The Return Ticket

Listen my children and you shall hear of the midnight ride of Paul Rev... oh wait a minute, wrong fellow and even the wrong time of day. My ride home from the Adirondack Beemer Rally had so many of the happenings you want to tell other people but usually forget. This time I tried to remember them all and write them down after I got home.

I decided to meander home from the rally site in Wilmington (about eleven miles northeast of Lake Placid) and so I zipped up the leathers and while home is south and west, I pointed the motorbike south and east. I pulled to the shoulder for a map check near the intersection of SR 73 and I-87. While deciding where to go next, a yellow sport bike zoomed by. Wasn't a Beemer. I got going again almost immediately, taking the same on-ramp the yellow bike used, but I never did see him. Two exits later I decided to top off the tank. Here was that yellow bike, already gassed and ready to go. We chatted a bit and he told me he was a member of the Yankee Beemers, but also owned four Honda CB750 Super Sports (this yellow machine was one of them) and he was coming from a Honda rally just up the road from our BMW rally.

Where I crossed the Hudson River, it was about 80 feet wide and six inches deep.

Remember, I had decided to wander about looking for new roads. Next thing I knew I was in Poland! (Didn't remember crossing the ocean...) A short while later I arrived in Russia, then must have made a turn somewhere because I passed through Ohio and later arrived in Rome. Don'tcha love it.

I arrived in Speculator (yes, all towns need to have some kind of a name) and figured I'd stop for that second cup of coffee. I pulled into the parking lot of a small but busy restaurant, the only one in the village, and walked inside carrying my System II helmet. I sat down at the only available seat, a stool at the counter. Immediately, the blond man in shorts seated next and between two children eating pancakes, asked "Did you go to the National in Texas?" Turns out he rides a red K75S as well, just two years newer than my Lava Red '87. His is Marakesh Red, though. Well, this coffee stop took longer than usual.

Later, outside the restaurant, we said goodbye and he took his children home. As I'm preparing to leave, a car from Quebec stops and the driver asked me "Is zis ze way to Lake George?" I got out my map and showed him the route. He was so upset at being 60 kilometers out of his way that he didn't even say thanks.

A half-hour past Speculator, I was in a line of vehicles being held up by two blue-haired women in a Continental. We came to an intersection, and the driver of the Continental stopped her car right in the middle of the road and her friend jumps out and walks over to a car waiting at the stop sign, probably to ask directions. We all had to wait.

After noon, it became very hot and even more humid, so at Rome I decided to just hop on the Thruway to bypass Syracuse. I stopped at an oasis for a tall ice water and some lunch. I heard a woman nearby tell her children "That man is wearing a thousand-dollar suit." I had to tell her that in Germany it was only $275.

She gathered her children and departed, leaving only me and an elderly couple in our section of the Sbarro's. In a bit, a "yuppie" couple brought their trays over to a table near mine, and picked up their glasses to go for Pepsi, when the woman sat back down and said to her husband, "Dear, you get the drinks; I'll watch the food." I suggested to her that I could watch it. Rather than take me up on my offer, she just shot me a dirty look. Bad biker dude would steal her pizza, I guess.

After lunch, I filled the tank and proceeded west on the Thruway. Traffic was not very heavy. I was cruising about 70 in the slow lane when I noticed a couple of cars overtaking. The second was an open T-top Corvette and it slowed to my speed just beside me. The driver was a young woman who I thought resembled the actress Winona Ryder or one of her ilk, with long brunette hair flowing in the breeze. She appeared to be giving me the once-over... maybe the thrice-over? Finally, she winked at me. As she couldn't have seen me wink back through the face shield and sunglasses, I waved. Then, she smiled and sort of raised up in her seat and wiggled her chest at me. She was wearing a tube top. Well now. I can't really wiggle MY chest, so I blew her a kiss. This time she gave me a big chuckle (looked like), and reached up and raised a corner of the tube top and waved a nice... unfettered...¹ C-CUP at me!!! Well, I certainly had no reply for this, so I blew her a few more kisses! Then, she gave a hearty laugh, nailed the throttle and was gone. Must have hit a hundred in the next few seconds.

Fifteen miles later, I came upon a small sedan off the side of the highway on its roof and facing the wrong way. There were police and fire trucks, and an ambulance speeding away from the scene. This was anti-climactic after the Corvette.

The rest of the trip was uneventful. I was able to keep abreast of the situations. ;-)