January, 2005
January’s Rider - A Moment in the Sun
by Paula McCallum
Jen Staines, our aptly chosen MMR Treasurer, is also an accountant for a company in Marshfield who builds and maintains cell towers. She grew up in Whitman and now lives with her husband Rob in Pembroke. Jen loves to cook and entertain people at their home, especially in the summer by the pool.
Jen’s riding career began about 6 years ago. When they first lived together, Rob won a go-cart from a gas station give away. After their nephew Andrew got hurt on it, Rob traded the go-cart for a 1989 Kawasaki EX500. Rob & Jen rode on that bike for a couple of years, until she wanted to learn how to ride it herself. Rob gave her the rider course for her birthday but first took her to an industrial park and taught her to ride in one day. That year, he bought a bigger bike and she got the Kawasaki.
This Mystery Chick now drives a 1993 Sportster 1200, black on black with a 4 1/2 gallon stretch tank. Besides the Kawasaki, she's also owned a 1990 Suzuki Katana 650 before going Harley. There is something really cool about saying "I own and ride my own Harley." Jen rides because of the great feeling she gets of power and freedom all rolled into one, with the wind in her face, the smell of flowers in bloom or people's grills cooking.
Jen’s biking epiphany came to her while riding to a MMR meeting last summer. She had just bought her Harley and was a little torn about whether she should try to be more feminine instead of tooling around on this loud bike. It was about 6:45 and 80 degrees out with the sun low in the sky. The sun was so orange it looked like the sky was on fire. She had just turned left onto Route 80 in Kingston with Rob and Billy Pike. They took that turn and opened the bikes up and that's when it hit her, "this is exactly where I want to be."
Jen has been a Manomet Mystery Riders for 3 years. She likes the group because "anyone is welcome, man or woman, Harley or Hardly, no one cares, just come ride and enjoy yourselves!"
For any woman who wants to get a bike, Jen say, "GO FOR IT! just take your time and don't do anything that you don't feel comfortable doing. There is always the next ride or the next season to get better.” Some of the best advice she received was from her Dad, who rode a bike when she was young. He told her, "When you are not nervous on your bike anymore, it is time to give it up."
Biketoberfest
By Paul O’Rourke
The middle weekend in October, for four days, Thursday through Sunday is a mini bike week in Daytona Beach, Florida. Andrea and I always go for a week because the weather is a perfect 85o. This year we had Lee and Debbie Johansson imbedded with us at the Hawaiian Inn right on the beach.
The air conditioner in our room was working overtime. And speaking of spending time in the saddle (bike seat) Mike Grillo and Maribelle, the newlyweds, were just north of Daytona Beach on A1A in a condo on the beach in Ormond Beach having a mini honeymoon. Andrea and I arrived on Sunday and George and Charlene picked us up at Daytona airport, which is on the main land, and we set up the bunkhouse before Lee and Mike Grillo arrived by car from Massachusetts. I always have Mack transport my bike down because he lives right on Daytona Beach and it is simple to pick up your scooter after your arrival. We have other friends who live on or near Daytona Beach which is helpful if you get stuck or need a lift or some help.
This year we really needed a place to watch the Red Sox because they were at the end of the Yankees series that week and we were not going to miss any of those games. As it turned out, it was the cheering of the Southern Mystery Riders, y’all, that beat the Yankees. We all watched the final games at Mack and Colleen's house on the Beach side and smoked some four foot cigars that Lee bought in N. Carolina. It was safer there since there are probably no other Red Sox fans in Florida besides us and we don't want to cause any red necks to heat up down South.
Daytona, Florida is divided into two parts, the Daytona Beach which is a peninsula about 20 miles long pointing south separated by the Halifax river which flows North up to St. Augustine, which is a beautiful place and a great ride North along the Atlantic Ocean. I think it's the oldest city in North America, besides Plymouth, MA.
I can see that this short article has become long winded and there is lots more to tell about our great adventure so I am going to make this a two part story so I can give some insurance tips for the new year about your motorcycle. Happy New Year until my next installment were I tuck Lee and Debbie into bed. Best Wishes from your legal Bro. and Andrea.
Motorcycle Insurance by Paul O’Rourke, Esq.
Motorcycles are not covered under the no-fault law. What that means is that if you get in a motorcycle accident, God forbid, and you or your passenger are injured there is no PIP, personal injury protection of $2,000.00 to cover medical costs, or up to $8,000.00 if you have no health insurance like we have on our automobiles. Therefore, you must carry, make sure you ask your agent or company, MEDICAL PAYMENTS No. 6 on your coverage selection page. This coverage can be for (should be at least) $5,000.00. This costs around $100.00 or so and covers the operator or passenger, both get the limit, for any medicals before or notwithstanding heath insurance. This is the cheapest and most necessary insurance you will ever buy and don't accept less than $5,000.00 limits. This is especially important if the rider or passenger has no health insurance coverage.
Paulatics
by Paula McCallum
I’ve been “riding” my whole life (and might I add, not too happy about it from the looks of it). But, my first bike? Not the Honda Rebel. That honor would have to go to my Army green Schwinn, a three speed with brakes on the handlebars, not the foot pedal. It was a Christmas gift from my folks at the ripe old age of 10. There was a rule at the McCallum household stating that none of us could have a brand new bike until we hit the double digits.
My first trike, barring drag pipes? A Big Wheel by Fisher-Price (ridden joyfully until my older brother absconded with the back tires to build his go-cart). I would fly like a bat out of hell down the hill keeping on the sidewalk. As I neared our driveway, I’d cut the wheel hard to the right while simultaneously jamming on the rear break, leaving little plastic skid marks after my 180o spin out. I was a cool kid. Or so I thought.
And talented too. I could have run away to join the circus by age 9 after having taught myself to pedal my first one wheeler. (My second unicycle was equipped with a soft seat & an inflatable tire - I had entered the big time). My sole desire for getting a unicycle arose out of revenge for not being allowed to own a bicycle in the first place. The Sears special came equipped with its own practice poles (since tiny training wheels would have just defeated the purpose). I spent long hours in our basement wiping out across the hard tiled floor until I became one with the wheel. And my mother was worried about traffic!
I won my first 10 speed, a few years later, as a paper girl for the Brockton Enterprise. I harassed neighbors up and down the street for weeks until I got 11 of them to sign up for a new subscription. The cheapest Huffy ever made was then delivered to me via the newspaper truck. I had beaten every paper carrier in Avon and Brockton (boys and girls) with the most new subscriptions for an $80 bicycle?! Huh. Thankfully, my Dad upgraded it at ChildWorld for an additional $40.
Years later, when I was finally ready for the motorized edition of a two wheeler, my mentor took me to an empty parking lot to practice all I’d learned at the Training Wheels course. He said I wasn’t quite ready to turn on the engine of my Rebel as I balanced myself in the saddle. Squeezing the brakes, I coasted down the hill slower than I had ridden the Big Wheel. My coach jogged along side holding onto the sissy bar before having enough confidence in me to let go. It brought back fond memories of my childhood. My Dad, doing the same thing, making sure I had it down pat before sending me off on a borrowed banana seated bike with tassels. And thus my passion for riding had begun.
MMR Toy Run
by Paula McCallum
On Sunday, November 28th, 23 bikes, 8 vehicles and over 40 people gathered at Bickford’s in Kingston, to feast on a breakfast buffet. After sharing a meal and comradery, we roared off to Benny’s to buy toys for the children at Jordan’s Hospital in Plymouth. Mulling around the parking lot with idle chatter and good cheer, we awaited our departure time and the arrival of Santa to begin the Toy Run. Santa (a.k.a. Skinny) came on his sleigh driven by his special Elf, Buddy (Billy Pike). I literally, jumped up and down announcing, “Santa’s here, Santa’s here!” Hey, some of us are still young at heart (or in mind in my case).
The lingering gray clouds looked foreboding and threatened to downpour at any moment. But the Harley Gods smiled down upon us, letting only a light sprinkle descend as we got off our bikes and entered the building. What a sight we were to the johnny clad patients seeing the Jolly Old Elf and his pack of black leather helpers in tow parading through the quiet halls of the hospital.
Thankfully, there were only two children in the Pediatric ward on this day, Molly and Karsten. The three year olds were a little timid with our motley crew but happy to receive a special dolly and truck from Santa. Maybe it was due to our pathetic attempts at singing Christmas carols? After the first few stanzas of each song our voices trailed off until we preformed a smashing rendition of “Rudolph the Red Nosed Reindeer.” One kind elf, before leaving, handed the kids some candy canes and Santa hats from his own bag of goodies.
Piled high were a stash of gifts we left behind for the hospital staff to dole out to children when they are discharged. Lisa McSherry, the Director of Maternal Health Services at the Jordan Hospital, explained that with a toy in hand, the kids will go home with a happy experience of their hospital stay. Other toys will be used in their playroom for those needing a little extra care.
All the Manomet Mystery Riders left with a warm feeling in their hearts after this experience. Giving these bikers the true spirit of Christmas which is the certainty that it is far better to give than to receive.
Re-Cycling
by Paula McCallum
How the Manomet Mystery Riders Began
This is going to be a new monthly feature of historical MMR stories entitled “Re-Cycling” that we will build on from contributions by our members.
After playing hoops one night at Indian Brook school, John McCloud (a.k.a. Big Dog) suggested to Bill Ferguson that they take a ride to the Hyde Park Harley Riders Thursday night run. With a long drive ahead of them to Hyde Park, Bill suggested they start their own Thursday night rides right here in Manomet. The boys set a date for the first ride that following Thursday. Bill mimeographed flyers to spread the word of their rides and deposited them in helmets where ever he saw a stray bike, a bare telephone pole or shop window. The flyers announced Thursday night “mystery” rides since they didn’t have a clue where they’d end up (and we still don’t). Scott Ferguson asked Suzy Gellar if they could meet at her ice cream stand so that the riders would have a place to gather. 6 Manomet residents showed up on the first ride and each week it grew a few bikes at a time. After a few months, there were about 40 bikes showing up every Thursday night at Gellars.
It was then that the bikers decided to form a group so that they could promote safe riding and comradery among people who enjoyed riding together.
The first meeting was held at the John Alden Sportsman’s Club in November of 1999. Subsequent meetings were then held at the Moose Club and Checkers Pizza until finding its current home back at the JASC. The first meeting had already begun when Jack Cribbs walked through the door. He was asked if he’d like to be their first President? Jack accepted and led them the first year. One of the first orders of business was to come up with a name for the group. The 40 or so people at the first meeting submitted their choices for a name. Some of the ideas were The White Horse, The Pine Hill or John Alden Riders, The Nomads, etc. but ultimately the “Manomet Mystery Riders” was selected based on their original Thursday night rides.
Along with John, Jack and Bill, some of the founding members of the MMR who are still members today are: Roberto Theodore (a.k.a. Joe Pesci, who was our first paid member), Bob and Scott Ferguson, Eric Vining, Mike Laitinen, Richard Cardillo, Danny Paine, Lee Johansson, Scott Smith and Tom Cole. Some of the first women in the group were Deb Johansson, Anna Sullivan, Diane Trask and Theresa McGuire just to name a few.
My apologies to those founding members not mentioned here. If you would like to add your names and experiences to future articles, I’d like to hear from you. |