Wednesday, October 28, 2009

The Ride To Yar's Fall Lunch...

The driveway looked like the palette of an artist gone mad. Two or three layers of leaves covered the black-top in a last hurrah of color, before acquiring the tint and texture of old tobacco.

“Aaaaaaaah, the first real day of fall,” I thought. The neighbor’s cat darted across this carpet of fallen flora and struck a dramatic pose against the fence post. This is the cat that delights in pissing in my garage.

“Say cheese,” I said.

The cat looked at me quizzically in the brief second before I triggered the electric leaf blower, air-mailing forty square feet of detritus in her direction. As you are all aware, a substantial number of bike drops occur because the rider has inadvertently stepped on dry leaves, wet leaves, a potion of a a wet leaf, a stub of a twig (with a perfectly round circumference like a pencil), or cat shit causing the one leg supporting the bike to go akimbo.

The prudent rider is well advised to keep the runway clear of this stuff for drop-free take-offs and landings. My tool for this purpose is an a leaf blower powered by a General Electric C40a, a fan motor used to ventilate subway tunnels. In less time than you can spook a cat, the leaves were off the pavement and roughly piled on the grass. I then rolled out "Fire Balls," my 1995 K75 BMW, and couldn’t help noting how seasonal it looked against the backdrop of turning trees. The bike is painted a deep shade of scarlet so inspirational, the College of Cardinals in Rome used matching color swatches for their football team’s jerseys.

The starting line-up for the College of Cardinals 2009 Football Season -- (Photo courtesy of Cardinal Mendzenty -- Click to enlarge)

“Have you seen my cat,” said a voice that sounded like a pick-up line from the Crypt-Keeper. My aged, hated neighbor, who has more lines in her face than a contour map of the Himalayas, was draped over the fence like a hangover hallucination.

“No, I haven’t,” I replied, using the voice I save for traffic cops and divorce court lawyers. .

It was at that point that one of the piles of leaves started to “meow.”

“Did you throw those leaves on my cat,” she screamed.

But I had already started the bike and was following the standard BMW warm-up procedure of revving it at 6,000 rpm, so I missed a lot of what she said. I could tell her maw was still moving though as it had started to foam.

“Don’t worry,” I shouted over the screaming of enraged pistons. “I’ll burn these leaves as soon as I get back.”

I snicked the bike into gear and buzzed out of the driveway. According to the electronic billboard at the local bank, the temperature was 48ยบ. The sun was shining and the bike was running like a lineal descendant of Jim Thorpe. All was right with the world. And if the digital dash clock, standard equipment on all K75s from 1986 to 1995, was to be believed, I would be on-time for this morning’s ride.

This ride would barely be a warm-up for the average BMW riders -- 45 miles. An invitation from Yar Seevers, sole proprietor of Buckingham Lumber, for an outdoor fall brunch was luring Dick Bregstein, Andy Terrell, Alain Kaldewaay, and myself to quaint little Buckingham, Pa. Our starting point would be at the Starbuck’s in Exton, where a decent hot cup of Joe can still be purchased for less than $10.

I hadn’t ridden in two weeks and every part of me, except one, was as stiff as a board. I debated taking the more picturesque, and tree-lined run down to Exton, and gave it the pass in favor of the more urbane Route 100, with its breathtaking view of shit house strip malls most of the way. My decision was colored by the fact it had been raining like hell for two days and 40 percent of leaves that had been on trees 48 hours previously were now on the ground in a kind of puree from hell. Despite being 100 percent natural, I can live without this stuff’s effect on curves and fast stops. PA Route 100 would be arid and leaf-free.

I had two blocks left to go when I was brought to a halt by a traffic light. It was here I saw two BMW motorcycles cut into the Starbuck’s driveway. And just when I was about to pull away, Bregstein carved through the intersection, with the the kind of wave WWI pilots used to exchange after a dogfight.

“Well,” I thought. “We’re all here.”

In truth, I didn’t give much thought to organizing a group ride. I had just had a really shitty week and felt like getting lost in the company of a few good people, who always have something funny to say. Three had responded to my posting for a ride.

The parking lot at Starbuck’s is behind the building, which looks like it should have been a bank, or something. I bumped over the lip of the driveway and carved a sharp left into — a convention of BMW motorcycles. For the first time in seven days, I felt a smile rip across my face and I started to laugh. There was Gerry Cavanaugh, Andy Terrell, Jay Scales, Matt Piechotta, Alain Kaldewaay, Dick Bregstein, Gary Christman, and Jim Robinson (and I know I am forgetting a few people).

I put my feet down and started to laugh. Let there be no doubt about this: doing stuff with the Mac Pac is like going to Thanksgiving dinner with people you really like.

Jim Robinson was riding his Ducati, which looks and sounds like a Roman candle. Robinson lost 37 pounds and was wearing ballistic gear he bought from the Michael Jackson “on-stage” collection. His “Duc” makes the most incredible sound. At start-up, there is a kind of contained explosion, and then it sounds like a nuclear reactor shaking a can of marbles.

Aside from myself and Robinson, everyone else looked like a commercial for the BMW GS, the motorcycle designed to match the classic appeal of the bowling shoe. And even the machines that were not in the “Merrimac” armored dirt-bike category sported the traditional boxer engine. I wasn’t fooled for a minute, and knew the look of “K” bike penis envy on the faces of these guys when I pulled in.

The parking lot at Yar Seever's "Buckingham Lumber" was choked with bikes by 12:30pm. All the best people were there. (Photo by Jack Riepe, who barely got off his ass after arriving at the event -- Click to enlarge)

Jim Robinson proposed an interesting route for getting to Buckingham, Pa. He wanted to go out RT. 113 to Lake Michigan, then head back east. He knew a way that included a network of tree-lined back roads, complete with switchbacks, cattle-crossings, and a turn through a corrugated half-pipe culvert that ended on 150 feet of single-plank board scaffolding, that extended over a working open-pit mine.

Jim Robinson standing in front of his screamingly hot red Ducati. (Photo by Jasck Riepe -- Click to enlarge.)

I just ridden 5 miles and my ass was killing me. I wanted to go out US-202, take the right turn onto Rt. 413, and get a drink in Buckingham. No surprises. “Guy’s,” I said. “Don’t worry about me. Pick the ride that will give you the most satisfaction.”

I was nearly knocked off my bike by the stampede to follow Robinson.

Only Dick Bregstein and Gary Christman (who had just returned from China) offered to ride with me. Dick claimed that he was more than happy to ride US-202 through the mall-congested town of King of Prusia, to the ripped up street congestion of downtown Norristown, to the mall- congested stretch through Montgomeryville, to the single-lane congested stretch approaching Peddler’s Village. He said that he would enter it in his diary as the “Just Fucking Shoot Me Fall Ride.”

Our host — Yar Seevers — striking a pose on the hottest bike in the lot, while Alain Kaldewaay, BMW GS rider, looks on in unasbashed admiration at a bike with a proper cooling system. (Photo by Jack Riepe, who still hasn't gotten off his ass -- Click to enlarge)

Gary claimed that he had never ridden with me before and heard the chance for unintended entertainment could be high. Twenty minutes later, I popped the clutch at a stoplight, had my left hand slip off the handlebars, while the right one twisted on the gas. The bike took off swerving from side to side for about 200 feet before I could get it under control. Looking in the mirror, I found Christman laughing his ass off, giving me the "thumb's up."

While the ride was pleasant, it didn’t start to get pretty until within three miles of our destination. It was exactly like riding on a busy city street for 40 miles. Yet the terrain becomes positively pastoral the second you cross into Buckingham. Yar’s business — Buckingham Lumber — makes the Amish look gadget oriented. It’s located in red barn, surrounded by the kind of equipment made for moving lumber and building materials in the 1890’s. There is even an adjacent railway siding, with passenger train coaches from the ‘20s awaiting restoration, to add to the ambiance.



The business end of Dick Bregstein's BMW R1150RS. Note the non-telescoping front forks. The chrome suspension cyclinder can be seen under the headlight. Also note the spotless condition of the jugs on this Beemer. (Photo by Jack Riepe — Click to enlarge)

Within minutes of our arrival, the place was jammed with bikes. Riders came from as far west as Allentown and as far east as Philly, to shoot the breeze, look at bikes, and chow down on pancakes, sausage, eggs, burgers, and dogs. Dozens of Duncun Donuts disappeared in a feeding frenzy as the mob continued to build. I found a nice seat in the sun, and sat there, looking like a casualty with my cane prominently displayed. This was a great strategy as at least three hot-looking women scrambled to get me breakfast — one pointedly ignoring the guy she came with (Chris Jacarrino).

Mac Pac rider Rick Sorensen suiting up for the ride back home, on a BMW GS. (Photo by Jsck Riepe -- Click to enlarge)

I could have selected my seat with better judgement, however. Bregstein noted it was perched on a platform attached to a scale used to measure bulk commodities in tons. I’d eat something, and he’d bring folks over to study the dial (which was the circumference of a hula hoop) to monitor the difference. Finally he said, “I can’t tell if this thing is weighing you, or the train.”

Andy Terrell suiting up for a back roads run home, on another BMW GS. It is the marque's biggest seller. (Photo by Jack Riepe -- Click to enlarge)


There were close to 40 bikes in the lot with a few serious riders. Moto Edde Mendes was there with his significant other Nicole. Edde rode in on a K75 that he used for his run from Morocco to New York, heading east for 39,000 miles through the Sahara, the “Stans,” Asia, and Russia. High speed, long-distance riders like Rick Sorensen joined Jim Robinson, and Doug Raymond (who rode from Philly to Prudhoe Bay on the Arctic Circle and back in 14 days) showed up later.

Long distance riding legend Doug Raymond came later. This is a photo of Doug attending the Mac Pac Monthly Breakfast the weekend before, when it was raining. (Photo by Jack Riepe — Click to enlarge)

Not having ridden in two weeks, my arthritis was acting up and I did not want to ride home via the Purgatory route we took coming in. I asked Bregstein’s indulgence and sought the shortest distance to the Pennsylvania Turnpike, which I figured was less than 10 miles away. Yar gave us directions that involved 63 turns and two enroute decisions that had to be made according to number of birds sitting on the overhead wires. I got us lost twice within that 10 miles. But Alain Kaldewaay claimed his GPS was watching over us and that we were almost at the interstate.

"Fire Balls" holds its own with bikes of a newer design. Note the mounting block I use as a step in front of the back tire. (Photo by Jack Riepe — Click to enlarge)



We were... The ride back was at warp speed, and I am not kidding. It felt great. My bike is as steady as a rock at 7,000 rpm, and sounds like a Messerschmidt looking to get laid.

International model "Gina" stopped by on her way to the Cannes Film Festival, and just had to sit on "Fire Balls." When asked if she would consider a life of editorial compromise and general disillusionment, she gave this gesture. (Photo by Jack Riepe -- Click to enlarge)

But the day wasn't over yet. I pulled into my driveway a little after 4pm, and left the bike outside. Despite the fact that I was walking like Quasimodo, I was determined to take this bike for a ride in the dark. Those of you familiar with “Fire Balls” from previous episodes will recall that I have $1400 worth of riding lights on this machine. Since installing them, however, I have yet to go riding at night.

It was blacker than the inside of a cow at 8pm, and I headed for the darkest roads I could find. The headlight was out of adjustment, again, which had me a little crazy. But I got it right after two or three dismounts and was very pleased with the result. It takes about 30 seconds for the HID lights to come up to speed but the effect is startling. The left one comes on first, with a flash of internal fire and a gradual steady piercing light. It is shortly followed by the unit on the right. This may be because each unit draws two million jiggawatts at ignition, before simmering down to 30 watts each. There was no odd activity on the voltmeter, however.

I now have a field of dazzling white light in the center, flanked by laser-like blue light on either side, at least three hundred feet ahead of the bike. This works just fine for me. I may consider having a metal shop make a visor for each of these lights, as some illumination leaks upward into the fairing interior.

It wasn’t a lot of miles (110), but they were fun miles.

Next Blog Episode: “Duc Dude’s Most Excellent Toll Booth Adventure”
Coming: “189 Miles Per Hour In First Gear — No Shit”

Copyright© Jack Riepe 2009
AKA The Lindbergh Baby (Mac Pac)
AKA Vindak8r (Motorcycle Views)
AKA The Chamberlain -- PS (With A Shrug)

36 comments:

mq01 said...

i wonder what the neighbors cat would do if caught in headlights?!? i want a blower like yours jack. i roll bob out under an oak tree and through a yard, battling leaves, twigs, and mud often. seems its about that time of year when bob hibernates, as a result. :(

seems like a fabulous group that you ride with jack!!

Jack Riepe said...

Dear MQ01:

I will ride until the first snow or ice storm. The local municipalities cover the streets with sand (which is obviously dangerous) and salt (which leaves white marks that can become permanent on my engine cases).

At that point, my bike stays in the garage until the roads are swept, generally in April. But I have a heated sea and the cold doesn't bother me.

We have 250 members in our local club, and the majority of these guys are distance and speed oriented. A 500-mile ride to these guys is regarded as typical. And they will do this going like hell.

I actually ride like hell a lot of the time too.

Thank you for reading and for posting a comment.

Fondest regards,
Jack • Reep • Toad

mq01 said...

500 miles are typical?!? my kind of guys/rides. my typical is 300-800 mile days. fabulous!!! wish i was closer, sounds like an excellent bunch to ride and be friends with. you are a lucky man... :)

ride safe with our changing weather jack, and have an excellent weekend.

Conchscooter said...

Naked breasts on Saturday.I ignored your old age moping and went out and said "That body paint looks great." I put $3 in her...pot and bob was my uncle. I keep thinking you are full of shit, then I have my doubts.

Jack Riepe said...

Dear Conch:

Laughing my ass off as I read this...

Jack

bobskoot said...

Mr Conch via Mr Jack "r":

best 3 bucks you ever spent and we are waiting for the results.

Mr Jack "r":

You had a great day of riding & eating with great friends/buddies. You are indeed lucky. I really liked your line "stiff everywhere, except . . ."

all of you are too long distance for me. Perhaps it's because I avoid the freeways. Taking secondary roads and going through all the small towns do take a lot of time. And also stopping all the time to take photos.

When we get down to Redmond, OR next year you'll have to wait for me as I plod along at the speed limit.

bob
bobskoot: wet coast scootin

cpa3485 said...

Those are some pretty serious and great looking bikes. Looks like this ride was a lot of fun. Fireballs looks like it (him, her)is in tip top shape. I admit to looking at want ads for a used BMW around here.
Great report Jack! What is the Cardinal's record so far this year?
JimboBob

Gary said...

You misinterpeted my gesture! It wasn't a thumbs up......but you were busy....I understand!
Gary

Charlie6 said...

Another great ride report Jack, I liked seeing the faces of the folks who endure your presence on a regular basis.....just kidding, wish I was closer so I could ride with the mac-pac.

Jack Riepe said...

Dear Charlie6 (Dom):

I was afraid people were getting the impression that I didn't really ride my bike. But it has been raining every time I got ready to ride.

And I cannot deny that the first 30 minutes in the saddle are hell on my back. Still, it is a cloudy fall day today and I am planning to go out for a run in a little bit.

I'm glad you liked this piece and the guys are ride with are an absolute scream. Too bad you aren't closer.

Fondest regards,
Jack • reep • Toad
Twisted Roads

Jack Riepe said...

Dear Gary:

I was merely trying to put the best spin on the situation. Going into the beginnings of a tank-slapper are funny now, but it would have been a real pain in the ass if I had dropped my bike last Sunday.

So much for day-dreaming at stop lights.

Fondest regards,
Jack • reep • Toad

Jack Riepe said...

Dear CPA3485:

The Mac Pac constitute the most serious riders I have ever met, who are the farthest thing from douchebags or posers. I lucked out when I met these guys.

The K75 is quickly becoming a technical dinosaur, and is one of the best loved Beemer models. They are hard to come by at low mileage, but a few are around. You may have to travel to find one, but chances are you won't be disappointed.

The problem with a Beemer for you would be service. BMW dealerships are scarce in the hintrerland and qualified independent mechanics, wise to the quirks of the machine, are even harder to find.

Thanks for reading and for commenting.

Fondest regaerds,
Jack • reep • Toad

Jack Riepe said...

Dear Bob:

I took a solo run a few weeks back, and decided to ride everywhere at the speed limit. I connected with a couple of guys on cruisers in the Harley style. They never went above the post 50 mph for two hours. I nearly fell asleep. The speedo on this old K75 starts at 70 mph and I love the interstates.

Country roads are fun for an hour or so... But I lve to let all 71 horses run at the same time.

When we get to Orlando, Florida, where the roads are straight and all the naked women are dancing on the bar at Duval Street, you will have plenty of opportunity to study my tail light.

Thank you for reading and for commenting today.
Jack • reep • Toad

Woody said...

Imagine my surprise to see a photo of Catholic Bishop’s on Twisted Road. What a dichotomy.

I used to work with a guy not unlike you. Paul was a large man with a good sense of humor. Paul had some great expressions, but one stands out from the rest – his definition of slippery. Riding on wet leaves is like two eel’s fucking in a barrel of snot.

Another entertaining story. Thanks for sharing, because I really enjoy reading them!

Jack Riepe said...

Dear Conch:

Years ago I sat at the bar in gentlemens establishment, were one of the most beautiful woman I had ever met danced naked over my $10 glass of orange juice.

She was talking to a guy next to me, and mentioned that she was part Italian and part Cherokee Indian. I didn't hesitate. I said I was too. She looked down at me, smiled, and asked, "What's your name?"

I replied, "Little Running Sal."

True story.

Fondest regards,
Toad

Jack Riepe said...

Dear MQO1:

I am going to start riding farther and farther in 2010. In fact, I am riding up to New York City this weekend.

Fondest regards,
Jack • reep • Toad

irondad said...

Leaf blowers that only work in your driveway? You need two smaller ones mounted under the bike and pointing to the sides. That way you will always have a path clear of leaves for your feet!

Perhaps in Redmond next year we can ride together for a bit. Then I can either say I had the privilege of riding with Reep, or brag about surviving!

Jack Riepe said...

Dear IronDad (Dan):

Privilege? i can supply you with the names of more than a few who have ridden with me... Yet that is not a word they have ever used to describe the experience.

Fondest regards,
Jack • reep • Toad

bobskoot said...

Jack "r":

Perhaps you are right, but we will refer to it as being a "privilege" until we experience otherwise.

bob
bobskoot: wet coast scootin

Jack Riepe said...

Dear Woody:

What a kind and thoughtful note! Your friend's description of riding on wet leaves was spot on. Piles of dry ones aren't much of an improvement either.

I have a couple of good pieces coming up next week, plus I believe mu monthly column is about to start in the BMW MOA's Owners News next week.

Thank you for reading and for writing in.

Fondest regards,
Jack • reep • Toad

Jack Riepe said...

Dear Bobskoot:

My good friend and riding partner Dick Bregstein once said, "Riding with Riepe is best enjoyed by chewing on a piece of leather as you go."

You'll find out.

Fondest regards,
Jack • reep • Toad

mq01 said...

NYC sounds excellent. bet there's fabulous food to be had. can you tell, i am/was hungry, well that is until something about eels in snot...lol... glad you got through that tank slapper upright.

Rogers George said...

Usually I'm mildly jealous of your rides. You make even a mundane ride sound like an adventure. (Of course that's what a mundane ride is, or we wouldn't be motorcyclists.)
Alas, my bike is down, and I won't be able to have even a mundane ride for a while.
I got to shovel 6 tons of gravel this morning, too. Good exercise, anyway.

Jack Riepe said...

Dear Rogers:

Does this mean you're not mildly jealous of this ride?

I have two other recent ride stories coming up. And tomorrow, I have to take a run down to Maryland, and I plan on riding "Fire Balls."

I am going to take bake roads through horse country -- you know, the stretch around The Whip Tavern -- to US-1. Now under any circumstances, US-1 is a shithouse, but it is beautiful from the Mason-Dixon Line into Belair, Md., which is my destination.

On Sunday, the better of the two weekend days, I riding north to Manhattan. Both rides will be "solo."

Thanks for reading and for posting a comment.

Fondest regards,
Jack • reep • Toad

Jack Riepe said...

Dear MQ01:

I learned to ride a motorcycle in city traffic, at rush hour, one mile west of 42nd Street and Fifth Avenue, across the river fron Manhattan, n Jersey City.

I got a 15-minute course on how the Kawasaki worked worked and rode the bike home from the dealers. It was my first bike. I didn't even have a permit. Even then, I was something of an outlaw. True story.

Fondest regards,
Jack • reep • Toad

sgsidekick said...

My mother-in-law wants to borrow your leaf blower. The neighbor's cat leaves muddy prints all over the vehicles in the carport.

Sounds like you guys had a really nice ride. Wish I could have been there with y'all. Bet the leaves are gorgeous.

Allen Madding said...

reep,

Kudos to Jim Robinson. I bet his helmet hurts his head due to the swelling of pride riding a sexy Ducati with a crew of folks riding german engineering with side bags that look like they are transporting chemisty experiments or high dollar microscopes :)

I have to agree with your comments on Dick Bregstein. Nice jugs.

Regarding the neighbors cat, an old timer once aske me if I knew how to make a cat sound like a dog. When I said no, he replied, "Easy, cup of gas and a match. WOOF!"

-Peace

Jack Riepe said...

Dear Sgsidekick (Tena):

Please tell your mother-in-law that all she needs is a slingshot fashioned out of a long bungee-cord and a box of wine corks. The bungee cord will provide enough muscle, without being excessive. The champagne corks provide a projectile with authority but without injury.

A garden hose is equally effective.

Thank you for reading and for dropping me a line.

Fondest regards,
Jack • reep • Toad

Jack Riepe said...

Dear Mr. Madding:

Jim Robinson is an absolute pisser to hang around. I have clearly mentioned that the BMW GS has all the charm and appeal of a school bus... But it also has the balls of a bull moose. I got up into triple digits the other day, and the guy right behind me was riding a GS.

We have two guys in the club who routinely ride Ducatis. The other is DucDude, who is the subject of an upcoming blog. We also have a guy who rides an MV Agusta. (He's a heart surgeon.)

Bregstein is always bitching about how dirty his bike is. Looks it, huh?

I don't open the door and let my two dogs (weighing in at a combined 250 pounds) run around shitting in peoples' garages. Why do cat owners think this is acceptible?

Cats are the #1 killers of endanged song birds in the US. And I personally feel that anything that shits in a box in the house is disgusting. So, I recommend cat owners walk their animals on a leash or exercise them in caged runs. (That ought to spark a shit storm.)

Thanks for reading and commenting.
Jack • reep • Toad

Ihor, with regards, said...

Great story and event report. Notice that the cardinals shrank rather than enlarged when clicked? Must be a Halloween trick!! Booooo!!

Sad that cats vex you so. I'ld recommend either a Browning or a couple of brown dogs as a solution, which ever is handy.

MattPie said...

Jack, it was a pleasure to see Dick again. I think you talk up the MAC-PAC too much in terms of mileage. Many of us are perfectly happy to ride 200 miles at a time. :) You can put 500 miles on in a day off-highway, it just takes 15 hours. :)

Also, cat haters are a*#ho%@s. :)

Jack Riepe said...

Dear Ihor:

I rather like cats... I just don't like that one.

Shrinking Cardinals is a rare phenomenon.

I'm headed out for a gray fall ride today.

Fondest regards,
Jack • reep • Toad

Jack Riepe said...

Dear Matt:

The last time I discussed mileage, I was sitting at a table with Moto Edde, Doug Raymond, and Rick Sorensen. I used their average.

I love cats. I am going to buy a Siberian tiger and teach it to jump over the fence when it wants to feed. Wanna bet I make the news?

Fondest regards,
Jack • reep • Toad

bobskoot said...

Jack "r":

Mileage, smileage. No way to put on serious miles here in British Columbia. We have no super highways. The last time I put on 500 miles (800 kilometers) was last year and it took 12 hours. Every little town you had to slow to 25 kms, plus all the winding roads through the mountains, then you get caught behind a motorhome with no way to pass for hours. all these are single lane roads (one lane each way).

It takes over 4 hours to go from Vancouver to Victoria and it's not even 50 miles. around 25 miles to the ferry terminal, you have to get there at least half hour early, then 2 hours on the ferry over the water, then another 20 miles into downtown Victoria. but it is very scenic.

Right now we are being lashed with our 3rd storm. Pelting rain for days with no end in sight and heavy snow in the mountains

bob
bobskoot: wet coast scootin

bobskoot said...

Jack "r":

ps: forgot to add. As I look outside at all the rain and cold, all I can think about are all those people down in KW walking around with no clothes at Fantasy Fest. Conch is going to post some pixs on Saturday.

bob
bobskoot: wet coast scootin

Jack Riepe said...

Dear Bobskoot:

Fall foliage season came and went here in the middle of the night. Days of driving rain blustry winds have left trees half bare, some with leaves that have barely turned.

As a consequence, fall is looking rather threadbare here. With a rain front predicted today, it is my intention to get out on the bike this morning, ride to the shitiest diner in creation (even though it has a motorcycle parking lot), and get my knees bent and stretched for tomorrow's run to the Metropolitan area (NYC).

The world's shitiest diner is in the heart of Amish country, so the possibility of getting a decent picture or two is still possible.

Fondest regards,
Jack • reep • Toad