Vaughn                          
by Paula McCallum

On July 13, 2006 Vaughn W. Smith passed away after a long battle with lung cancer at the young age of 41. Many of the Manomet Mystery Riders stopped by to pay their respects at the wake. His family was very appreciative for all our support throughout his illness. His aunt made it a point to hug every biker who walked through the door.

At the funeral on Monday, the place was packed with family, friends and standing bikers. All were silent, during the eulogy, when a signal was given and outside could be heard the haunting sound of a motorcycle engine being revved 3 times. I was moved to tears at this special honor bestowed to Vaughn (Thanks to Dennis Hoffer for making this suggestion). The eulogist also read a touching poem called “The Dash” by Linda Ellis (see page 3). Giving us pause to think about how we spend our dash.

37 motorcycles then lined up, ready to “take him home.” The procession was led by Vaughn’s two bikes followed by his best friend, the hearse and then the Mystery Riders. Danny Paine, Glenn Adams and Dennis Hoffer did a exceptional job blocking traffic as we made our way to the Plymouth cemetery.

At the graveside, while we paid our final respects, everyone looked to the sky as a hawk circled the air before he flew off over the trees. This was just Vaughn’s way of letting us know that he is now one with nature while in Heaven his spirit soars.

Ric Nobrega writes: It was a pleasure to be the honor guard for such “real human being,” for he brought so much to the friendship we had with Vaughn. He rose above so many problems in his prior life to be the great human being he turned into. He was every man’s friend, would share his last piece of bread with anyone, THIS is a very rare human being. As you know, since he took sick we have heard so many of the awesome things that he did, and never once sought recognition for any of it in any way, he just wanted to be the best human being he knew how to be. And he achieved this status with out much effort, he was a natural. We will miss him dearly, he was a sapphire among the uncut stones of humanity!

He brings a life lesson to all of us in the club, do not be afraid to be fully human, do not be afraid to let others see your short comings, do not be afraid to say, “I am sorry,” for in these acts of true humanity, we become closer to all of humanity.

Dear Mystery Riders,
My name is Rhonda Sheffy. I had the great pleasure of meeting many of you at the services for my cousin, Vaughn Smith.

I feel the need to thank you all once again for all that you have done for Vaughn and our family. It's comforting to know that Vaughn had so many wonderful people that loved and cared for him at a time when he needed it most.

You all have a special place in my heart and I will not only think about my uncle, Johnny Martin and my cousin, Vaughn each and every time I see a group of riders on a beautiful Sunday afternoon, but I will think of all of you as well.

Please be safe and I hope to meet up with you all again someday. I try to get to Plymouth as often as humanly possible (I live in Pennsylvania) because most of my family is there. I will e-mail you when I know I'm coming to visit again. Maybe I could get a ride on one of those awesome bikes!

I saw all of the rides that you do for the community and for charity and thank you just doesn't seem like enough. You are angels and I wish you all the very best.

Sincerely, Rhonda Sheffy

How Some MMR Spend their Dash

Clem Walsh and friends on the Cabot Trail during a five day (7/5-7/9) 2000+ mile trip to Nova Scotia. Uneventful except for a flat rear tire the day before riding the trail. (I remembered to remove my fork lock each and every time!!!)

Ric Tomlinson and his Lady Sue went to North Conway for a much needed vacation, for four days. The riding was like the old days, very safe and the roads were great. We just forget how much fun riding really was. The people don't cut out and everyone gave you plenty of room. Riding the mountain road with out any cars around was like a dream. I can't say enough about the safety and beauty of North Conway country.

We drove up and pulled the Harley in our small trailer called the "toy box". We found a great Motel right in North Conway on route 16 just out the north side of the center. We ask for the rates because we had time to check out a few and got it for $60 a night, $210 for the three nights including tax. I thought that was just great. We ate out every night and found the price of dinner averaged around $15.00 and the little breakfast places charged an average of $8.00 with plenty to eat.

We took the Cog rail road to the top of Mt. Washington and that was something I have always wanted to do. If you promise to keep it between us, at 54 years young, Sue got her first tattoo on her ankle a little "butterfly" she said the butterfly was to represent the freedom you feel riding on a bike.  

2nd Annual Boston Police Sergeant Bob Guiney Memorial Run

By Teresa Lally

After having to postpone for a week because of (surprise!) rain, the 2nd Annual Sergeant Bob Guiney Memorial run was held on July 1st.

Sgt. Guiney was a Boston Policeman and harbormaster who lost a hard-fought seven year battle with cancer. He was also the older brother of one of my college roommates, so we were really looking forward to participating.

The ride started from Hull High School. The weather was perfect for riding; sunny and dry, with a breeze coming off of hull gut, making the wait for registration and for the ride to begin quite comfortable. The turnout was more than expected- over 300 bikes took part, including Dave Perewitz and Aerosmith’s Joe Perry.

The 60 mile ride was the most well-organized and well escorted that I have been on. Numerous motorcycle police and cruisers were on hand to ensure that all intersections were blocked and no cars interfered with the riders. I think I only had to put my feet down once the whole ride, and that was when we were leaving Hull. Jerusalem Rd., the winding sections of Route 3A, and numerous scenic back roads were traveled before making our way down Rte. 58 and back into Plymouth.

The after party was supposed to be held at East Bay Grille, but when the ride date had to be changed, the restaurant was already booked for the new one. Fortunately, someone graciously allowed the use of the land right by Nelson Beach and everyone got to enjoy their burgers with a great view of the beach and ocean.

Mark this one down for next year! I can’t over emphasize what a well put-together ride this was. Not only will you have a great time, you’ll be contributing to great cause as well.

Paulatiics -- Q & A             

by Paula McCallum

A few questions asked from my non-biker friends:

Q. What is your obsession with the obnoxiously loud exhausts? I just don't get it?
A. “If I had to explain, you wouldn’t understand…” While some find it offensive, many bikers find it music to the ears. It isn’t as loud when you’re sitting on the bike because the sound is coming out your rear end (but not literally). Many quote, “loud pipes save lives,” but this isn’t true because many drivers have their windows up, radios on preventing them from hearing us. It is much better to be seen by drivers than be heard. I personally like the sound of loud pipes but think that my bike sounds like a lawn mower when I’m riding it. The answer is simple, Harley's have a v-twin engine unmatched by any other manufacturer and when you change out the stock pipes for aftermarkets, you increase the performance while allowing this unique engine to sound like a bad ass. This is a similar phenomenon to 20 Something year olds who lower their cars into the weeds, put on huge spoilers, crank up the bass and change their exhausts probably by removing their catalytic converters. Only their “noise” is stupid and shitty sounding while Harley’s are low, throaty and ultimately just plain "cool".

Q. How comfy are those motorcycle seats?
A. I begged Bill to get a comfy seat for his bike before we went to Nova Scotia because I wanted to ride bitch, not be one. Now, I can go forever without needing to get off and stretch but it's nice to take a break every 1 1/2 or so. The postage sized seat on my bike is a whole other story. It gets very uncomfortable after an hour. I've been told that your ass toughens up the more you ride but I'm still buying a gel seat from Wal-Mart just in case that's false.

 

Selling the Dyna                

by Hawk Hickman

The Dyna Wide-Glide was my third motorcycle. The first two were a 1970 Triumph T100C 490CC and the second, 30 years later was a Harley Sportster. The Dyna was my favorite. I loved the color, the power and the style. It was my first really big bike and I felt like I had finally become a hard-core rider.

She served us well until our honeymoon trip to Nova Scotia last summer, with members of the club. I didn't realize that a 10 day honeymoon trip, with my wife Jane as passenger, would be so much different than riding on the local rides. Rain 7 days out of 10 didn't help. All of our clothing was constantly damp or outright wet. 2,000 miles was by far the furthest we had ever ridden in a short period of time.

When we got back, Jane and I agreed we needed something more comfortable if we were to go on any more long trips. A 2002 Road King became available, and we grabbed it. It was great. We felt like we had gone from a sports car to a Cadillac. The Dyna, although still loved, sat in the yard like a spurned lover, still gleaming, still stylish, but idle, and replaced in our hearts by the Road King.

All Fall we tried to sell it, but there were no buyers. The market was weak. Finally, we moved her out of the yard to Lou's used car lot. She languished all Winter. There were few interested parties, since the season had passed. The Dyna was all alone in the cold and dark. How could we have forsaken her?

Finally Spring arrived! A time when a young man's fancy turns to girls and bikes. Maybe a new lover would appear! Time passed, April, May, June. Surely someone would appear who would fall in love with her. At last, in July, after the price had been reduced considerably, a buyer appeared and drove her away. We felt relieved, but also guilty for the time she had spent with no one to love her. Now she has a new home and hopefully is being ridden hard and fast. The lovely Dyna. We will always remember her fondly.

Disney World for Bikers         
by Paula McCallum

What a magical ride! No standing in line upon entering this park (Custer State) as we got on our very first ride down Iron Mountain Road, weeeee! It was as thrilling as the first hill on a roller coaster with more U-turns and squiggly arrow signs than Lombard Street in San Francisco. In the opposite direction, there’s an amazing view of Mt. Rushmore framed by one of the tunnels hewn out of rock.

Our next encounter was with a lone Buffalo who just happened to be standing by the side of the road. Now come on, really! Where was the prop guy hiding who placed it there for our amusement? It stood there posing exactly like the image on the Buffalo Head Nickel (see pix on next page). Bill joked that it was really two guys dressed in a buffalo suit and after we passed they unzipped their costume saying, “Man, it’s hot in this thing!”

Winding our way through the park brought us on our next ride, the Needles Highway, with its mammoth rock formations jetting up into the sky. As we waited in line to enter a one lane tunnel, there sat what had to be a “mechanical” deer in the crevice of a rock. You could almost hear the gears turning and the buttons pushed as it perked up its ears and turned its head to smile for my camera. Where are we anyway, Universal Studios, South Dakota branch?

Occasional pit stops in tiny towns like Hill City, Deadwood, and Keystone consisted of a one main drag adorned with flat store fronts. Some had swinging saloon doors to enter their shops, casinos, T-shirt vendors or Black Hills Gold jewelry stores. The famous Wall Drug had billboards running every 50 feet on the long 80-mile stretch from Sturgis to Wall advertising anything from its chatchkes to homemade donuts or cowboy boots. Yet, one of the most interesting tourist traps around.

The scenery at the Badlands reminded me of the Grand Canyon or possibly the moon. At times, you can gaze down into the chasm while at others you’re actually riding through the striated rust to pink and yellow jagged volcanic rock. Yahoo!

This excursion would have remained postcard perfect had it not been for the blazing sun and 100+° weather for our 30-mile tour. Waaddda, wadda …

Whoever says, “Ya, but it’s a dry heat” doesn’t know what the hell they’re talking about, believe me, it’s freaking HOT. Yet, surprisingly, not quite as hot as Wounded Knee. A long spiritual trek I would not recommend to any seasoned biker. In comparison, Spearfish Canyon, heading north presented breathtaking rolling hills and waterfalls, pine trees and gulches to traverse. Devils Tower, Wyoming, according to one critic in our group, was just another humongous rock that we rode 100 miles to see. Awesome!