Polar Bear Blog 2007/2008

If you've stumbled onto this page out of curiosity, you're welcome to stay and read the saga of riding motorcycles in the winter.

Several of us from Connecticut, participate in the Polar Bear Grand Tour, a winter-long set of destination rides sanctioned by the American Motorcycle Association (AMA): www.PolarBearGrandTour.com.

This blog allows me to preserve some great memories and to share them with my fellow Polar Bear motorcycle riders, you, and anyone else in the world. Enjoy! So despite my first editor's warning about committing to a weekly column, here it us, usually posted by the Wednesday after our Sunday ride.

Join the CT Polar Bear Riders!

And a good time was had by all. A little warmth, Bernie's recruiting efforts, maybe the New Year itself ― we turned out a crowd last Sunday. Ten bikes and 11 people. Plus Matthew Goddard, our adopted NJ bear, joined us for lunch. We allowed him to sit with us once he promised to hide his Christmas-present-new riding jacket.

But before we get to neon lime, the color of greatest interest is no doubt blonde.

Bernie's Branford banker, Selina saw her customer in a Sturgis tee shirt one day. She asked Bernie if he rode, then commented that she and her husband ride motorcycles. What they were looking for was folks to ride with, especially in winter time when most of their other riding friends do not.

"Do I have a riding club for you," I am sure Bernie exclaimed.

Selina and husband Mark fit right in with our Connecticut Bears. They were a lot of fun; immediately giving as good as they got.

With his piercing blue eyes and a last name like Sattelberger, there's no way Mark is not riding a BMW. In fact he has a big silver land yacht, a liquid cooled K 1200.

I did not press, and they did not sign-up, but I have a feeling we may see Selina and Mark again. They seemed to have a good time. And they probably will join us again . . . if Russ did not scare them off!

Another new CT bear signed up on this, his first ride. After two, maybe three, years of talking about riding Polar Bear with us, fellow Bridgeport HOG John Jackson showed up Sunday.

His experience must have been a positive one. He shelled out his registration bucks. Polar Bear Grand Pooh-Bah Bob Hartpence took him under his wing and signed him to flight B I believe.

Russ doesn't scare John Jackson. He knows Russ well enough from our summer HOG rides and winter meetings.

Of course Russ doesn't care what any of us thinks. The Germans have a wonderful saying, "When you lose your good reputation you can live quite freely." Russ gave his away years ago, probably to the U.S. Navy.

The biggest problem in John Jackson joining us is that his first name is shared by three other CT Bears. To help my blog readers keep track, I may just name him Fred. But I guess  we'll have to settle for John J.

What will we do when a John with a same last name initial joins us someday? Is it me, or are these Johns starting to sound like the "Men in Black?" They are the Johns, the Johns in black, black leather that is: B, H, J, K.

Also joining us on his first ride was Al Lanza. Another friend of Bernie, Al is the Director of the New Haven (CT) Harley Owners Group, HOG, of which Bernie is a member. Bernie is also a member of our Bridgeport HOGs. Does that make him bi-hog?

Those New Haven HOGs must ride with a lot of Sportsters. A small and nimble Harley, Sportsters are known for shortening group rides. While most of our Harleys can go 180 miles or so on a tank of gas, Sportsters max out at 100 miles.

He still has the Sporty, and is a member of the XL club (Harley-Davidson's model designation for Sportster models is "XL"). But he wisely left the Sporty home and rode the big bike for the Polar Bear run.

Now Al's Harley Ultra Classic should go the distance with the rest of us. Well, except for John H. and his Honda ST which has a range of 900-some miles on a single tank of regular gas. (John replied to this statement by saying that to get 900 miles he must resort to premium gas. Otherwise he stands by my assertion.)

Clocking just 105 miles to the Wearhouse Grill, Al dove for a gas station, dropping out of line when the light on his EFI gas gauge blinked.

Hopefully Al was impressed with our Bridgeport HOG road captains. Like sheep dogs that tolerate no strays, both John K. and Ken dropped out with Al. John K. then came on ahead to inform us of Al's absence.

Anytime our CT Polar Bears and other blog readers think we are doing something special riding our motorcycles all the way from Connecticut, consider Randy, usually on his 100,000 mile plus Moto Guzzi Quota.

Note to Matt's wife: It works!

Once you get over the initial and visceral "ewe" reaction and your stomach settles back down, one undeniable fact remains, you can be seen by other drivers, even dead ones.

Matt you gotta get some miles on that brand new jacket. Hopefully a bit of road crud will dial it down just a bit.

So my blog readers would believe me I put my digital camera's CCD module in harm's way and snapped the picture at right. I accept no responsibility if viewing this blows out your computer screen or fries your eyeballs.

Be sure to say hi to Matt at our next Polar Bear meet. You won't have any trouble finding him!

Once he took that jacket off and I think maybe we even made him turn it inside out, Matt joined us for lunch.

Matt, did Grumpy tell you how his particular model Tom Tom is programmed to find every Dunkin' Donuts in the country? That way even if you're lost you can be lost with a nice, steaming, cup of joe.

Just remember Matt, a computer can never make up for common sense.

As Herman’s Hermits said, “Second verse, same as the first.” This Sunday’s ride will look very much the same as last week’s. Oh we end up at a different restaurant. But the distance and time, 100 miles/2 hours are the same and the general location, mid-Jersey is the same. It probably makes sense to go down the NJ Turnpike, so my guess is we should take our infamous Parkways to the GW Bridge. John H. if you’re joining us; that means the Hutch “services” as they’re called in the Queen’s English.

Right now the weather forecast oscillates between mostly cloudy to a chance of showers for this Sunday. I plan to ride unless it is pouring rain in the morning or – more importantly – if the late day forecast is any chance of ice or mixed precipitation. Right now it looks like we should make it home before as much as a foot of snow falls Sunday night.

North Brunswick Township, NJ; January 13, 2008

What a great way to enjoy the calm before the storm! Great Polar Bear weather, a reasonably close destination, good food and fun friends all came together for a near perfect Polar Bear day.

John K. pretty much made the blog happen this week. Without his extraordinary efforts I would have a lot less to write about.

He offered me the lead this Sunday. I was prepared. I had printed out my MapQuest directions. I even went back and reviewed last year's blog for this destination. Yup! This was the ride I led last year and very nearly repeated a mistake from the year before.

As we come off the NJ Turnpike, you have to take Route 18 North to go South on Route 1. Last year I stopped our bikes on the apron centered between the north/south exit options to confer with my GPS enabled riding buddies. The year before that I followed my intuition, incorrectly, to take Route 18 South.

So I had a pretty good idea where we were going. But it is tough for me to remember more than three turns or route numbers in a row. Typically I write a few pointers in grease pencil on my mirror. This Sunday I had not. So when John K. offered me the lead I deferred it back to him.

Good thing that I did. Me, I would have led a boring ride. John K. and his GPS offered us a bona fide adventure.

Maybe he had a premonition. He was leading in the morning with great vigor. If John K. was a horse, you would have said he had too much grain in his feed this morning.

Ken's bike made the Polar Bear web site photos, (see below) and: http://www.polarbeargrandtour.com/sj08.htm
(photo above by Chris)
(photo below by Walter Kern)

I tried to keep tight to John K., riding directly behind him., but John K. was setting a pretty good pace. Russ always rides tight with riders he trusts. And I guess after all the miles we have done together, he trusts me a whole lot because Russ was right up my butt; in the corners he came up even closer. Sandwiched, I could not have backed off if I wanted to. I leaned in harder, twisted the wick a bit tighter, even scraped the floorboards a few times. Good stuff!

Poor Kenny, who eschews leaning, dropped way back in the corners then had to make it up on the straights.

When we picked up John H. at the Hutch Parkway "services" as our British friend calls them, John K. barely slowed to allow him to catch us as we blew by.

As I glanced in my rearview mirror, noting John H.'s dedication in trying to catch us, I gasped. My God, he's pitching forward over the handlebars! Then I remembered he rides that Honda ST thing with his head forward and feet tucked back and he always looks like he's about to take a header over the "windscreen," windshield to you and me.

I give John H. a lot of credit. He rides all day crunched in an impossible "Z" with his feet back, knees forward, ass pushed back and head pitched forward. Those Europeans are so eccentric!

But I promised you an adventure this week delivered by our own Captain John Kammerer. He too was fooled by the complex Route 18 North to Route 1 South transition just off the Turnpike. Only it was Route 1 that got John K.

As he approached the critical decision point, his GPS was busy, baking cookies or downloading a song or some such nonsense. It wasn't on the job. It was "recalculating." And John K. is nearly completely GPS reliant. Rather than rely upon his sense of direction (that sense that led me to try to head south off the turnpike, instead of the counterintuitive north first on 18 to go south on 1 as desired), John K. turned north on Route 1. Why? Who knows? It was a fifty-fifty shot. He guessed wrong.

Of course correcting course is not so easy in New Jersey which years ago declared all left turns anathemas. Amazingly John K. ignored the clear signs offering a "U" turn farther ahead and instead followed his GPS into a residential neighborhood, blithely continuing on past the "NO OUTLET" sign to a physical dead end before looking up from the tiny screen and admitting defeat.

From there it was easy to Sir John's.

John K. was up for his 60 point pin on this ride. Rich and Dave played him well. John K. started out to give them a hard time about how they had better not be out of 60 point pins. Rich feigned surprise. Dave just smiled.

When John K. found his page in the Flight B log book his 60 point pin was already taped in place next to the day's entry.

Matthew found us and joined us for a soda. It sounds like he lives so close he could have walked here, but brought the bike 'cause it wouldn't be cool to show up on foot.

Matt pointed out that there are even more of those neon lime green yellow jackets showing up (see last week's blog). Darned if he wasn't right; there were half a dozen in the parking lot as we were leaving.

I offered you a John K. Odyssey at the opening of this blog. And John K. delivered it on the ride home. So if you are not tired of reading, here is some more fun.

On the ride home, we planned to take the Garden State Parkway. For us, passing by New York City is the only way to get to and from most Polar Bear runs coming out of Connecticut. Typically that includes crossing either the George Washington or Tappan Zee Bridge.

On the way down, it being morning, we often risk the GW. But the ride home is always better traffic-wise over the Tappan Zee. It has become a tradition, in the way traditions creep into one's life, to stop at the top of the Garden State Parkway rest stop for a coffee and to top off our gas tanks with some cheap NJ gasoline.

I blame his GPS. When you look at a map only a few inches at a time, you lose the ability to see the overall picture. Sense of direction goes out the window.

The locals wanted the rubes off their roads, and in the meantime if Jerseyites could pick up a few bucks, well, what was the harm really?

After all, traffic is one of New Jersey's most precious resources.

Think I am kidding? According to the International Bridge, Tunnel and Turnpike Association, the Garden State Parkway is the nation's busiest toll road. The Turnpike ranks number five in volume. Along with the Atlantic City Expressway, all three roads carried 748 million vehicles in 2006.

Now New Jersey Governor Corzine proposed mining this unnatural resource to pay the state's debt. (New Jersey is the country's fourth-most indebted state.) Just recently he proposed increasing tolls by 50 percent in 2010, then again in 2014, and again in 2018 and once more in 2022. Plus he will heap "inflation adjustments" on top of his logarithmic madness.

So now you begin to understand why just about any road within 100 miles of the GSP has those little signs directing you toward it. When I lived in Hightstown, my driveway had one of those little signs.

   If I have any Delaware residents (my home state) reading this blog, GSP signs are like those little "follow the gulls" signs littering the southern Delaware landscape. The gulls purport to helpfully lead you to the Chesapeake Bay Bridge-Tunnel. They bring you from virtually any road in the state and then sucker you onto the $12 toll route instead of taking the free Interstate 95 to reach the same points south.

Similarly, if the early Garden State Parkway commission had its way, ALL roads in Jersey lead to the Parkway.

We were a mere two Turnpike exits from connecting with the Garden State when we left Sir John's. Knowing Jersey pretty well, I could see the map in my mind; that big "X" just north of us where Turnpike and Parkway cross.

John K. was looking only at the little GSP signs and trusting his GPS to do the rest. And sure enough, those little signs did in fact lead us to the Parkway, by way of Old Bridge.

Even when we go to Old Bridge for our Polar Bear ride and banquet, and even when we want to go home on the Parkway, we still first head north on the Turnpike.

By the way I had this very same argument with the similarly GPS disabled Grumpy on the way home from the VFW ride this very winter. If you guys now look at the bigger picture, clearly demonstrated by the map above, you can see why the Turnpike is oftentimes the fastest way to the Parkway.

We turned east onto some Podunk local side road after being a stone's throw from the Old Bridge VFW. John K. probably recognized where we were but was not about to give up on his little GSP sign quest now.

He even stole one of MY trademark moves. Somehow, someway, John K. found a way to mess with Russ' vaunted $5,000 worth of chrome accessories. Usually I find Russ a dirt road to ride no matter how much asphalt surrounds us. John K. could not pull off my trick exactly. But he did find a really big puddle surrounded by about two tons of salt. When I saw the big caution sign "ROAD FLODDED" I just started laughing inside my helmet.

As we pulled up to our 50th red light I flipped up my visor and offered John a bit of helpful, albeit practical, navigation advice. "When you see the ocean, turn left!" I shouted. And by golly he did as we finally reached the tidal marshes that mark the eastern edge of New Jersey and thereby the Garden State Parkway.

Hey, it was a beautiful day for a ride. We all had a very good laugh at John K.'s expense. And I got a few more wonderful paragraphs for the blog.

When we finally stopped at "Chez GSP" at the top of the Parkway, I presented John with a low-tech, two-dimensional, hand-held, navigational device: an official New Jersey state map!

If you are one of our blog's more faithful readers, you will know that John K.'s naval service had a profound effect on his life. To this day he decorates his Harley, helmet, jacket and vest with symbols of homage to his few short years in the submarine service.

He has told us many times that his job on the submarine was that of Quartermaster. He further claims this means he was a navigator. Now I did not serve in the military. But I have read enough books to know that an Army marches on its "stomach" and a Quartermaster in the Army makes sure the troops have enough to eat.

If in fact John K. really was a navigator in the Navy, we figured out why he leads us so far astray on our motorcycles. It's the land, the signs, the features, the sky, landmarks, horizons, that are throwing him off. As one of our fellow CT Bears said, "If we blindfolded John, he would have brought us here by the straightest course."

Even so, by any route, John K. and his GPS always get us there and back. And what fun is efficiency? As Russ says, "I would follow Kammerer anywhere, even up a tree!"

Here's a comment from blog reader Douglas Colfer who met up with us in New Brunswick:

This Sunday the weather was warm enough and Sir John's was close enough to his home that he rode over to check it out. It was great to meet him in person. He is a whole LOT taller in person than in his photos.

We exchanged a few pleasantries then he was off to feed deer carrots. Well that's what he said.

Ah Chris,

What a pleasant day for a ride and to finally have a chance to meet the crew of the CT Bears.  Since being so close to home "Margaret," aka the camera girl, decided we would head out for a nice Sunday ride for a bit. It was then I realized that the Polar Bear destination was a mere 15 minutes away from the house so we decided to cruise on over to visit. Had we not had breakfast, we most certainly would have liked to join your group for lunch.

Well Chris, I would like to say it was truly a pleasure to meet all you guys and finally attach the names to the faces in real time. Here was funny little tid-bit I'll share, as we pulled in early to Sir Johns around 11am there were a few bikes there but no CT Bears yet. While we waited I explained to her :::: {Margaret }::: you remember the camera girl,,, the story behind the Blog and so forth. Well after the lot began to fill up, and a good 45 min waiting Margaret say's maybe they are not coming today. I answered, oh they'll be here, they probably took a wrong turn, lol... Then low and behold, here comes John K, distinguished by the proud Patriot Guard banner that I have seen in so many pictures pulling in. I found it ironic that with the lot almost full of bikes, John K just happened to slowly back his ride right in next my Classic which I thought was kind of weird in a sense.

After we left  Margaret ,, {aka the camera girl} ,,LMAO... and I did in fact head over to the county park to feed the deer some carrots, but not before a nice stop at the local DD for a fresh brewed Hazelnut. Well Chris in the essence of time, I need to get my crew here at work going, so again its was our pleasure to be able to shake hands and exchange hellos to the CT Bears, hopefully soon we will again hook up and share a burger and some stories. So goes life on Easy St.. Till then be well and I am glad you all arrived back home safe and sound.

PS.
 I was going to include my number in case you ever needed directions since I am very good with Jersey roads, then I thought, shoot if they knew where they were going, GPS, or not, there would be no stories or U-turns missed and certainly no EASY streets to be found, lol.....

Fellow CT Bears, as I look ahead on Tuesday to our next ride on the upcoming Sunday, I am more intrigued by the weather forecast than the MapQuest one.

MapQuest predicts 2 hours and 40 minutes, 144 miles, one way. Of course MapQuest just loves the Cross Bronx Expressway, which is generally a death sentence on a motorcycle. So with our alternate route, we might just squeak that distance to 150 miles one way, which garners a whole 'nother point. Given the distance involved, we had better leave at 9:00 a.m. I hate to leave a moment earlier because of the second forecast.

This week, Chris, your blogger, led the ride. Absolutely everything went perfectly. So there really is nothing to say in this week's blog and certainly no one of whom we can make fun or tease.

Scroll down for the photos.

Oh, okay, I guess I can find something to write about.

For one thing, it was disappointingly warm. Warm? Did I say WARM? Well yes I did. Here's what I mean.

If you listened to the weathermen mid-week last week, they were predicting single-digit cold in the morning with a high only in the teens during the day.

It actually turned out 10 degrees warmer on Sunday.

Riding in single digit temperatures gives you something to brag about. Rightfully so.

On the motorcycles at speed, properly layered, electric clothing pulling full power, twenty-something cold is really not insurmountable. I was colder putting on my layers in the parking lot ― fingers freezing as I labored with Velcro, zippers and snaps ― than when I was cruising along.

Bob Hartpence, who truly is a polar bear and comfortable at temperatures far below human tolerance, told us a good story about his electric vest. He bought an early BMW model heated vest from Rich, who used to have a cycle shop.

Bob took the vest home, wired it up to his bike and took a turn around the block. "Yep, it works just fine," he thought at the time. Then he put the vest in his closet waiting for a cold enough day. Bob told us Sunday the vest has been in the closet for twenty-some years now.

Speaking of that fearsome cold predicted for Sunday, if you remember the opening of the week earlier blog, I said, "what a great way to spend the calm before the storm." Only the "storm," a predicted "classic Nor'easter," never arrived. Confident predictions of up to 12 inches of snow were quickly adjusted downwards. We ended up with 0 inches.

News 8, shown in the graphic, offers "precision micro cast." Geoff Fox, the guy in the inset, will deliver an exacting, hour-by-hour, town-by-town weather prediction at 11:15 p.m. each evening, only to be proven wrong again and again the next day. Yet he soldiers on, undaunted by his lack of accuracy.

So it turned out there really was no need for me to lead our group as I did this week. If you read the end of last week's blog I was worried about John K. taking us on GPS enabled detours or Grumpy gutting it out with a straight-through ride, frostbite be damned.

We opted for the downstairs buffet. It was absolutely excellent. However we all chipped in five bucks more than we expected to pay for the privilege. There was some confusion about whether tax and gratuity were included. Best as I could understand it, upstairs they were included, downstairs they were not.

My policy in this blog is never to criticize the efforts of our Polar Bear organizers. They do so very much for us. All those books, points, finding and vetting weekly venues, are done for our enjoyment by volunteers.

As a bonus we got to embarrass a teenager. Some young girl at the table cattycorner from us had a birthday. And when her family and the restaurant waiter started singing, our seven Polar Bears chimed in. We stumbled over the name part of the song, "Happy birthday dear whatsyourname . . ." but recovered with gusto for the ending, "Happy birthday to yoooou!" and joined in for the applause. She was mortified.

So please be sure to bring appropriate photo ID next Sunday if you plan to join us ― that includes passengers who may not otherwise be carrying their drivers' licenses.

Club Dix also puts out a wonderful buffet, chef tended as well, in their very impressive dining room. I do not recall the cost, but I believe it is under $20.

Fort Dix is famous as boot camp to many a soldier through the years. It also is the non-optional residence of several Connecticut politicians. Our disgraced former governor John "buy me a hot tub" Rowland is back home now. However disgraced Bridgeport state senator Ernie "I am a Moses to my people" Newton is still visiting. Don't know if he will be waiting on us Sunday or washing dishes. Maybe we should let him know some of his neighbors are visiting. John K. paid untold amounts of Bridgeport taxes over the years.

Speaking of predictions, I have been writing the blog tonight, Monday, in front of the History Channel. What wonderful watching!

First up was a feature named "Decoding the Past." It outlines how many different sources like the Oracle of Delphi, the Aztec calendar, Merlin, the I Ch'ing and the Internet all predict the end of the world on December 21, 2012. This was followed by the delightful documentary, "Life After People."

So if you have been waiting to join us for a Polar Bear ride, better not hesitate. We have less than four years left of life on earth.

Boy is that gonna suck! Just as my wonderful, straight-A student daughter graduates from college ― an effort in which I will invest somewhere right around $100 grand ― the world goes poof!

Enjoy every day and ride whenever you can. See you Sunday.

The only snow we fear is snow itself.

So although the forecast was gloomy and the sky more so, we know well enough not to trust the weatherman. Earlier this year, Johns B. and K. drove their car out to the Poconos when they could have ridden just as well. So we rode to Fort Dix under threat of snow showers. And we found the sun, shining brightly, over New Jersey.

It was a little dicey in Westchester County, N.Y. As we came off of Interstate 287 to take the multi-parkway route to the George Washington Bridge, the roads were wet. Salt trucks were hitting the off ramps. A bit of snow was piled next to the highway and coated nearby lawns.

As we pulled off to meet our fourth John, H., he was not at our usual meeting point.

John H. responded with the prudent observation that, "it only takes one spot to ruin the day." He awoke Sunday morning as snow began falling in his part of the world. Down by the warmth of Long Island Sound we had no snow.

Only about one-eighth-inch coated his driveway, John H. figured he could manage his way out onto the public roads. He ventured out only to find his local roads were also snow covered and sanded.

For us, just that touch more south of John H., our road was merely wet. So we tippy-toed around the on-ramp and started our Yonkers-Bronx parkway weave. Soon the roads were dry again, at least in the center travel lane. That may have been courtesy of the four wheelers, though traffic was mostly light.

As we rolled down the New Jersey Turnpike, the sun began to appear and strengthened every mile.

Whether psychological or physical as the weather improved we dialed down the electrics and rode comfortably in the zone, our bubble of traffic largely unbroken.

Johnny B. led. Two Johns fell in behind him. I was sweep.

Johnny B., as it turned out, had a thing or two to teach me.

I tried it. I might even be buying it. But I found the first pair of glove liners warmer than the second. The first pair looks like a High School project. Wires are looped back and forth, stitched over a pair of cloth gloves.

The second pair were definitely cleaner looking. Wires are hidden in a cloth backing over neoprene palms and fingers. John B. says they are an "interim" version between the first prototypes and the ones he just bought.

Neoprene is discomforting over time. And the interim generation gloves did not feel as warm as the first Frankenstein pair. However in their favor, the neoprene gloves did not give me shocks like the Frankenstein gloves. I swear they were leaking voltage into my fingers and the backs of my hands. Every now and then I got a little zap.

Now the proud owner of three pairs of Gerbing glove liners, John B. is looking to sell one pair to me.

But as is the case with most product development, the liners keep getting better with each new generation. The newest pair that John just bought use Gerbing's microwire system, a far cry from the cloth and tacked-on fat wires in the prototype liners. The tiny slivers of steel that convert electricity into heat are imbedded in light leather.

The jury's still out. I am convinced the glove liners in hippo hands is a great idea. You can wear comfortable lightweight gloves that don't feel like trying to ride in catcher's mitts. But I covet John's newest glove liners. I need to put a few more miles on his interim generation glove liners. Maybe John will rent them to me for a ride or two! Or maybe I can rent with an option to buy. Even if they're warmer, the Frankenstein glove liners are just too ugly.

John B. was even farther in left field when he tried to teach us one more thing. He tried to teach us motorcycle colors. John K. went to tease John J. about riding a "purple" motorcycle. Unexpectedly, B. vociferously jumped to J.'s defense. It seems B. had a purple Harley himself at one time . . . uh, I mean a cobalt blue Harley. Well I was thinking like K. that J.'s bike was looking pretty purple. That is until we came upon a Honda while walking through the parking lot toward our brunch. Yep. Those Honda guys. Now THEY do purple proud.

Grumpy earned his patch Sunday. John K. and I turned in blood points from Saturday. We made a run down to West Orange to donate in the Polar Bear club's name. For us it's three extra points. Only you should have seen K.'s eyes go wide when he heard the details of apheresis donation.

While recovering from our whole blood donation at the Blood Center of New Jersey we got to chatting with a fellow from Chicago who turned out to be the guy who invented the apheresis machine in use at the Blood Center.

Three bonus points every three weeks? Why that would be like making an extra Polar Bear run every month. It would save John from buying that cabin in New Hampshire and riding with Randy just to run up extra points.

Watch out Flight Leaders. John K.'s mind is spinning with new possibilities.

Me? I'm just hoping to earn that gold patch, what with the weather we've been having this season.

It's Super Bowl Sunday and so John J. was thinking he would skip the ride. But he's come to the Polar Bears late in the game this season and can use the points. Maybe Emily will let him out to play with us if we promise to have him home before kick-off. If you want to come along, meet us at the Dunkin' Donuts in Stratford, I-95, Exit 30 at the corner of Lordship Blvd. and Honeyspot Rd. We leave at 9:30 a.m.

In his article in the Fort Dix Post, David Moore references our "Connecticut Polar Bear Blog." So I figured I would do a Google search just to see if it showed up. It does, first link. But scrolling around I found a few other items of interest.

Apparently the USS Connecticut (SSN-22) Seawolf class submarine encountered a polar bear ― the furry kind ― when the sub surfaced through Arctic ice.

The blogspot entry also has photos of an encounter between Submarine Honolulu and three bears. But these bears did not try their their teeth on the sub's steel.

Wait! If you did not see the Polar Bear Follow Up tacked onto the end of last week's blog, click the link or scroll up just a bit. It's worth the trip. When you're done, scroll back down to here. I'll wait.

Sunday was bee-yew-tee-full! Skies were not cloudy all day. (Neither was a discouraging word heard.) We turned out a very nice crowd of bikes: 11 Harleys and one, uh-hem, Honda.

I wonder what John Howard thought as he saw all those big bikes roaring down on him as he waited for us at the bus stop off the I-287 ramp.

There were so many of us, The Exchange did not have a table big enough to seat us family style. Instead we were scattered over several lunch tables. Plus I got served last for lunch. Then at our Chez GSP stop, Angie and Dan, along with a bunch of other riders decided to head straight home instead of coming inside for a coffee.

All those excuses are to explain away this travesty: I did not get a chance to talk hardly at all to our rookie bears this week. I said a very few words to Angie. Dan, I'm sorry to say, received little more from me than a "hello" acknowledging his presence. Nancy I visited with more.

Yes I write for a living. Yes I know better. But this blog is writing for recreation.

I believe it was Voltaire who said, "Writing is like sex. At first you do it because you love it. Then you do it for a few friends. But eventually you do it for the money."

In this space, I can do it for pleasure and on my own terms.

Fortunately I know our two rookie riders from The Harley Owners Group, Bridgeport, Connecticut Chapter 0535.

Angie DeCecco made CT Bear history, such as it is, by being our first woman rider to come on a Polar Bear excursion.

Angie heads Ladies of Harley, the subgroup of our HOG Chapter serving the special needs of females. In our brief conversation, I gather she had a good time. The true test for Polar Bears is the same as for parachutists; we'll have to see if she makes a second ride.

Other women previously joining the CT Bears have been passengers.

We of course welcome all comers. Although I was a bit taken aback at first with Nancy's apparent decision to bring her cat along on the ride.

As she was sitting behind Bernie on his big gold Harley, it looked liker her cat had escaped from somewhere inside her jacket and then was trying to climb up on top of her head, I guessed out of some panic at finding itself speeding down the freeway in the cold.

I watched amazed as this animal flailed around her head.

It turned out to be not a cat but a fox. And despite it's animated appearance at speed, it is not even alive. All the skin is there, from nose to tail including the paws. But the rest of the fox, bones, muscle and guts, is gone.

What a great riding decoration!

I had at times adorned my Harley with different animal tails: raccoon, fox and coyote. But it never occurred to me to hang the rest of the animal off the bike.

After I figured out the animal act in my rear view mirror, I settled in for the ride down to Jersey.

For us it is a comfortable route. We get to skirt around New York City, an unusual treat for Connecticut Bears.

Johnny B. did a good job of managing a line of a dozen bikes. That's no easy task. We probably should have broken the group in two.

Kenny did a good job of sweeping, clearing lanes and helping us pass as a group.

We have a few annoying cagers cut our line now and then.

But all in all it was a pretty smooth ride down and back.

Johnny B. did have a moment where his GPS was not fast enough. While waiting for the unit to indicate a left or right turn, Grumpy rode right up the middle.

John K. has left no stone unturned to earn Polar Bear points. He had hoped to donate blood year round. Then he learned about a new kind of blood donation that lets you donate much more often.

But our Polar Bear Grand Tour organizers made a ruling that since the sign-in form developed years ago only had four spaces for blood donations that was the cap.

John K. was okay with the ruling; he lives by and for rules. All was well and good. Then Flight B Leader Rich made some wisecrack about John K. maybe could earn more bonus blood points if he brought the blood to Rich.

Before you get too excited,  John and Sue made a mock-up using an actual blood bag filled with colored water. Rich suggested vodka-spiked Jell-O would have been a better choice.

So we should set a 9:00 a.m. departure.

Usual Dunkin' Donuts, Stratford, CT, Interstate-95, Exit 30, corner of Lordship Blvd. and Honeyspot Rd.