Polar Bear Blog 2006/7

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

For the first time this season, Polar Bear riders faced Polar Bear conditions. As we left Stratford, Conn. for a 2-hour ride the ambient temperature was 16 degrees Fahrenheit. At 60 miles per hour on the bikes that translated into minus 11 wind chill.

Sitting in my detached, unheated garage, the Harley TwinCam needed to crank a bit before she'd fire. Following Bridgeport Harley Shop Manager Donnie's advice, I held down the starter button until the Springer finally acquiesced.

She was probably thinking I was crazy, as cold as it was. But I signaled my insistence by holding the button and forcing the starter. Finally she gave in, started with a roar and never complained again the whole day long.

You'd think she would know better. This is my fifth season riding Polar Bear. Even so, Sunday was the second coldest ride I have done. In year two, Bob B. and I started out in single digit temperatures.

The "theme" of this week's ride was, "How hard it is to remember something you only do once a year."

I loaded the directions into my mirror navigation device with my red grease pencil the night before and offered to lead. (You'll have to look at the Hopewell blog entry if that sentence makes no sense to you. Scroll down a bit for a picture of my simple yet effective navigational device. Go ahead, click the link, I'll wait. Just remember to click back to "North Brunswick" when you're done.)

Based upon a few refinements I learned by leading the Hopewell ride, I added more information to my mirror directions. Unfortunately, I forgot to include the counterintuitive Route 18  NORTH to go SOUTH distinction.

So I headed up the Route 18 North ramp when a memory bubbled up from deep storage. It started out more like a queasy feeling at first. A strange premonition, a growing sensation that something is WRONG! So I dove for the shoulder, good thing Joe was paying attention. Conferring with my fellow Bears, they confirmed my misdirection. Fortunately we were still very close to the split and were able to sneak across to the desired lane.

Johns B. and K. both ordered the chicken club sandwich. It was of course the same Sir John's chicken club they had ordered the year before. And last year they were disappointed to find the chicken in the club is not sliced meat but chicken salad instead. Sir John's is faithful to its recipe, the sandwich has not changed. Only the Johns forgot last year's disappointment when they ordered this year's sandwich . . . until it appeared before them.

If you're reading this and haven't joined us yet on a PB ride and still are wondering if you want to try it, you must know the other guys with various types of electric gloves were comfortable. John B. rides with electric liners inside leather gloves. Joe rode with electric glove liners just inside his hippo hands. And Ken rode with the same type gloves I have, full leather electric gloves with his hands out in the wind. So have no fear of cold!

Obviously this means either my gloves are not working as well as they should be or I have a lower tolerance for cold or both. At the end of the season I'll try to remember to send my gloves off to Gerbing for a check-up. Seems to me I meant to do that at the end of last season. Must've slipped my mind!

So far Johns B. & K. and I (Chris) have perfect attendance. John K. has only a slight point advantage, having given blood one time more than I. However by virtue of a longer ride from his house in the valley, Johnny B. is ahead of me, second in the points standing.

Joe earned his patch a couple rides back. And Ken went over the 30-point mark on this ride. Both have a good shot at the 45-point gold rocker.

Actually, I'm hoping for a nice weekday snow that is early enough in the week for all the roads to be cleared so we can ride, but still sticking around to make a nice background for pictures. I always like to submit at least a few HOG ABCs pictures with snowy backgrounds. (At right is one of my favorites from a PB run in 2004.) I figure Milwaukee can't see that many ABCs photos with snow. By the by, I got my 2006 official confirmation: 73 points, my third best showing in four years of competing.

So let's set an 8:35 a.m. departure time to make it in time for sign-in. We want to make sure we have time for lunch there. The Officer's Club offers a lavish buffet at a very reasonable (government subsidized?) price.

Please make for darn sure to have your photo ID with you this Sunday. I have seen various levels of security concern at the fort in past years, from having to be on a pre-approved PB list with each of us displaying an ID, to just announcing who we are and being waved ahead.

It turned out to be a beautiful Polar Bearing day! Our distance just squeaked over 300 miles, so we picked up a big five points. John K. earned his 60 point pin. Johnny B. had his beloved Sony camera back. Chris' bike had some new goodies. Life seemed especially sweet Sunday. Well, except for that part about John K. getting carried off by a hawk. And John B.'s hurtful hippo hands hilarity.

Sun shone brightly in Connecticut as we started out, relegating the danger to shady spots. With a bit of ginger riding technique we were soon on our way.

Our Fort Dix ride is probably 90 percent interstate highways. The fort itself is located just a few miles off of the New Jersey Turnpike, Exit 7.

Familiar territory. Even so, I opted to make what I could of the scenery. It's there, along the Turnpike and Garden State.

On the northern Garden State you glimpse groomed corporate campuses. In the center there's an amazingly overpopulated cemetery in the Oranges. Onto the Turnpike and apartment buildings are replaced by truck terminals of gigantic proportions. The New York Times may be written in New York City, but it is printed and distributed from New Jersey. At the southern end of our ride, Fort Dix is in the flat farmlands that gave Jersey its Garden State nickname.

The Mary Murray ferry was commissioned in 1937 and beached here in 1982. Next to her is a yacht said to be once owned by the Shah of Iran. Rumors are Mary Murray's owners planned to convert her into a nightclub or restaurant. Instead she is relegated to serving as a storage warehouse for scrap metal, garage doors retrofitted on either end, a forlorn curiosity mystery to multitudes whizzing by on the turnpike.

If you are curious, here are a couple of web sites with more information:

Even so, there is joy in motorcycling interstates, if you have the desire or willingness to look for it. Or maybe the joy is found in the companions and their stories. Or perhaps it is just in the pleasure of cruising in 40-degree weather when most other motorcyclists are reading magazines and dreaming of warmer days.

Not that it's all about the food, however Club Dix is one of my favorite destinations. What happened to that New Year's diet resolution? I could have bicycled down here and still not burned off enough calories. Yummy! Ah well, live to ride and ride to eat.

This Sunday he earned his third 60-point pin. John approached sign-in saying he was "ready to be pinned." Our Flight B leaders had a bit of fun making him wait for it. After a bit of good natured ribbing, Rich finally dug out a pin and John, beaming, stuck it on his PB vest.

With the threat of snow on this ride, John K. was worried. An automobile trip would have put him at 59 points, one shy of the pin. Flakes never fell.

John B. and I should cross the 60-point threshold this coming Sunday.

Flight Leader Dave remarked to John K. that he was at the end of his awards for this year. But John quickly responded he still strives to earn the perfect attendance pin. No CT Polar Bear has yet earned one of those.

Barring unforeseen circumstances, both Johns and I (Chris) should make perfect attendance. Those pins are handed out at the PB Banquet at season's end, so John K. will have to settle for NOT earning that particular distinction first. Johnny B. hopes they hand them out alphabetically!

Other news of note this Sunday was John B.'s delight in getting his Sony camera back from service.

He was shooting up a storm of pictures, including taking shots as lame as the awning in front of the dining hall.

I bought them at a discount at Bridgeport Harley's Christmas HOG sale, had them installed at winter service discounts and they still cost a fortune.

My fellow riders responded by not noticing. Ouch!

I was proud and excited by my accomplishment, until John B. made an analogous reference that will forever stain my brain. At least my hands will be warmer.

Now I know how my wife Cynthia feels when she gets a new haircut and I don't notice.

Finally there is one more good story out of Sunday's run. John K. was nearly carried away by a hawk. On the ride home, just before pulling into the last rest station on the Garden State Parkway, John B. was leading, John K. was in the middle and I had a commanding view of it all from the sweep position.

To make a very nice tie back into the beginning of this blog entry, there is plenty of scenery, even wildlife, along the Interstates if you make an effort to notice.

Well Sunday a big raptor went for John K. I saw it all and I swear to you this hawk deliberately dove at John's head. Maybe it's the white helmet.

I further swear that the hawk came within three feet, perhaps as close as two, of the top of John's head.

The bird wasn't exactly diving from high up, going for a kill. It was more cruising at tree-top level and must have thought John was a snack worth investigating. It sort of glided across the road then turned a wing, swooping at John's head.

My guess is that the hawk probably figured that while it could take John it would never be able to also lift his Harley.

Next Sunday's ride is to The Exchange in Rockaway, NJ. The restaurant is just one mile off of Route 80, but we can't get there from 80. We have to take a suburban shunt on Route 46. So it looks like we'll be riding mostly Interstate again with a shot of strip-mall diversity.

MapQuest says just under two hours, just under 100 miles. With the Tappan Zee figured in, we're probably just over both marks.

So let's set a 9:35 a.m. departure, Dunkin Donuts in Stratford.

Medieval castles had a "keep," a fortress within the fortress. If the outer and inner walls were breached, the keep was a defense of last resort. The king and nobles and what fighting men were left all retreated to the keep and tried to hold on until help arrived or hope despaired.

 In the 1878 Anglo-Zulu war a contingent of just 145 British troops held their border post at Rorke's Drift against untold thousands of Zulu warriors armed with hide shields and wooden spears. After 10 hours of horrific fighting, what was left of the British defenders put their backs against the wall of a small building, formed ranks and even though they had breech-loading rifles made a last-ditch desperate defense by resorting to a fighting technique developed for muskets a hundred years earlier: firing by ranks.

An cool-headed officer formed them into two tight rows facing their enemy and chanted out the cadence: First row fire! Kneel. Second row fire! First row stand up. First Row Fire! Kneel. Faced with this disciplined mechanistic threat of withering destruction the Zulu hoards retreated. Eleven defenders were awarded the Victoria Cross.

I lofted up the insulation, dropped a chemical hand warmer packet into each and stuck them into my hairy hippo hands for the ride home.

But first I also pulled out my waterproof windproof jacket liner and zipped and velcroed that overtop my electric jacket and then my leather jacket over both.

That's it. I have no other cold weather protection, either in my saddlebags or in my head. I'm out of ideas.

I don't know what the temperature was over the Tappan Zee. Usually that's the coldest part of our trip, up over the Hudson and then around the base of the Ramapo Mountains. There was a pretty stiff wind over the bridge.

For the ride over, I was reluctant to pull out my mittens and wind-proof jacket liner. Instead I figured to give my new hairy hippo hands a try. (If you have no idea what I'm talking about, read the Fort Dix entry above.)

On top of that discomfort, I had committed another insulation faux pas. As if my unfounded confidence in polyester fur wasn't enough, about the time we reach Stamford, 30 minutes south of our starting point, I realize I have forgotten a layer of insulation.

Described before in this blog, this final set of underwear is near bullet-proof. It is fleecy on the inside and tightly-woven on the outside making it very wind resistant.

Unfortunately as I got dressed last Sunday morning my lovely wife Cynthia, lying fetchingly warm under the covers in our bed, engaged me in sweet conversation. I was so distracted I forgot my pants!

My only consolation was that I was not alone. Johnny B. our ride leader this week admitted he too was cold on the ride over. He was sorely tempted by a Dunkin' Donuts sign along 287.

But Tom-Tom told him we had just 20 miles to go. So he decided to gut it out the rest of the way.

Our coffee break, plus the success of my last line of cold defense, worked their magic. Oh and it was four degrees warmer in Stratford when I got home compared to when I left. All in all, I'm ready for this Sunday's ride, predicted to be not as cold as last.

So we should plan to leave at 9:05, a half-hour earlier. That will be difficult enough for me.

My folks are in town this weekend. They're coming to see my daughter Annie cheer at the local High School basketball game. Go Red Devils!

They will NOT be happy about me sneaking out Sunday morning. "Mom, it's PERFECT attendance. I can't miss a single ride! I'll get a pin for my motorcycle vest! All the other boys will be riding!" She just doesn't understand.

To steal a joke from Russ, I am afraid my folks will kidnap me and take me to a deprogrammer in an undisclosed location. Maybe they think the same therapist that got Ted Haggard off of male masseuses can fix my "motorcycle affliction."

Hello Chris,

Well I must say you guy's are quite a bunch. I am a Harley owner here in NJ and would have considered myself a cold weather rider as I do ride mostly all winter long until I see you what you guys have done, that's extreme. I became familiar with your stories only after being nudged by fellow workers whom have rode the PB rides. Well , you folks I admire, what amazing stories and laughs just reading about the adventures you have encountered through the miles. I cannot wait for the next story about the previous Sunday rides, speaking of this where the heck is this weeks story, I need my CT PB story. Without a doubt you all deserve perfect attendance, although we have had a mild winter to start, it sure has been a cold last few Sundays. This last weekend as I sat waiting for the big game, I could not help to look out at my Classic and think, here I am toasty as heck, and my thoughts were thinking now I wonder where the CT gang is about now, and if any low flying predators were searching for victims lol.... Living in NJ all my life I find it comical to see your pics and quotes about certain roads , exits and landmarks you see on the way down. Well hopefully I will soon hookup and meet you all in person at one of the runs, however until then continue to ride safe and please continue the weekly story. Be well and be safe, cant wait to read on.....

February cold does not frighten me. As I write this Wednesday after our Sunday PB run, ice pellets are accumulating, TV weathermen offer dire forecasts and temperatures are poised to plunge. This recent snap of artic weather is but a passing fart of winter.

Now November freezes scare the crap out of me. So cold. So soon. So much winter left. December and January winter blasts fill me with despair. Spring seems so long in coming.

But February? Well . . . who's afraid of February? Two more Polar Bear rides and it will be March.

Heck, this winter was a 90 pound weakling anyway. I've saved enough on the heating budget so far to crank the thermostat to 74! So let's see what you've got left for us.

Oh, I admit you may still have some fight left in you. Winter is notorious for springing March blizzard surprises. Just when we let our guard down and start to put away winter coats, wham!

All too soon Polar Bear Grand Tour 2006 – 2007 will be history. We'll have the banquet. We'll eat and laugh and tell stories and recall a warmer than normal riding season. Guys fortunate enough to do Daytona will show off their glove tans. I'll collect my first perfect attendance pin. Polar Bear Club Founder Bob Hartpence will offer his annual presentation, "How to Store Your Motorcycle for Summer."

When my blink is broken by the impatient idiot beeping his horn behind me, I'll ease out the clutch a bit, paddle walk the bike forward a few feet, then smile. Because being on a motorcycle in any traffic and in any weather is better than being stuck in a car.

The Landslide Saloon was a pretty good stretch for the CT Bears. Perhaps this week we were better prepared because no one complained about the cold, even though the ride over was a half-hour longer than last week. www.LandslideSaloon.com

Joe made his first ride last year, using cold weather riding skills he learned riding Polar Bear with us. I have ridden down twice, but work will get in the way this year. Johnny B. plans his vacation time around two motorcycle events every year, Daytona and Sturgis. He trailers down because he's afraid of iffy weather. Hey, that's half the fun!

Soon a Daytona mood took hold. The next thing I know, our willing waitress Mandy was showing us some of her tattoos. Thank you dear. Made our day!

The fun continues next week at Hooters in South Wayne, NJ. If you have been wanting to try a Polar Bear ride with the Connecticut crew, Hooters is our closest destination.

Mapquest says just 75 miles. It will be a bit more than that because we're not taking the GW Bridge. From the Tappan Zee we go down the GSP to 80 and then only a little west. Riding time is 1 1/2 hours.

If you are on the CT PB e-mail list you should have received this via that option. But in case you missed it, there are a few important concerns for this Sunday's ride.

This Sunday’s destination is hOOters! It is our closest Polar Bear destination. Mapquest says just 77 miles and 1 ½ hours riding time. We may squeak just a bit over that by taking the Tappan Zee.

If you have been waiting to try a Polar Bear ride, this Sunday may not be the warmest, but will be the closest. Temperature should be in the twenties on the ride over and maybe squeak over thirty for the ride home.

YES! I intend to take my bike! 

I haven’t spent the past two days chiseling a path from my dry garage to the dry street just to wimp out and take the car! I have maybe 20 yards more to hack out Saturday, so I can ride Sunday. My neighbors are all laughing at me because I’ve only cut out a motorcycle-wide path, less than half my driveway’s actual width. The rest can wait ‘till spring!

Actually the hardest bit of snow-ice removal was getting an area just in front of the garage big enough to turn the bike around. Every season I pick up a new tip. From now on, I BACK the bike into the garage in winter. That little mistake probably cost me two hours of intense aerobic exercise . . . not that I can’t use the exercise. I just hope I can still lift my arms high enough to reach the motorcycle grips on Sunday.

Most all the side roads here in Stratford are mostly all dry. The Interstates should be fine. Our destination is located on a main state route right off of Interstate Route 80. So I don’t anticipate any snow-ice troubles unless it is in the parking lots. That said, there is one serious hazard!!!!! Leave lots of following distance between you and any cars or trucks. Ice sheets can unexpectedly fly off of cars and trucks – trucks are the worst. I have dodged a few in my Polar Bear days, never been hit yet. But some of the big truck ones look like they could knock you right off the bike. Also, the ice sheets typically leave a patch on an otherwise dry and clear highway. The way these ice sheets fly up in the air, the Jersey barriers won’t hold them back. So if you’re in the left lane, watch for ice sheets from traffic moving in the opposite direction.

(By the way, if there is a layer of snow or ice on the hood or roof of your car, you are a lazy, inconsiderate, selfish, so-and-so! C’mon! How long does it take to clear off the whole car including the roof and hood and back deck? If you have some giant SUV and can’t reach the roof don’t cry to me and don’t endanger your fellow drivers or riders. Get your ass up a step ladder and clean it off. You should have thought of that when you bought the monster in the first place!)

One annoyance, we will likely pick up some salt or calcium chloride riding this Sunday. Quit whining! I intend to stop by Bridgeport Harley tomorrow to buy a big can of S100 foam. It’s easy to apply and rinse off. If we don’t dawdle too much ogling the Hooters girls’ hooters, we should get home before the temperature drops below freezing and you can wash your bike if you’re so concerned. Actually I have washed my bike in below freezing weather. Just wear your good waterproof rain gloves and think ahead about moving the bike into the garage. Because once you’re done washing, you’ll find your bike in the middle of a frozen pond!

There is a rumor of snow squalls or flurries for Sunday morning. Unless it is plowable snow, or unless the forecast worsens, I plan to be at Dunkin’ Donuts by 10:05 am Sunday.

Week 15 Bears stop for a HOG ABC's of Touring photo on Route 287 headed home.
From left: John K., Chris (blog author) and Johnny B.

Was that the worst digging snow you've ever seen? I don't know about your driveway. But in mine I could not simply shovel the stuff. We had like four inches of packed sleet crusted off with solid ice.

First I had to bust up the alluvial layers to get it cleared. I used my lawn edging tool to chop at an edge and kept working that in the direction I hoped to clear. Then I shoveled or pushed the ice chunks off to one side. Mostly they were too heavy to lift. I didn't think the end of the driveway plowed in by the town snowplows would ever get clear.

Fortunately I needed only to clear a wide enough path to get the bike out Sunday for a Polar Bear ride. The rest is waiting for spring thaw.

By the way, Roorda observes that Type 2 affects only Harley riders. "The only upside to the disease is that as an old fart you've probably got the funds to score some immediate relief," he adds.

Guilty as charged.

Well not entirely. I had motorcycle fever in my teen years too. It was "Then Came Bronson" that fueled my fever. "Goin' down that long, lonesome highway, bound for the mountains and the plains. Goin' to live life my way, and I won't be comin' back this way again. One of these days I'm gonna settle down, but 'till I do I won't be hangin' round . . . ."

Unfortunately I have a mother who believes that motorcycles are equivalent to instant death. It took me 40-some years to tell her I was buying a bike.

You New Jersey guys will get a kick out of this. On a whim when I first moved to Jersey I took the Jeep to the inspection lane just like that: no doors or top and the windshield folded flat. You should have seen the inspectors trying to figure out if that was legal or not.

Even so configured, the Jeep was still no Harley.

When I finally got a bike in 2002 I took to riding as a long drink by a man exiting the desert. Once the joy of riding was found I was not about to put the bike away for half the year. I've waited too long to start.

And so I find myself a dedicated Polar Bear. Every winter Sunday I thank the volunteers who have the vision and dedication to give me a plausible reason to ride. Well, at least I think riding Polar Bear is valid. Many other folks, including my family, do not agree.

Sunday's ride was to Hooters in South Wayne, NJ, another fantasy outlet for old farts.

An appropriately bubbly and built Hooters Girl attended our luncheon needs.

Our numbers were once again limited to the three of us going for perfect attendance. Maybe it was the very difficult to clear snow that kept the others away.

Overall attendance was rather light this Sunday. Perhaps other Polar Bears could not clear their driveways either. Or the polar cubs decided not to brave the cold; it was in the twenties for our departure and just cracked freezing on the ride home. Or maybe it was a predicted threat of snow.

We found from wives and girlfriends back home that it did snow in Connecticut, hard, for about 15 minutes.

So far as snow or ice, we found it in only three locations. One was the Hooter's parking lot. Fortunately it is more than large enough to avoid any bad spots. Another was on the way over when a big ice sheet flipped off the roof of an SUV right in front of us. Fortunately we had enough following distance to easily avoid it. Using sign language and icy stares we shared a few choice thoughts with the driver. The third snow and ice patch was the most troublesome.

Since the afternoon was not all that bad, 30-some degrees, mixed sun and clouds, I drug my two companions along to get a HOG ABCs of Touring photo, actually two, with snow in the background. As mentioned earlier in this blog, the Ramapo mountains make a beautiful backdrop when covered in snow.

So instead of following Route 80 back east to the Garden State Parkway, we headed on west to Route 287. My ABCs signs, New York State and Rockland County, are at the top of Route 287, just before it merges with 87.

We got our photo and then cranked the bikes up the sweeping curve on-ramp merge to Route 87. A truck must have earlier made the same curve too fast and dumped a rather large pile of snow and ice from its roof. A swath of slippery stuff covered the entire ramp side-to-side and a good 15 yards in length. Fortunately we saw the hazard in time, slowed dramatically and motored through with no troubles.

These people that cannot be bothered to clear their cars, SUVs and trucks after a storm are lazy, selfish and inconsiderate. I think after a storm the appropriate authorities should open all the truck inspection stations and write $1,000 tickets to any driver with a snow or ice covered rig. And the cops should pull over anyone trailing their own, personal mini-blizzard as snow blows off the roof of their automobile.

In just my part of Connecticut after the storm we had two incidences on I-95 of people with ice-smashed windshields going to the hospital, one a family with young children sprayed with glass. Meanwhile the offending truck goes blithely along the highway, never knowing or being held responsible for the trouble he has caused.

Crossing the Hudson on the Tappan Zee the past few weeks we can see ice floes in the river below. Those expansion joint fingers in the bridge's center just barely interlace.

But it can't last much longer. My momma used to say March came in like a lion and out like a lamb. Of course that was Delaware. In Connecticut that damn lion can hang around into May.