treat.

By the time we entered the outskirts of Clarence, we were both ready for a hot shower, and some soft clothes, and a nice cozy couch. We rolled through the downtown area, with our heads up, and feeling good. Grunts and groans began as soon as I turned the key to kill the engine, sitting in the driveway, with a sigh of relief, both of us appreciated the fact that we made it home safely, and were feeling the effects of the road, the sun and wind.

We applaud the people who worked hard to put on a successful ride, and all those connected with making such an important event happen.

Tune in next time, when we get up the following morning, and jump right back on the bike, and head out into the southern badlands of Erie county to attend the COPS benefit run - despite the weatherman's promise we would get soaked in doing so, and despite the fact we looked at the clouds and cringed with fear at thier omnisce apprearances!