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.

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
very first Polar Bear ride.
To read the story of that
first ride, follow this link:
Polar Bear Story.

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:
Chris Loynd 203-377-8852,
[email protected]

Polar Bear Riders from 2004. Full face helmets, plenty of layers and electric clothing keep us toasty.

• BACK to the first Polar Bear Blog page.
• October 29: Cape May, NJ
• November 5: Lewes, DE
• November 12: Old Bridge, NJ
• November 19: Port Jervis, NY
• November 26: Hopewell, NJ
• December 3: Hatfield, PA
• December 10: Snydersville, PA
• December 17: Howell, NJ
• January 7: Vineland, NJ
• January 14: Lake Hopatcong, NJ
• January 21: North Brunswick, NJ
• January 28: Fort Dix, NJ
• February 4: Rockaway, NJ
• February 11: Pattenburg, NJ
• February 18: South Wayne, NJ
• February 25: Highlands, NJ
• March 4: Rahway, NJ
• March 11: Long Valley, NJ
• March 18: South Augusta, NJ
• March 25: Point Pleasant Beach, NJ
• April 1: Langhorne, PA
• April 15: Cape May, NJ
• April 28: Polar Bear Banquet

 Use your REFRESH button to see the latest entries.

Join the Connecticut Polar Bear Riders!

Week 16 Bears: Johnny B., left, and John K., right.
(Photo by John B.)

A wickedly powerful cold virus kept your blogger out of the saddle last Sunday. My dreams of winning the perfect attendance pin will have to wait another year. Hopefully the two Johns from Connecticut will make it all the way through. Johnny B. will be arranging his annual trip to Daytona around Polar Bear Sundays.

That's the thing about perfect. It makes no compromise. Perfect allows for no exceptions.

Johnny B. even offered to drive me down to Jersey in his truck last Sunday. I was stunned by the offer. He was trying to talk me into it. I was, am, truly honored by such friendship and camaraderie. I declined with exorbitant thanks.

Looks like another year's wait for me to get even one!
(Photo by John B.)

Fortunately, I am feeling better as of Thursday and have every intention of riding this Sunday. And in the meanwhile, I asked both Johns to report back to me on last Sunday's ride so at least our blog would not suffer a sick day.

It was fun to hear their different versions of the same events.

Sounds like the most exciting event was John K. trying to sneak past a toll gate.

Just arriving, John K. squares away his mount.
(Photo by John B.)

Henry Hudson has a toll, with gates, just as you exit onto a very short stretch of Westside Highway leading to on ramps to the GW bridge.

John K. got to the gate, anticipated, perhaps, acceptance of his EZ Pass and promptly broke the gate with his motorcycle when it did not go up to let him through.

Security camera capture shows John K., a.k.a. Bond,
James Bond, at Henry Hudson toll gate Sunday.

He rode the rest of the day with "Call EZ Pass" messages flashing at him from every toll booth.

Both Johns are morning people. I am not. They always push to set a departure time to get us CT PBs to sign-in by 11:30. If you read this blog back to our first ride, we arrived at Cape May a full hour early.

If it were strictly in my hands, we'd be squeaking in just ahead of the 1:30 deadline every week.

To assuage their early rising needs, the Johns often arrive well ahead of departure time.

Maybe James Bond was running from this Russian guy.
(Photo from John B.)

The few times I've shocked everybody by showing up even 10 minutes early, the rest of the bears are sitting around tables, drinking coffee, kibitzing and having a good old time. I mean like at 8:30 in the morning for heaven's sake!

Johnny B. can't always get there too extra early, depending if he's just coming off the night shift or not. I guess last week Johnny B. got there 20 minutes early and was shocked to find himself alone. So he called K.'s cell phone to make sure he was still going or to see if he was taking his car instead.

Bahr's Seafood destination.
(Photo by John B.)

To give an insight into John K.'s personality, every night before a Polar Bear ride he dials the phone numbers of all expected participants onto his cell phone. This way instead of fishing them out of his phone's address book (where they are messily strewn about in alphabetical order), he can more speedily dial them via the phone's "Recently Dialed Calls" list. Knowing John he dials the calls into the list with priority given to the CT PB most likely to need a wake-up call. I'll bet I'm on top of the list every week.

Nature abhors a vacuum. So while Johnny B. was waiting all alone at Dunkin' last Sunday, a Yamaha rider named Rich appeared, and seeing John in his regalia, inquired as to his purpose and struck up a conversation. Rich might even join us next week.

Last year this water was churning whitecaps.
(Photo by John B.)

Cable adjusted, they rode on south, John K. crashed the gate, and after a reportedly very good buffet lunch, Johnny B. crashed the party on the way home.

Turns out John K. had to make a social call Sunday in Freehold, NJ. Cleverly combining his friends' wedding anniversary party with a Polar Bear ride, K. made a quick stop on the bike and handed his check to the lucky couple with B. waiting in the parking lot.

A substantial buffet option awaited the Polar bears.
(Photo by John B.)

This coming Sunday's ride is uncharacteristically short for the CT riders. The Firehouse Eatery in Rahway is just under 2 hours, sandwiched between the Garden State Parkway and NJ Turnpike just before they come together.

If you have not ridden with us before, this may be a perfect opportunity for an easy, most all expressway, short ride. Forecast is nice, 40s, good PB weather.

Yamaha Rich, and anyone else interested, meet us at the Dunkin' Donuts, Lordship Blvd., Stratford, I-95, Exit 30 at 9:35 a.m. Or show up at 8 to keep John K. company. I'll be the one pulling in at 9:34:59 a.m.

John K. reported Rich's advice for going to the doctor:
"Don't bring a witness."
(Photo by John B.)

Back to top.

Week 17 Bears (from left): Joe, John H. (new), Russ, Margaret B. (honorary), John K., Chris (your blogger), Johnny B. and Bernie.
(Photo by John B.)

Because of restrictions on that rig, he had to go straight down I-95. We diverted to the Tappan Zee and then Garden State Parkway to pick up a new CT Polar Bear, John Howard.

John H. found out about the Polar Bear Club from his MSF Instructor who happens to be one of the first set of CT PBs. Jim is a riding buddy of mine and one of the first to ride PB from Connecticut with me. We also rode down to Daytona together twice. So maybe Bike Week was a fortuitous time to meet John H.

CT PBs assemble at Dunkin' Donuts in Stratford.
(Photo by John B.)

John H. lives in Ridgefield, Conn., farther south of our Stratford, Conn. launching point. Sunday he had ice on his local roads. So he arranged to meet us just before we crossed the Tappan Zee bridge.

I told John K., our lead bike this week, to look for a guy on a Honda ST. John said fine, and then started riding and thought to himself (as he told me later), "How many guys will be sitting on motorcycles waiting at the Tappan Zee bridge on a Sunday morning in early March? Any guy on any bike is likely our guy."

Before departure Chris and John K. (at right) discuss
logistics of picking up new CT PB John H. en route.
(Photo by John B.)

So when he joined us Sunday, John H. was astride a week-old Honda ST 1300. It's a beautiful machine if you can ride with your toes tucked back.

John H. apparently likes that European riding position. In fact he sounded a tad foreign. But I didn't pry. Actually, I was more interested in his numerous pieces of University of Delaware clothing. I am an alumnus of University of Dela - Where?

Turns out John's daughter is attending. My daughter is investigating U of D as one of her options. So we will have to get these two together over the summer.

John H. (closest), our newest CT PB
at lunch with Bernie (middle) and Russ (farthest).
(Photo by Chris.)

Speaking of politically correct, it will be nice to have a non-Harley in our group. This way we have a token foreign bike to show our inclusive natures. We'll try to also demonstrate our sensitive natures by holding back on the Honda jokes, at least until we get to know John H. better.

I think he's up for the banter. Sunday he threw out a few wisecracks about Harleys "marking their territories."

John H. (closest) and Bernie at Chez GSP.
(Photo by Chris.)

Just last week I teased him about neglecting his Honda Goldwing for his Harley. I hadn't see the Wing in near a year.

John K. got to feeling guilty, got to worrying about stale gasoline, varnish deposits and flat spotted tires. So this week he rode the gleaming white wing. He seemed apologetic about it, blaming the Honda's appearance on me, of all things.

Well John, I was just pointing out that if you can afford a steady gal and a mistress, you should be careful not to neglect either one too much!

John K. and his big White Wing. I couldn't get back
far enough to get the whole bike in the photo.
(Photo by Chris.)

John K. debuted his white Wing on a Polar Bear ride last year. He even tried to impress us by showing off the big bike's off-road capabilities.

Well, we've always said all are welcome on the CT PB rides. And to prove our non-discrimination policy, Russ showed up again last week.

Russ is our "say anything on his mind regardless of who's within earshot" class clown.

Johns K (foreground) and B (background) at lunch.
(Photo by Chris.)

And with that he launched into a string of bear jokes, of all things. You know, jokes about bears. Go figure!

Russ and I rode out to Sturgis together two years ago and it was never a dull moment. Anytime, every time, we stopped for gas and there was an innocent bystander willing to listen, Russ launched immediately into a narrative about our adventures.

In fact on this ride as we came out of Chez GSP for the ride home, a man and woman in Harley jackets were looking at our bikes in the parking lot. Russ immediately launched into his nightclub act!

Russ, on the right in the helmet, entertains bystanders,
at left, as the rest of us mount up.
(Photo by Chris.)

You sometimes also need a thick skin. But Russ keeps from getting killed by his targets by cleverly making more fun of himself than of anyone else.

Here's a good Russ Polar Bear story. As any of the guys know, for Polar Bear riding you end up with like three to five pairs of pants, between underwear, long johns and riding pants. These are interlaced with tucked in shirts of similar number. And it's cold.

So when it comes time to find relief at a rest stop, it takes some digging to come up with the necessary equipment.

Russ tells a story one time of being in the men's room on the Garden State.

Russ has us laughing at our Chez GSP homeward stop.
From left, Joe, Russ and Bernie, in green sweater.
(Older bald guy in center is at the table next to ours.)
(Photo by Chris.)

As Russ tells it, a guy standing next to him says, "Pal, you either gotta wear less clothing or get something bigger."

We have lost Russ on some recent PB runs to his son, who has a new house. Russ is much in demand as a free electrician, plumber, carpenter, etc. It's good to have him back.

After lunch at the Firehouse Restaurant, we took our group photo and struck out for Connecticut. Johnny B. and his wife Margaret jumped in their big rig for a straight-through drive to Daytona.

Russ (right) has Joe (left) laughing at one of his stories.
(Photo by Chris.)

Johnny B. figured 22 hours from Rahway. Settling for a vicarious dream, I kept thinking of them on the ride home and at night Sunday and into the day Monday. "Let's see, they must be hitting North Carolina about now," I'd think. Matthew (fellow PB from Jersey) and his wife must be there already. They left Friday.

As I finish this up on Tuesday, it's a balmy 16 degrees at high noon in Connecticut with a brutally biting wind. Daytona Beach, Florida, is recording a chilly 67 degrees. But don't worry Margaret and John, the forecast is for a warming trend. Me, I'll have to save up my money and time for another year.

CT PB riding buddies in Daytona 2004,
from left: Chris (blogger), Jim and Pat.

Matthew missed out on riding down. As he related it, he reinstalled the sissy bar on his Roadstar, but without reinstalling the saddlebag support bars, and didn't allow for the changed clearances. Matthew explained, "As I rode home on Route 287 I heard a buzzing sound." The backs of the bolts holding on the new hardware wore a nasty groove in his rear tire.

CT PBs in Daytona 2004, from left: Pat, Jim,
Johnny B. and me, Chris.

Hopefully Johnny B. and Matthew will see us soon to share the stories. Johnny B. and Margaret plan to arrive at this coming Sunday's PB destination direct from Daytona. That way Johnny B. can sign in and keep his perfect attendance.

Next Sunday's destination is Long Valley, NJ. John K. and I were teasing Johnny B. about being able to get his big rig up that narrow, winding mountain road to the restaurant.

My ride home from Daytona, 2004.

But Johnny B. talked to Bob Hartpence who said the new Long Valley destination is at the bottom of the hill, not the top. So Johnny B. should have no trouble getting there.

Our Rahway ride was graced with some snow flurries and squalls. As Bernie said, "Makes you know you're a Polar Bear." As the forecast reads this far ahead, next Sunday's ride to Long Valley may be rain instead of snow. But at least it will be warm by PB standards, near 50 degrees.

Mapquest says just over 2 hours. So we'll again set a departure time of 9:35 a.m. from the Dunkin' in Stratford. As always, you're welcome to join us!

Fire House was warm, but the dark grey sky was spitting snow.
Hopefully next week's forecast will change from rain to shine.
(Photo by John B.)

Our Polar Bear hosts, from left: Flight B Leaders Rich and Dave, plus PB Grand Pooh-Bah Bob Hartpence.
(Photo by John B.)

Part of the Fire House's collection.
(Photo by John B.)
 

Chris, Russ and John K. wait in line to sign in.
(Photo by John B.)

Russ ready to ride on his bright red Wide Glide.
(Photo by John B.)

Johnny B. saw the Elvis bike, also shown on Grand Tour site.
(Photo by John B.)
 

Last stop of the day at Chez GSP.
From left: John K., John H. and Bernie.
(Photo by Chris.)

Back to top.

Week 18 Bears: back row from left: Carl, Joe, Margaret (honorary), Russ, John K., Bernie;
front row from left: Chris (your blogger), Johnny B., Steve and Ken (standing).
(Photo by Johnny B.)

I've said it before, forty degrees is great PB riding weather. Look for more of the same this Sunday if the weatherman is correct. Only this week the weather pattern will be reversed. Weekdays are turning out springtime warm. But the weekend forecast is colder.

In fact, Russ and I went for a few hours' ride today, Wednesday, to gather photos and experiences for one of my Backyard Gems stories. The weather was nice enough that we were shedding layers. Daytime highs hit mid-sixties inland.

A few bears found it warm and sunny enough to enjoy the patio.
(Photo by Johnny B.)

Daytona was warmer of course.

Johnny B. and Margaret met us at Long Valley Pub, driving up from Daytona after an overnight stop with friends in Washington D.C. Their timing was excellent. No more than 20 minutes elapsed from our arrival to theirs.

Johnny B. signed in and preserved his perfect attendance. Only four more rides to go and he and John K. will have made it!

Johnny B. and Margaret had a much warmer week than us.
(Photo by Johnny B.)

It turned out to be a very good thing that Johnny B. showed up in time to meet us in Long Valley. Buoyed by the delights of Daytona, or perhaps conditioned by buying $6 beers all week, Johnny B. and Margaret sprang for our lunch.

A warm and sunny Sunday brought out a fair sized crowd as you can see by the group photo at the start of this week's blog entry. So buying lunch was no small accomplishment.

Margaret and John told some Daytona stories. But I was too far at the other end of the table to hear much of them.

CT PBs at lunch, around the table from left:
Bernie, Carl, Ken, Chris, Joe, Steve and Russ.
(Photo by Johnny B.)

The afternoon of his arrival he tried to stop in at Destination Daytona for some tires. But they won't let any trailers into their lot after 10 a.m. As he headed on south on I-95, Matthew and his wife came upon a trailer that had, in his words, "come apart, spilling bikes on the highway."

The next day his tire quest continued with a visit to the local Yamaha dealer � who had no tires. He headed back to Destination Daytona and fortunately, across the street was a Metzler factory trailer and display. They were glad to sell him a pair of ME880 wide white walls and install them on the spot.

Both Johnny B. and Matthew saw plenty of wildlife in Daytona.
(Photo by Johnny B.)

Then, inside Bruce Rossmeyer's amazing dealership, Matthew found three Playboy Playmates signing autographs.

New tires mounted, he then rode over to the speedway to meet a friend. Matthew said he likes the feel of the Metzlers better than his stock Dunlops. He questioned the installer's advice to keep the Metzlers inflated to 42 psi front and 48 psi rear. That sounds high to him, me too. I run 36 front and 40 rear on my Harley with Dunlops. Any RoadStar riders out there on Metzlers who could offer Matthew some advice? Send him an e-mail: [email protected]

More Daytona wildlife, as captured by Johnny B.

He did not ride down because of his tire mishap. He trailered back home too, but didn't say why. I guess you'll have to wait another year to earn that "I Rode Mine" patch, Matthew.

At the end of this week's blog entry I've posted a few more Johnny B. Daytona wildlife photos.

Just as we were leaving, waiting at the light to make a right turn back through town, I saw Randy on his Guzzi pulling in. I didn't even get a chance to wave and I doubt he saw us. But Walter caught a picture of his bike on the Polar Bear Grand Tour web site. (Hopefully he won't mind my "borrowing" it here.)

Walter noted in his caption the crust of salt and shorted Randy a few miles by saying he came from Connecticut. Randy rides down from New Hampshire. That's a whole Massachusetts and two-thirds of a Connecticut from our starting point. Randy's a rider!

Randy's Quota from New Hampshire made the ride.
(Photo by Walter Kern, PB Web Master.)

Unfortunately this Sunday may see more of the same. If the forecast holds, we will have a sunny, mid-forties day, just like last week. But if the forecast is true, we will also get snow on Friday and Saturday. That means the DOT crews will be out spreading salt and calcium chloride. And there won't be time for rain before our ride. Hey, if you want to be a Polar Bear, you gotta expect a little salt spray.

This Sunday's ride is to the Chatterbox, South Augusta, NJ. Mapquest says 2 hours 10 minutes, 117 miles. As I look at the map, we end up about equidistant from Route 80 in the south (mapquest's suggested route) and Route 84 in the north.

CT PBs re-mount after a sunny coffee stop at Chez GSP. We were light two members because Carl and Russ skipped the traditional stop and headed straight back to home. Turns out they got Joe in trouble. At least that's what I heard!
(Photo by Chris)

In any case, let's set a 9:35 a.m. departure time.

The CT Polar Bears will be thin ranks this Sunday. The Bridgeport HOGs have their season opener "Putt to Putnam" ride Sunday. Most of our guys will be there instead.

The two Johns will Polar Bear to protect their perfect attendance. I will join them because it will be way too nice a day for a short ride with the HOGs.

And come to think of it, our third John, John H. just might join us. He's no HOG. He's one of the "nicest people."

Steve's chrome encrusted Harley got a salt bath too.
It was Steve's second PB run. This time with electrics.
(Photo by Chris)

Ed, Flight A Leader.
(Photo by Johnny B.)

Rich and Dave, Flight B. Leaders.
(Photo by Johnny B.)

Friendly hostesses at the Long Valley Pub and Brewery.
(Photo by Johnny B.)

Johnny B.'s weekly Bob shot.
(Photo by Johnny B.)

Johnny B. and wife Margaret enjoying Daytona sunshine.
 

Margaret checks out a Harley "dually."
(Photo by Johnny B.)

More Daytona wildlife by Johnny B.

More Daytona wildlife by Johnny B.

Back to top.

Week 19 Bears, from left: John K., Chris (your blogger), Johnny B., John H. and Randy from New Hampshire.
(Photo by Johnny B.)

Snug inside the snow surrounded Chatterbox, around the table from left: John H., Chris, John K., Randy and Johnny B.
(Photo by unnamed bystander, thanks!)

The very next week a nasty ice and snow and sleet storm had me reduced to clearing only a motorcycle-wide path down my driveway for the February 18th ride.

The week after I got laid out by a cold or flu so severe, I lost my shot at a perfect attendance pin after 15 consecutive Polar Bear meets. On February 25th only Johns K and B made the ride in not too bad weather.

For our next ride to Rahway we arrived in snow squalls, in March! Soon after that March 4th ride, winter turned on the Canadian cold air machine and we had probably the coldest weather all season.

Johns B and K and I stop for a sunny coffee / hot chocolate
break on the ride home. What snow?
(Photo by John B.)

We had him on the ropes for a few days last week, temperatures climbed near 60, then wham, he came out of a clench with a record-setting snow storm, capped off with a sheet of ice. Groan! More tough shoveling to get the bike out for a Sunday ride in the country.

Afraid of snow, salt and sand, the Bridgeport HOGs cancelled their season opener. That was no surprise, but I expected to see a few of our HOG � Polar Bear crossovers show up for the ride out to the Chatterbox in South Augusta.

I am admittedly battered but confident still. Spring started officially this week. March is more than half over. It's lamb time. Time for Old Man Winter to go down for the count.

Okay, your blogger has to admit Old Man Winter can
still get in a few good body blows, even in March.
(Photo by John B.)

I gotta admit old man, starting with that sub-freezing ride to Rockaway February 4th, you have put up one hell of a fight including one more serious artic blast and two nasty snow and ice storms, last week's a record tying effort.

So maybe I was wrong and I should be wary of February winter. Even so, my message of hope rings true. The fight now looks to be over, knock wood � H-A-R-D � just in case!

Unfortunately the fear of snow probably kept the Polar Cubs home last week. Everywhere we rode, including parking lots, the snow was all cleared to the edges, piled deep.

Snow fear kept attendance way down. Last year bears
filled the lot all the way around the Chatterbox.
(Photo by John B.)

(Apologies to my faithful readers for the late entry this week. That "work" thing sorta jumped up and bit a hole in my schedule this week.)

Last Sunday Bob Hartpence set the mood for this Sunday's ride, "Bring your swim suits, we're back at the shore!" I intend to wash the bike tomorrow, Saturday and remove the soft lowers. I rode last week without Hippo Hands and my fingers were fine.

Our Connecticut numbers will still be down. The Bridgeport HOGs will be riding this Sunday for their season opener. Hopefully that forecast holds and the rain/snow/rain clears out extra early for a sunny day near fifty degrees.

Polar Bear leader Bob says, "Bring your swim suits
this Sunday, we're back at the shore!"
(Photo by John B.)

John K. was in the left lane holding a space open for Johnny B. and I who were in the middle lane Apparently, Johnny B. was happy in the center lane because he did not move over. Next thing we knew, an unmarked vehicle lit up with a red and blue light show and followed John K. from the left all the way across to the shoulder.

Hey! Aren't you the same guy who tried
to slide under a toll gate?

I did jog back to the overpass bridge to signal John K. to exit. Despite seeing him coming from a quarter mile and waving like an aircraft carrier Landing Signal Officer, flashing my glow gloves by turning my hands backward, seemingly obvious in my riding gear and helmet, John K. rode on beneath me oblivious.

Johnny B. and I got back on our bikes and headed west. The next logical stopping place was the Tappan Zee Bridge, where we were picking up John H. And we found both Johns K and H there, waiting patiently. Traffic whizzing by and dressed in full face helmets, the story had to wait until we de-layered in the warmth of a booth at the Chatterbox. Turns out the cop accused John of cutting off a car behind him when he moved to the left lane. He was just being a good � if aggressive � sweep.

John K. fed the trooper a steady stream of "yessirs," apologies and denials. The policeman reading no ill intent got to talking motorcycles. He recognized John's uniquely decorated submarine Harley, although the two of them could not match up where. Turns out the trooper is a Motor Patrol Officer on a Harley in warmer weather. John K. waited him out, making small talk about motorcycles for what seemed to John a very long time. Finally the nice policeman said he would get in trouble if he did not write some tickets that day and went back to work, first sending John K. on his way with nary a stern rebuke.

John H. enjoys one of Randy's jokes.
(Photo by John B.)

John's first comment, before he would even tell the story, was directed to me, "Well I guess I'll be the star of the blog this week!"

Fortunately for John K., Randy from New Hampshire, himself a town policeman, joined us for lunch. Randy had just qualified for his patch and red rocker. Last Sunday was his fifth (5th) Polar Bear ride so far this season. We figure if he rides to Cape May he'll for sure earn his gold rocker.

Randy favored us with some good blonde jokes. We got to laughing. Then Bob Hartpence came over with his bathing suit comment. And John K. was off the hook . . . until this very moment.

However we do have to give John K. credit for buying everyone's lunch Sunday! Thanks!

A blonde calls the fire department, "Come quick, my house is on fire!"

Fireman dispatcher says, "Tell me your location. How do we get there?"

Blonde says, "Duh! Big - red - truck?"

In my e-mail to the CT Bears before last week's ride � and snow storm, I had suggested perhaps riding back east on Route 84. The Chatterbox is pretty much midway between Routes 80 and 84.

Sometimes 84 is a nicer ride home for us, because it pretty much avoids all the New York City traffic and Tappan Zee Bridge. Of course if you are a longtime reader of the blog, you know the story of our traffic jam the last time we tried Route 84. Come to think of it, John K. was the star of THAT blog too!

Any snow concerns for the secondary roads leading through Jersey's scenic highlands were assuaged by Randy's scouting abilities. Turns out he came in that way.

The roads were clear and twisty. And three lumbering Harleys were led by two nimble Guzzis. Randy was on his 100,000 mile-plus Quota and John H. had brought out his Nevada for the day.

Fortunately through the High Point State Park twisties, our pack was led by a nervous minivan. Still I was pushing the big Springer into the corners to try and keep up.

It's hard to stay serious at the Chatterbox!
(Photo by Chris with Johnny B.'s camera,
when Johnny B. went to the bathroom.)

Different bikes for different purposes. It is great we can all ride together and enjoy the Polar Bear Club. It is the most diverse motorcycle group I have ever seen.

It was an enjoyable, scenic and fun ride home. We cut up through New Jersey's Highlands, pert near to the Poconos. The farms and woodlands were spectacular with their coat of new snow.

Up on 84 as we crested the peaks before heading down to the Hudson we were treated to some beautiful panoramas. You can't get this scenery in summer. Leaves block out most of it. And you don't have the stark white ground against the dark rocks and brown trees and contrasting buildings.

This Sunday's ride is sure to be less scenic. We're back on the Garden State Parkway most all the way. Hopefully it will be warm and the boardwalk will be scenic and the ocean won't be too angry. Our departure time is set for 9:05 a.m. because Mapquest says it will take us 2 1/2 hours to get to Point Pleasant Beach, NJ, a new PB destination.

John K. and Chris check in at Flight B.
(Photo by John B.)

Flight A Leader Ed certainly chose the right camouflage.
(Photo by John B.)

Chatterbox decor.
(Photo by John B.)

Chris suits up for home.
(Photo by John B.)

Back to top.

Week 20 CT Bears, from left: John H., Chris (your blog author), John K. and John B.
(Photo by John B.)

Yes, we were at the Jersey Shore. No we did not jump in the water.
We are not that kind of Polar Bears, at least not today.
(Photo by Johnny B.)

Even this early in the season Jenkinson's Pavilion was serving up boardwalk fries.

John H. treated us to a tasty lunch of Cajun chicken sandwiches, boardwalk fries and sodas. Thanks John!

This could get expensive. Bowlan, Kammerer then Howard are setting a dangerous precedent. And it's looking like my turn to buy. Although I did a year ago when I hit "member of the month."

What a cool idea! Polar Bearing to the boardwalk.
(Photo by Chris)

We Polar Bears seemed incongruous in that crowd, clomping around in motorcycle boots, heavy clothing and creaking leather.

Wanting to soak up a bit of this summertime preview, I convinced my fellow CT riders to take a stroll on the boards. With a bright sun beaming, it started to feel like, well not summer just yet.

Last Sunday the temperature warmed, threatening to climb into the sixties. Not exactly beach weather, but warm by Polar Bear standards.

I asked her if it really was warm enough for that sun dress and she offered a fun and emphatic, "NO!"
(Photo by Johnny B.)

But then the reality of diets and health and waistlines came crashing back on me like the still cold wind among summertime scenery. Guess I'd better hit the gym in preparation for warmer days.

Any of you who have spent a vacation at the Jersey Shore certainly can't fault me for trying to grab onto some of the experience, even in March.

My Great Grandmom McCarthy had a place in Wildwood. We would go every summer for a week or more when I was a little kid.

The boardwalk always brings back fond memories for me.
(Photo by Chris)

As my Mom and Dad and sister and I stayed in her little beach cottage other visitors would come and go. On weekends the place filled beyond capacity with my Grandmom and Granddad from Lancaster County, Pa. and my loud South Philadelphia Aunts with their strange accents.

Great Grandmom McCarthy was my fathers' Grandmother on his father's side. Only she wasn't really. When my father's father was very young his family fell on hard times. As was common practice before our present-day welfare state, my Grandfather's mother parceled her kids out to other families who could care for them until she got back on her feet. Great Grandmom McCarthy raised my Grandfather through his formative years until he was reunited with his real mother, my biological Great Grandmother, who I never met. That's how your blogger, a Wonder Bread WASP Protestant, ended up with an Irish Catholic "Great Grandmom" and a collection of "Aunts" from South Philly. The culture shock was all great fun to an eight-year-old. I never really gave it any thought until I was a teenager. But by then my very different Great Grandmom was gone and we had stopped going to Wildwood on the wondrous Jersey Shore. It took me forty years and a motorcycle to find my way back.

Great Grandmom McCarthy put on a feast at every meal, especially dinner. She always made two or three times more food than the crowd could possibly consume. It wasn't a question of clearing your plate. Youngsters were allotted plenty of extra latitude at the beach. Besides, the food was delicious.

No, the real challenge was getting away from the dinner table before your guts exploded, splitting your skin the way a hot dog does if you cook it too long.

You could not ever, never, "clear your plate." As soon as you had finished something: fresh Jersey corn-on-the-cob slathered in butter and salt, grilled hot dogs or burgers, bread and rolls, green bean casseroles with the little French fried onions, stewed oyster crackers, my Great Grandmother hovering around the table, never eating herself, quick as a flash and seemingly out of nowhere, would simply plop another huge portion on your plate.

You would turn your attention away from your plate for just a second, say to reach for another dinner roll or pass the salt, and when you looked back there was another pork chop on your plate.

I can remember my mother pleading for an injunction on my behalf. "Please Grandmother, he's said he's full, he can't eat any more." In defending me she soon found her own eating abilities under attack, "No I'm fine, no I can't eat another piece, no please don't put more on my plate." All in vain. At every meal.

Great Grandmom McCarthy's motivation is unknown to me. I can see her only through a child's eyes. I remember her protestations, "But we have so much food. Can't you have just a little more?" She even employed that old saw about the starving kids abroad, India I think was her favorite target. A mere first grader I was still able to do the math and conclude that if she made less food to start with the problem would be solved all around. But she never did.

Ah, to have that metabolism again. I was a skinny kid. My Great Grandmother would fill me to the gills and then bring out dessert. My mother, a skilled Pennsylvania Dutch baker, would make Shoo Fly Pies for the Philadelphia Aunts. And I always found room for a big piece with ice cream. That night we'd go for a walk on the boardwalk and I would be begging for boardwalk fries, ice cream waffles, soda, cotton candy, fudge, salt water taffy and toffee candies that came from the place with boxes decorated by Scotty dogs.

Next morning I'd wake up hungry, eat a big breakfast with scrapple and eggs and pancakes and waffles, ready and raring to do it all again.

For a long time I was afraid of the water and bored with the sand. But oh how I loved the boardwalk, underneath during the day, dark, cool, damp and salty; up top at night, bright, warm, breezy and fresh.

All the boyhood boardwalk pleasures are there, plus a few adult ones, surrounded by bikes, babes and beer! Drink up, you can walk most everywhere. If you're too tired, the boardwalk tram is still running.

Clowning around at the boardwalk.
Metal shutters in the background allude to March.
(Photo by Johnny B.)

You can find me at the Ala Moana Motel a Hawaiian-themed motel run by French Canadians. Tell Patricia Chris from the Bridgeport, CT HOGs sent you!

Johns Kammerer and Bowlan presented me with one of those beautiful embroidered Polar Bear vests. I was just flabbergasted. It was a total surprise. It was a heartfelt gesture. Thanks guys!

Ever the stickler for detail, John K. made sure to procure for the vest a Polar Bear patch and every rocker I'd earned since I began riding with the club.

Both John K. and Johnny B. have had the vests. Was it last year guys? And they felt being one of the most avid CT Bears, I should fit in. I'll wear it with pride.

Fellow Polar Bears presented me with an embroidered vest.
(Photo by Johnny B.)

Me, I don't really have a nickname. "Oh," they were saying, "you must go by something. Maybe from school days?" "No, not really," I answered. (Wonder Bread WASPs don't generally get nicknames.)

I never gave it another thought until they reminded me last week while presenting me with my new vest. Unwilling to settle for plain old "Chris" as is displayed on my Polar Bear flag and sweatshirt, my compatriots assigned me my first ever nickname then had it embroidered on my Polar Bear vest, "CT Blogger."

I finally have a nickname.
(Photo by Johnny B.)

You know I never really thought about anyone else but our Connecticut crew reading the blog. Just like I never really thought about wearing my all orange Harley hat.

The blog was just to capture the fun of my weekly e-mails announcing departure times for the CT bears. The cap was a gift from my daughter Annie.

The cap is from a dealer in Texas, where I've never ridden. For a time, Annie was working in the Motorclothes department of my home Harley dealer, Bridgeport Harley-Davidson.

Orange hat was an accident.
(Photo by Johnny B.)

All these hens came home to roost last Sunday. Sure I figured people would recognize John K. from the blog. I mean, talk about a hat! But I never figured my orange cap to have the same response, though in retrospect I have to admit it is a bit bright. When I first met John H. I put out my hand and offered my name. However no introduction was necessary, he told me, "I know. I recognize the hat from the blog."

Well last week I was just very busy with work. (If you know anyone who is looking for a talented marketing consultant and/or advertising agency contact me!) And sooner than I imagined the weekend was looming. I hated the idea of falling a whole week behind. So I stayed late and finished the blog on Friday, then polished it a bit on Saturday, the day before our next Polar Bear ride. Meanwhile I was already receiving e-mails asking about the blog. One even inquired as to my health, "Where's the blog? You okay?"

So I should not have been surprised Sunday. But I was, and delighted. Three fellow Polar Bears that I had never met came up to me in Jenkinson's Pavilion, no doubt spotting me by that hat, and asked me where was last week's blog? I am delighted that you are enjoying it whoever you are.

Merritt Parkway is a two-lane road with limited access but plenty of on and off ramps. It's Connecticut, so you have drivers wanting to go anywhere from 45 to 90 miles per hour and the road is most always loaded with cars.

Generally the slow ones stick to that right hand lane. Plus that's where all the merge action is. So we favor the left lane when riding motorcycles. And while we certainly do not do 90, we still keep a respectable speed and are generally passing slower cars every few minutes.

Chris, left, and John K. suit up to battle traffic.
(Photo by Johnny B.)

What caught my attention first was the aggressive moves she made, zooming up � then hard on the brakes. I look over and she's yakking on a cell phone. She's wearing this fur collared vest and showing bare arms underneath. The vest was probably adorned with dog fur from China.

Well she has to drop back for the slower cars in the right lane, so she jogs back behind us. For the next 30 miles, each time the slightest gap appears on the right she jumps over, hard on the gas, hard on the brake because she never judges enough room to get around all three bikes.

Maybe if we dressed like these guys
we'd have less trouble from nasty drivers.
(Photo by Johnny B.)

After more than a half-dozen attempts off and on for quite a few miles there was one opening that looked like it might be long enough for her to get by all three of us. I couldn't help myself. As soon as she moved right, I signaled, cocked my left my arm up to over-emphasize my intentions, turned my head and safely and blithely took up a position in the right hand lane, matching speed with John B. in the lead and John K. in the sweep, both of them still in the left lane, until we reached the slower traffic on the right side. Then I slid back left into my middle position behind Johnny B., leaving the Lexus behind.

After that vignette if you still dare to join us, on April Fool's no less, our ride this coming Sunday is to Brian's Harley-Davidson, Langhorne, Pa.

Arrrg! No quarter asked. None offered!
(Photo by John H.)

Mapquest says 2 1/2 hours, 140 miles. But that's going over I-95 to the GW Bridge and then through Trenton. We'll take the parkways again to the GW, much nicer for motorcycles (and safer). Plus, having once lived in Hightstown, NJ, I know a more scenic route over to I-95 by Princeton instead riding through Trenton. All-in-all it may take us more like three hours.

Nevertheless, Johnny B. will be coming off night shift. So we'll set a departure time of 9:05 am and may just have to settle for getting to our destination a few minutes after they open the sign-in books. As always, we meet at the Dunkin' Donuts in Stratford, CT, at the corner of Lordship Blvd. and Honeyspot Rd, I-95, Exit 30. You're welcome to join us! If you've ever wanted to try this Polar Bear thing, now's the time. This is the penultimate ride and the last one is a long stretch to Cape May. It won't be too cold Sunday, with a bit of luck sunny. Just show up ready to ride.

John H. treated us for lunch.
(Photo by Johnny B.)

"Sue, what should I have for lunch? John H. is buying!"
(Photo by Johnny B.)

Friendly servers at Jenkinson's.
(Photo by Johnny B.)

John H. parks his Honda ST
in the shadow of mini golf mountain.
(Photo by Johnny B.)

Caught up with Matthew, first we've seen him since Daytona.
(Photo by Johnny B.)

Chris "CT Blogger," checks in at Flight B.
(Photo by Johnny B.)

Longing to be strapped to the back of a motorcycle?
(Photo by Johnny B.)

Winning the next sissy bar bungee victim?
(Photo by Johnny B.)

Bob Hartpence's new bungeed bear.
(Photo by Chris)
 

We pick up John H. (white helmet, John B's is black) on the parkways in the shadow of the giant cell phone sequoia.
(Photo by Chris)

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