Reflection On Last Night's Post

It occurred to me this morning that yesterday's poker run was another event to benefit the victims of a motorcycle accident, though this one wasn't fatal. This one I wrote about in May was. More recently, off-duty South Windsor police officer Ben Lovett, 25 was killed riding his motorcycle by a drunken piece of shit in Tolland. Kid had his whole life ahead of him, and ironically was about to receive an award from M.A.D.D. for his efforts combatting drunk driving with SWPD. Then there was this one in May not too far from where I live. John Wade of Dayville, CT was killed and his passenger critically injured when a car quickly turned left in front of them to get into Cumberland Farms. Then there was the huge blow to the biker community when 7 riders of a USMC motorcycle club were killed at once in New Hampshire in 2019. The druggie driver of the truck didn't think he was impaired at the time. I am sure he is in some type of protective custody, because there is sure to be a bounty on his head.

For Christ's sake people.... pay some fucking attention while you're driving! Motorcycles have been on the road as long as cars... well over a 120 years. The excuse of "I didn't see him" is all on you. "The Beast" is equipped with brilliant LED lighting all around. My headlights are properly aimed but I drive with my high beams on during the day, so it is like looking at the sun. Even so, I had a six wheel box truck start to pull out in front of me, but he stopped in time and I was ready for him. Off the throttle and ready on the brakes. IMHO, being shit-faced behind the wheel and taking one of us out should result in summary execution at the accident scene. Hit me regardless of reason and they'd better kill or incapacitate me, or I will crawl to where they are and choke the life out of them with my bare hands. I'll be sure to pull my helmet off first so they can see my face and the murderous rage in my eyes.

First Ever Poker Run

Earlier this spring I did my very first "Blessing of The Bikes" event. In all my years of riding, it just never worked out to be able to attend one. Today was another first, a benefit poker run.

Flyer from today's event

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

I left the house at 09:00 to meet the guys at 09:30, but I ended up arriving 10 minutes late. Today was the day that state DOT decided to fix all the road washouts from the recent flash flooding in my area. I got stuck at no less than 7 active flagged construction zones with one lane alternating traffic. Not until I got well west of my hometown did I have a clear ride. We didn't hang around long because the other two guys had not yet had their morning coffee. I did at home, and had a thermos of hot java in the trunk of "The Beast." A quick ride to the DD a few miles away and the other guys were all set and I enjoyed a second cup of my own brew. We set out for the ride from Manchester to Deep River on 2-lane state roads, no interstates. The ride was pleasant and uneventful.

The Sobieski Club is a Polish-American Club, not a motorcycle club. The parking lot is a fucking nightmare for big heavy bikes like mine or the Harley full-dressers, because it is gravel on an incline. I dropped "The Beast" on her crash bars in a flat gravel lot a few weeks ago just standing still, I was hoping NOT to have a repeat performance. Close, with some slippage under foot, but no drop. We got ourselves registered and some refreshments and headed out to the first stop. We decided to hit the closest one first, The Rusty Rail Cafe.

For those unfamiliar (as was I before this poker run), here is how it works. Pay your entry fee, sign the obligatory waiver, and get your score sheet and a wristband. I also bought raffle tickets and entered them for the prizes I was interested in. At each stop you draw a physical playing card from a shuffled deck and it gets recorded by contest officials on your score card. You go to each stop once and in whatever order your riding group chooses. The game ends at a set time and you return to the starting point to receive your final card and turn in your score sheet. I was on my way to a straight; with a 5 of clubs, 8 of spades, and 9 of diamonds, with two more stops to go hoping for a 6 and a 7. Nope, at the fourth stop I picked the fucking Jack of diamonds, making my hand garbage. We received our final card at the Sobieski Club which was a 3 of something but at that point I didn't care anymore. I just wanted to eat.

When we left at noon there was no pig cooking, so we assumed there would be one of those pig roasting trailers that restaurants or caterers will bring in, and VOLIA! piggy is served. Nope... they cooked it themselves and got a very late start. Instead of eating at 5 PM, they didn't start cutting up Mr. Piggy until 6:45PM. I wanted to be well on my way home by then. We scarfed some down and hit the road. Since it was just me and my bud with his Goldwing, we were going to just hop on the interstate and do a high speed cruise home. Getting to the highway was tricky. The road the GPS initially wanted us to take was closed until August 25th with a bridge out. The next road we tried started out good, But we stopped pretty quick when the road suddenly ended in a huge puddle of unknown depth across the entire road, and the road beyond that was a dirt road mess. We tuned around and went up to road #3 and this time got over to the highway with no issue. By this time the sun was getting lower in the sky, so we pulled over on the entrance ramp to deploy hoodies. It was cool but tolerable in t-shirts on the back roads, but would be too chilly at 80 MPH. We split up on I-91 north where he continued on towards home and I veered off  to head east on I-84. I had to make one quick stop at the bank to hit the ATM and replenish my cash. I ended the day with 215 miles on the trip meter and an aching butt. I will sleep good tonight!

More D/S/C Propaganda

This morning on my local Fox affiliate they referred to Doomberg's "Everytown" as a gun safety organization. BULLSHIT! Unless you make the stretch from reality and count complete civilian disarmament as some kind of safety measure.

In reality that only ensures safety for tyrannical dictators and their police state, as well as the criminal thug element. Certainly not for those of us citizen patriots looking to maintain "the security of a free state."

A Nice Outing, But Cut Short

Friday is my normal day off, and my wife suggested taking our kayaks out this afternoon. We are backed up with Hello Fresh meals, so I suggested I make a nice big lunch and we go after that. It was really hot and humid with a heat index approaching 100, so an afternoon paddling and swimming would be refreshing. The meal I made was a pork loin with cherry jam, a carrot and apple slaw, and scallion mashed potatoes. I cleaned up the kitchen and loaded up the boats, and a cooler with drinks. A quick stop at the firehouse to get ice for the cooler and we were off. Our destination was Bigelow Hollow State Park and Lake Mashapaug.

As we got into Union it was obvious that a heavy rain shower had come through. When we got to the launch area, everything was dripping wet, but the sun was back out and blazing away. The thunder was in the distance to the east and moving away. We unloaded the truck and got the kayaks set up to launch. I parked the truck and off we went.

We paddled out of the cove where the boat launch is and to the left along the south shore. We went in and out of a couple of other coves ending up on the little island at the end of a sandbar. We decided to hang out there because the wild blueberries that grow on the island and along the shoreline are late this year due to the overly wet weather. We picked the ripe ones we could find for breakfast tomorrow... blueberry pancakes. We went for a swim on the sandbar for a while and then noticed the darkening skies to the north. A quick check of the radar showed a line of thunderstorms heading east right towards us. A quick pack up and we started paddling with purpose back to the boat launch. Now we're hearing thunder but not everyone is heading in. Oh well.

We got to shore, loaded up, and out of there in a few short minutes but the storms were coming in fast. The rain was coming down in buckets by the time we hit the main road and the wind had picked up. Vivid lightning and instantly booming thunder said it was right on top of us. I pity those still on the water that did not make haste getting in, but you can't fix stupid.

Old School Series - Part 6, A Little Family Story

This post is inspired by a photo in a post courtesy of fellow blogger Tam over at View From The Porch. 

Promo shot from "Smokey And The Bandit"

My Mom loved that movie and Burt Reynolds, and REALLY loved that car. She kept telling my Dad

she wanted one for Christmas. This was decades before Lexus made that a thing. My Dad never

said no, but kinda the "we'll see about that" type of vagary. Then came Christmas morning.

At the end of the opening of presents, my Dad hands my Mom a small gift wrapped package

containing a velvet covered jewelry type box. Inside was a brand new set of GM keys. My Mom's

eyes got as big as dinner plates and she actually squealed like a little girl. My Dad told her to go

look in the garage. Sitting in the garage where my Mom's car normally was sat a brand new Trans Am. Unfortunately for Mom, it was an 8" long plastic toy car version. Dad had her car moved to the

neighbor's house the night before when she wasn't looking, and had the keys made up at a dealership. Instead of being mad, Mom knew it would be impossible to afford the real car and loved her present. That car sat on her desk at the bank until she retired. I don't know what ever happened to it, but I know she treasured it until her death in 2010.

 

Not the exact version, but the closest photo I can find of the one Mom received

 

The fact that Mom didn't actually receive the real car probably extended her life a good 30 years. You see, Mom was a VERY aggressive driver, and when she was driving Dad left his fingernail marks in the dashboard. She would have pushed that car hard, emulating her idol Burt from the movie, I just know it. It would have shortened her life in the same way handing a 16 year old kid that just got their license a brand new high performance 1100cc sport bike would.