| Polar Bear Motorcycles by: Chris Loynd 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. Each week from the end of October to mid-April, we ride to a different destination, mostly in New Jersey. And then I write an e-mail to my fellow riders describing last week's adventures and sharing departure information for the upcoming Sunday ride. |
Me, Chris Loynd, on my |
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| This year I figured my Polar Bear (PB) missives would be a good
excuse to try this blogging thing. I enjoy writing and the antics of my
fellow Polar Bears usually provide good fodder. There were some pretty
good stories over the past years. But they were written in transient
e-mails now lost. This blog allows me to preserve some great
memories and to share them with my fellow Polar Bear riders, you, and
anyone else in the world. Enjoy! If you're interested in riding with us,
it is very informal. Each rider is responsible for his or her own safety.
We meet at the Stratford (CT) Dunkin' Donuts, I-95, Exit 30, at the corner
of Lordship Blvd., and Honeyspot Rd. To get on the e-mail list for weekly
departure times, contact
me: |
 Polar Bear Riders from 2004. Full face helmets, plenty of layers and electric clothing keep us toasty. |
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Rides:
Use your REFRESH button to see the latest entries. |
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| January 21: North Brunswick, NJ | |||
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Week 11 Bears (from left): Ken, Joe, Chris (blogger),
John K. and John B. |
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| We always knew it was out there, lurking, waiting to strike, and this
Sunday it finally showed: Winter! 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. Maybe the bike's starting to show a bit of wear. She's only a 2002, but this trip her odometer passed 95,000 miles. |
Ken earned his first Polar Bear patch this weekend. |
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| Ken earned his patch and rocker on this trip. Wear it with
pride. I've said before on this blog, there are only 500 some Polar Bears
in the club. There's nothing else like it in the country that I know of.
And while certainly others ride in winter without the excuse of a club
destination, being a Polar Bear is still very exclusive. And being a
Connecticut Polar Bear is even more distinctive. 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. It wasn't until we got to the restaurant and Grumpy (John B.) was disappointed with his chicken club sandwich that I realized I made the same mistake in navigation on this very same ride before. (It's okay to call John B. "Grumpy." That's his official nickname and he's so proud of it he has it tattooed on his arm.) |
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| Hit me like a flash! Ya know? I thought that mistake felt familiar. 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. Those who do not remember the past are condemned to repeat it. And I don't know about your memory, but I have little confidence that I will not fall for Route 18 South again next year. Maybe the Johns will do better with their chicken clubs. I'll keep this year's blog up so we can read it next year, before the ride. |
Our happy waiter delivers chicken club sandwiches |
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| The other thing I had forgotten that I knew, is my
electric gloves just don't cut it at these extreme temperatures. Even
cranked at full power and hidden in hippo hands, my fingertips were
uncomfortably cold on the ride down. For the ride back I supplemented
electric heat with a chemical booster. And the hand warmer packets tucked
inside helped immensely. And as I was cruising along more than halfway
home it occurred to me: "Yikes! I had this trouble with gloves on that
really cold ride last year." 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! |
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| As ride number 11, Sir John's marks the halfway point of our 22-ride
season. 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. There are three long-distance rides left: Fort Dix next weekend just squeaks over a 300-mile roundtrip ride for five points, Brian's Harley-Davidson the same, then the Cape May kicker for 6 points. |
This week we had Flight Leader Rich take OUR picture, |
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| There is still plenty of PB season left. And Old Man Winter may still
throw some cold or snow or ice at us. 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. It takes a bit of luck in timing to have a snowy and safe ride. And you risk riding through clouds of salt dust, especially now, since the State of Connecticut has decided to stop using sand and instead will apply only salt for snow removal. |
Snowy 2004 PB ride offered unique ABCs photo for HOG. |
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| Up here in Connecticut we've already had enough snow dustings to make
the roads white with salt. Ken said something about having to shovel out
his driveway. Here on the coast, snow barely stuck to roads. But mornings
were icy and spreader trucks, perhaps anxious for action, laid down a
sodium chloride carpet. Until there's a rain we might as well get used to
riding through it. There's always the S100 foam and a good rinsing cure. I may get my wish this weekend. As of today, Wednesday, there is a chance of snow for tomorrow, Thursday. Depending upon how much we get (and we don't expect much) it may melt away on a sunny Saturday. Unfortunately there is a chance of snow on Sunday as well. We will have to play it by ear. Those of us going for perfect attendance will carpool if we can't ride. Others are welcome to join us, space permitting. |
A little pre-lunch conversation. |
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| While we can make the distance to Fort Dix on a single tank of
gas, we may still want a rest stop along the way, even on the ride down.
So I'm figuring Fort Dix will be at close to a 3-hour ride one-way. Plus
Johnny B. is on days. 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. See you Sunday, snow or shine! |
If it snows Sunday, we'll have to make a round of |
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We may have to make a round of cell
phone calls Saturday, |
Flight B Leader Dave, back at his post. |
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Seems like John B.'s photos caught
everyone deep in thought |
John K. appears perplexed. |
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I'm not sure what I (Chris) was
thinking. |
Can you guess what Ken is thinking? |
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| January 28, Fort Dix, NJ: | |||
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Week 12 Bears (from left): John K.,
Chris (blogger) and John B. |
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Closer view of Week 12 Bears (from
left): Chris (your author), John K. and Johnny B. |
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| Threat of snow, surgery, family obligations, work and other conflicts diminished the CT Bears' week 12 crew to
the three striving for perfect attendance. 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. Weather was beautiful. Mixed clouds and sun. A nice 40-plus degree temperature. That's cold enough so you don't sweat in all your gear, but not so cold you can't stay comfortably warm for the whole ride. It was of course a bit colder in the morning, but not terribly so. In fact, the air temperature was above freezing, so we were surprised. |
Home to U.S. Army basic training and |
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| Be careful! There was a bit of icy glaze as we started out
early Sunday morning, even though the air temperature was well above
freezing. Interstates were dry. But local roads were slippery. Up in the
valley, Johnny B. had to deice his driveway to get out Sunday morning. 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. We become inured by urban sprawl, too fast traffic and distractions of our cages. We forget to pick out the woodlands and marshlands and farmlands. There is scenery of interest and beauty if you choose to see it. Maybe a motorcycle makes you more aware, more willing to search for scenery along every road you travel. |
Blog author just off the bike at Fort Dix. |
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| You can see deeper into the scenery in winter. Underbrush and tree
leaves are stripped away. Amazing sights lay exposed, even along these
urban super slabs. 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. Then there's the "Mary Murray" ghost ship Staten Island Ferry, abandoned on the Raritan River and visible from the North-bound turnpike near New Brunswick, Exit 9. She lays there, her orange-yellow paint still surprisingly bright. |
The "Mary Murray" you can see from NJ Turnpike. |
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| Mary Murray, for whom the ferry is named, was a
Revolutionary War hero. She wined and dined British General Howe at her
estate in Midtown Manhattan, deviously delaying him and his troops, buying time for
Continentals to sneak supplies uptown to reinforce General Washington
bivouacked in Harlem Heights. 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:
Admittedly that's a big digression. I offer it to counter an honestly valid complaint about the CT Polar Bear rides. |
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| Due to distances involved, winter conditions and shortness of days,
most of our rides tend to the Interstates. It's not the same as a scenic
summertime cruise to nowhere. 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. Plus, we do ride a bit of countryside. GPS-enabled leaders have shown us some amazing back roads. A few years ago we tried to do Fort Dix via local roads. We got lost in Trenton and just barely made it in time for sign-in. They were packing up lunch and we had to scrounge. |
Our two Johns exit the buffet line. |
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| Club Dix serves a PB brunch you do not want to miss. Johnny B. said
the ham was delicious. I thoroughly enjoyed a southern-style breakfast
with biscuits and sausage gravy over grits. John K. had an amazing pile of
scrambled eggs. Made-to-order omelets were available.
The Army laid out a lavish spread of breakfast and lunch options. Just
$14.75. 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. I wonder if this is the chow disgraced former Bridgeport, Conn. Mayor Ganim and Senator Newton get? Disgraced former Gov. Rowland no longer resides here. |
Dessert anyone? |
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| Maybe that's why John K. stays so skinny. He rides for points instead
of food. 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! Personally I have a secret plan for next year that should leap-frog me ahead of John K. |
 Congratulations John K., 60-point pin! |
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| Next October while John will determine with mathematical precision how many
times he can make bonus-points-earning blood donations within the
duration of the legal Polar Bear season and limits of human health, I plan to
ask my Flight Leaders how many points I can get for a kidney. Shhh, don't
tell John! 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 should not tease him too much. For one thing, you will note his fine photos have graced these many pages many times. And the weekly group photo was his idea. For another thing, John B. didn't get that nickname for his sense of humor.) |
Photo by John B. Why? 'Cause he got his camera back! |
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| I was also excited to be riding my Heritage Springer with some new
bling-bling. Since 2002 I have ridden with the stock mirrors, searching
for something that struck my fancy. Harley's new LED enabled chrome
mirrors finally sold me. They act as both running lights and turn signals.
Added visibility, plus a nice shape and look. I was pleased! 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! Perhaps it is my fault. They were distracted by my hairy hippo hands. My hippo hands are (were?) just nylon with a thin foam backing. And last week (as noted in the blog) my fingertips were cold despite the added protection and electric gloves. |
One of John B's favorite photo subjects, |
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| So I experimented with adding a bit of insulation to my hippo hands. I
went to the fabric store and asked the cute girl there for the hairiest
stuff they had. She sold me a couple yards of fake fur that looks like it
came off a demented Chow-Chow. I then hand-stitched it into one of the
hippo hands. Insulation wise it worked great. 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. Hidden inside those hairy hippo hands are another bling-bling surprise not to be seen until warmer weather. I also got new grips with lighted ends. They also work as running lights and supplemental turn signals. Like the mirrors, I ran stock grips for years, never finding exactly something worthy of investing in an upgrade. |
In past years this dining hall has been nearly filled by
Bears. |
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| I mention this now, so that when warmer weather arrives my fellow
riders can offer me some small courtesy. Once the hairy hippo hands come
off, I don't need much. Maybe just a simple, "Nice grips!" 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. Often I see large birds of prey sitting atop a highway sign or telephone pole as I'm zipping along on my bike. Perhaps it is the greater field of view allowed by not having a roof over your head. One memorable ride up Interstate 95, stuck in the perpetual traffic jam near West Haven, I watched a hawk swooping in and out of a flock of pigeons that made amazing turns in unison to dazzle and escape the predator. |
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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. Russ, if you're reading this, John's bird encounter was way closer than our pheasant scare in New Hampshire. |
I often see hawks like this Cooper's Hawk |
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| So who says riding the Interstates isn't exciting? You're welcome to
join us. 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. Hope you can join us. Watch out for ice and hawks! |
John B. snapped this picture of John K. just before we left Fort Dix. Later John K. was nearly carried away by a giant bird of prey. Does premonition show in his face here? |
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It was John K's day. Here he signs-in
for 60-points. |
Whata 'ya mean you don't have any 60-point pins? |
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Count 'em, 1, 2, 3. Worn with pride on
John K's vest! |
Now it's on to his first Perfect Attendance pin! |
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Photo by John B. |
This trike looked like it was stretched. |
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Bears come on all types of bikes. |
Fellow Bears getting ready to go. |
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Bikes were coming in even as we were
leaving. |
See you next week! |
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February 4, Rockaway, NJ:
Week 13 Bears: Once again we were
limited to the Connecticut idiots going for perfect attendance, |
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| There is a great psychological reluctance to fall back on
your last line of defense. 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. Their Maginot Line bypassed, the French had no back-up defense. They surrendered. |
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| So it was with some trepidation that I pulled my North Face, down
filled, windproof, waterproof, leather palmed, mountaineering mittens out
of my saddlebags last Sunday in the parking lot of The Exchange in
Rockaway, NJ. 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. Fortunately my last line of cold defense held. I was "comfortably chilled" for the ride home. |
Cold? You're darn right I'm cold! Chris, your author,
after the ride over last Sunday, 2 hours at 20 degrees at highway speeds. |
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| I wasn't so lucky on the ride over. When we left Stratford, Conn. the
local temperature was 20 degrees. Two hours in that at highway speeds is
cold, I don't care who you are. 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.) Hairy hippo hands were not up to the task. |
Suiting up for the ride home. I hope my jacket zipper |
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| Even with chemical packets supplementing my electric gloves, imbedded
in my newly fake-fur-lined hippo hands, my fingertips were hurting by the
time we reached New Jersey. 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. My first clue was discomfort in my crotch. My testicles, which dropped at the onset of my fiftieth year, were now trying to retreat inside my body with youthful exuberance not seen since my teens. With a flash of clarity I realized I was missing a critical pair of pants. |
Out of insulation options, I got home "warm"
nevertheless. |
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| Two weeks ago when it was 16 degrees at our start, my legs
and "lower torso" (shall we say?) were warm. I was wearing double silk
long johns, double Bergelene insulated underwear and my favorite topper
� a set of polypropylene pants. (Overtop of all
goes nylon riding pants with a quilted liner.) 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! Stamford was too far to turn back. So I toughed it out. And my legs and the parts of me attached immediately above them were on the short edge of comfort for the entire ride. I won't make that mistake again! |
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| Geeze, even my toes started to get cold as we pulled into Rockaway.
Yet they were buried under silk socks, heavy insulated socks and sitting
atop two sets of chemical warmers inside snowmobile boots. 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. Even John K., perhaps the toughest of our bunch, who does these rides without electrics, let slip a comment about his, "toes being gone." |
Even John K. let slip that he might have been cold last
week. |
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| Usually we're good for 150-plus miles at a stretch, even in bitter
cold. But on the way home no one objected to a coffee break at Chez GSP,
last rest stop at the top of the Garden State Parkway. 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. It has always amused me that people tend to discount the value of 10 degrees in winter. But 30 degrees (Sunday's predicted high) is a whole lot warmer than 20 degrees. If you scoff at that, and many people do, consider it in summer terms. Would you say a 90-degree day feels a lot more oppressive than an 80-degree one? |
"Yeah honey, I made it. Yes, I was cold." |
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| Our destination is another half-hour south this coming Sunday,
Pattenburg (Mapquest says Asbury), NJ., on Route 78 below Route 80. 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." Side Note: I suppose I should have considered that more than our Connecticut Bears would be reading this blog. I am flattered to receive some complimentary e-mails. Glad you're enjoying our adventures! Check below the pictures for a message from Matthew looking for Daytona riding buddies. |
See hun? Women DO ride Polar Bear! |
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Are we finally receiving some true
Polar Bear weather? |
Here are the very same cabbages. |
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Sign says, "Welcome Polar Bear MC." |
John K. revealed some very funny information . . . |
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| Fellow Polar Bear looking for
Daytona Riders:
Chris, |
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From Douglas:
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February 11, Pattenburg, NJ:
Week 14 Bears (from left): Chris (blog
author), John K., Joe and Johnny B. |
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| No Fear February 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. Earth is inexorably, inevitably, ineluctably tilting our hemisphere toward the sun's heat. These past three weeks of artic blast are nothing more than bravado, a flurry of rabbit punches. |
Who's afraid of February? Your blogger Chris, delayers
at our destination after 2 1/2 hours' riding at 16 degrees. |
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| It's the 11th round Old Man Winter. You got nothin' left. You know it.
I know it. Throw in the towel. The 12th round belongs to Spring. 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! But March snow is a freeze in the pan. A momentary inconvenience. |
Joe tightens up a leak in his hippo hands velcro. |
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| I can see May from March. It's not that far to riding in just the
leather jacket. No electrics. Oh it may be zipped up tight and maybe worn
over fleece in the morning and evening. But midday the vents are open as
sun heats black leather. 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." Sometime this coming August when I'm stuck in traffic on I-95 in sweltering heat with an air-cooled engine cooking between my legs, sweat rolling into my eyes will make me blink. |
John K. secures his gear after a cold ride last Sunday. |
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| And in that blink I will feel myself humming along
in Polar Bear weather. It's a crisp but not punishing 40-degree day. I'm
safely encased in my layers. The electric jacket radiates heat, its raised
collar warming my neck like a masseuse's hot towel. 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. So who cares that it was 16 degrees when we left last Sunday? John K., monitoring the temperature since early morning, noted that it was steadily declining! Usually you figure it gets warmer as the day goes on. |
Johnny B. (right) chats with a fellow rider waiting to sign in. |
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| Which in fact it did, but not until our afternoon ride home. In fact
the ride home was near freezing and thereby noticeably warmer. I actually
dialed back the thermostat for my jacket a quarter-turn. 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 Matthew, the rider looking for companion riders for his first Daytona pilgrimage, found us and introduced himself and sort of set the tone for lunch. (See the end of last week's entry.) |
Ya think Dave knew these were over his head all
day? |
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| In the process of offering Matthew whatever nuggets of Daytona wisdom
we could share, we all got to reminiscing our own Daytona travels. 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! Don't get excited. She did not show us all her artwork. Some she just pointed to indicate where it resided. Just a bit of flirtatious fun with the old guys. |
Our waitress Mandy and a small sample of her
artwork. |
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| Joe wanted to show her his artwork in exchange. It was all we could do
to make him keep his shirt on. 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. Weather wise the forecast looks about like last week, teens in the morning, about freezing in the afternoon. Right now the weather service is showing a 30 percent chance of snow in the morning. So we'll have to see what develops. Let's set a departure time of 10:05 a.m. Check below the pictures for a destination and weather update! |
It was all we could do to keep Joe from reciprocating. |
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Mandy served it up! Look at Joe's
eyes. |
Landslide Saloon girls are fun! |
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A bit of western appeal in the Garden
State. |
Landslide did Polar Bear right. Coffee and donuts at the
ready as we entered the door! Plenty of staff for prompt service. |
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Cold weather kept the PB crowd a
manageable size. |
Did you see the ducks on the ceiling? |
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Saw a bunch of riders from this club
this week. |
This bike caught John B.'s eye. |
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Flight B Leaders Rich and Dave at
sign-in. |
John's weekly picture of Bob! |
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John K. |
Chris, blog author. |
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| Destination and Weather Update: E-mailed February 16, 2024 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 � 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. If the snow looks questionable, feel free to give me a call AFTER 8:00 am and I will coordinate for those of us interested in going: 203-377-8852. If it is snow we simply can�t ride in, the three idiots (myself included) going for perfect attendance will car pool over to Jersey to sign in. |
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February 18, South Wayne, NJ:
Week 15 Bears stop for a HOG ABC's of
Touring photo on Route 287 headed home.
Week 15 Bears more comfortably ensconced at Hooters. |
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| My poor wife Cynthia just had to laugh when she returned home from
work Friday and drove into our driveway. Her car was immediately listing to one side
as she drove to her parking space at the back of the house.
One set of wheels was gripping, the other side slipping. She
discerned my motive in an instant. 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. Cynthia did not know she was marrying a motorcyclist. It was never even mentioned for the first 21 years of our marriage. |
I cleared my driveway only wide enough for a motorcycle. |
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| To borrow a line from Thunder Press Editor Terry Roorda,
I have Type 2 MF (Motorcycle Fever), a strain known as "Adult Onset MF and
. . . indistinguishable in many of its symptoms from MLC (Mid-Life
Crisis)." as described in Roorda's "Blue Dog Diaries" in the March 2007
issue. 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. Hopefully the 96,000 miles so far without any incident or accident (knock wood) is assuaging some of her fears. And she does like to have me visit � even on the bike � when a Polar Bear destination offers the opportunity. |
"Delightfully tacky, yet unrefined" pretty much says it
all! |
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| Oh, I tried to self-treat my Motorcycle Fever over the years. I tried
an MG and later a Jeep CJ. In the Jeep I would ride around with the top
down, the doors off and the windshield folded flat. 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. |
Threat of snow and an earlier ice storm maybe kept the attendance numbers down for Hooters last Sunday. |
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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. Ah well, that's my soap box soliloquy for today. |
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| Fortunately the deep freeze of the past few weeks seems to be abating.
This week I switched back from mittens to electric gloves and my
fingers were fine. 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. This Sunday's destination is Highlands, NJ. Mapquest says 2 1/2 hours, 115 miles, going by the GW bridge. We'll set a departure time of 9:05 a.m. And we may want to watch the weather forecast carefully. Right now they're calling for snow in the afternoon on Sunday. |
FREE the MASCOTS! |
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(Photo by John B.) |
(Photo by John B.) |
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Johnny B. busily snapping away. |
John K. is squinting from the sun. we sat in the greenhouse. |
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John K. and Bob. |
Chris buying his Banquet ticket. |
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Matthew, headed to Daytona soon,
joined us for lunch. |
Checking out the bikes. |
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Our Hooters girl. |
John K. later admitted he was a bit optimistic |
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Chris lines up the ABCs photo. |
Hurry! The timer's running. |
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