September 2007 news articles |
September, 2007Dragon Tales
by Paula McCallum One of our member’s, who’s name rhymes with “cherry,” had written down the wrong directions to Maggie Valley, NC which led us instead on Rte. 209. We eventually pulled over realizing that there was no stinkin’ hotel up in the woods, that is, unless we intended to stay with the Clampits! Someone suggested that we should just turn around but Bubbles, simply refused. “I don’t care if I have to sleep right here, but I am NOT going back down that road!” After witnessing her fury, we became very afraid to cross her. So we continue on to a gas station and asked a local for directions. Whether he wasn’t really sure how to give directions or whether he purposely sent us off around a mountain or two, as a funny hee haw, we’ll never know. A hundred miles later, we became leery of asking locals how to get from point A to B in the shortest amount of time. Once in Maggie Valley, Sherri lead us on mountain roads that twisted and turned exposing valleys and the picturesque blue mountains that spread further than our eyes could see. After riding Deals Gap (318 curves in 11 miles) some of our crew weren’t even aware that we’d just done it. This prompted a few thrill seekers to go back to do it again. Others conceded that this type of riding should be left to the crotch rockets. The heavier party barges, that most riders own, just aren’t made to lean into these twisting roads. Bill donated his MMR t-shirt, after we all signed it, to the Deals Gap restaurant where many others hang from the ceiling. We continued on the Blue Ridge Parkway and Skyline Drive as we wound our way back towards home. Some of our riders saw a black bear striding across our path as it then leapt over a stone wall and into the forest. Art, who was leading, needed to pull over to change his shorts! The Blue Ridge Trip totaled 2,500 miles, most of which were reminiscent of Iron Mountain Road and the Needles Highway in S. Dakota. Roads like Rte. 129 and the Blue Ridge Parkway were simply made for bikers. No pot holes or frost heaves to be found anywhere. There was talk of doing this trip again. But next time we’d trailer our bikes to Maggie Valley and use that as our base to go out from to explore the Smoky Mountains and all the south has to offer.
Our Trip to Old Orchard I thought the members of the group would like to hear about the trip Sue and I tookOld Orchard Beach. For years I went up to Maine for weekends and sometimes weeks. The last twenty years of my life have changed and I have slowed down a little. I asked Sue to join me on a little trip back to yesterday andgratefully she. It was fun to step back and revisit a place that I once made an ass out of myself playing with the Booze, Broads and Bikes! Much to my surprise the placenot changed at all. Everything was there right where I leftit. I stood quietly beside Sue drinking it all in and then I laughed "I did go back and it’s the same!" I think she thought I'd finally lost it. I want you all to know it's still gotsame-tonk atmosphere. We walked the old board walk and pier and laughedthe people that really love this kind of stuff. I guess some of them laughed at us. Canada is well represented here andFrench is heard all around us. One little girl walked up to us and asked if we spoke French, we shook our heads "no". She made a face and said "Dunkin Donuts" we smiled and pointed across the street. Seeknow French LOL! I will say that the food was great and not expensive. The best part of the trip was Lobster, single $9.95, double $17.95 and steamers galore. We did noton the beach we stayed about five miles away on Route 1. We cruised along Rte.and I said. "Let's take a left and see what we see." We turned onto. 22 and headed north, it was a bikers dream. Farms, clean air and no cars, we rode for hourstheand just loved it. The beautifulof fresh cut hay was in the air. Theof the trip were the stupid things. We got caught in the worst thunderstorm I've been in in years. We got soaked to the bones. When we finally got back to our motel we dried off and took a nap. When we got up the sun was shining and we went out for dinner on the bike. Sue loved the shops around the beach and boughtfor her friends' and her brothers' birthday. Sue isin life. She spottedtattoo parlor and went in and that did it, one more tattoo. She is just too funny. If you would like to check out some pictures you can go to: HTTP://community.webshots.com/user/taximan429 and click on "One ofpictures albums" and enjoy some of our summer fun. One of these days I want to do a group run and get it on my picture page. We want to thank you for joining us.
Meet the Newbies Mary Ann and I wanted to do more rides this summer and were looking for new riding companions when I found you guys on Boston Biker's web site. On my first trip to Gellar's, we went to a wake for a member of the Upland Riders. I didn't know the man but went anyway out of respect for a brother biker. Leaving the funeral home, I tagged along with the group ending up at the waterfront in Plymouth. Lee, Debbie, Bill, Paula, Scooter Lou and Butch are some of the people I met that night, all were outgoing. We joined in August and have made a couple of rides since and are pleased to be members. I started riding the summer of 1968. My first motorcycle was a 1963 Triumph Bonneville, think, Lucas electrics a.k.a. the Prince of Darkness. There have been several dirt bikes, a R80ST Beemer, a Honda CB750F sports bike, a Harley FXR and currently I own a Harley 1998 Road Glide touring bike. I have ridden to Sturgis twice from Rhode Island and have trailered out several other times. There has been at least one motorcycle in my garage for almost 40 years now. Mary Ann and I met in Jan. 2004 and she has been riding with me since Daytona of that year. Last summer we made a 28 day trip we call our Great Lakes/Sturgis trip. We saw all 5 Great Lakes meandering Buffalo, NY, southern Ontario, Bad Axe, Michigan (where I met up with an old Army buddy), the Upper Peninsula of Michigan, Lake Itasca in Minnesota (headwaters of the Mississippi River) on route to trailer week in Sturgis (yeah we trailered). We took many bike rides out of our campsite in Hill City, SD that week including a 250 mile ride through northeastern Wyoming by way of Devil's Tower, who knows we may have crossed paths on that trip? The western most point we rode to was Worland in Wyoming from a cabin we rented the following week in Buffalo, Wyoming. Our favorite spot on that ride was Ten Sleep Canyon in the Big Horn Mountains. We are happily retired and live most of the year in Edgewater, FL which is 19 miles south of Daytona Beach and spend the summers (when we’re not traveling) on Cape Cod.
Dragon Slayer We all have our personal Dragons to slay. Some of them are physical and some are mental. One of my most fearsome Dragons appeared in my mind around the beginning of July. We were preparing for our trip to Deal's Gap and the Blue Ridge Parkway, and several people kept mentioning the exceptionally challenging piece of roadway called the Tail of the Dragon. My mind began to summon up images of fearsomely difficult hairpin turns, with motorcycles roaring through the curves at full tilt, for mile upon mile. I would break out in a cold sweat occasionally and visualize myself leaving the road and careening down a steep embankment. I began to wonder if I had gotten myself in over my head. July 13th was the big day. We departed Massachusetts and headed down through PA and into VA. The first two days were pounding highway miles, and after a few minor incidents (bungied bags dragging on the ground, cameras flying through the air), we arrived at the area where the "fire-breathing dragon" lived. I began to feel a higher degree of apprehension as Dragon Day approached, and went to speak with Terry Quinn about my concerns. We came to a decision that it was better to be safe than sorry if the course was as challenging as we had been led to believe, and that we would "sit out" the ride at the restaurant at the beginning of the course, while the more experienced riders (most carrying no passenger)their way through. We both had passengers on board that we cared for very much and were concerned for their well-being. This decision having been made, I was finally able to relax. The next morning we departed for the Dragon area, and everything was going fairly well until we hit a stretch of road with lots of curves and hairpin turns. It was similar to the Needles Highway we rode in Sturgis last year, and so we were able to get through it. It required all of my concentration and I was grateful for the Sturgis experience. Finally we arrived at a restaurant and were off the road, when all of a sudden everyone started laughing and shouting that we had just completed the Tail of the Dragon. I couldn't believe it! It was a very challenging ride, but nothing like what I had conjured up in my mind. That's when I received my trip nickname, “Dragon Slayer,” of which I am quite proud. There is a moral here. One should avoid building up fears in one's mind in advance of one of life's many challenges. It is necessary to evaluate the challenge in and of itself, and then simply to prepare adequately. Thinking about it in advance, listening to others, perhaps embellishing and exaggerating the challenge, only serves to make the overcoming of the challenge more difficult. Other Dragons appeared on the trip, and I will have to eventually slay them as well, but that's a story for another day. Hawk - Dragon Slayer by Gail “Bubbles” Quinn We'd all been anxiously awaiting the opportunity to ride the world-famous Tail of the Dragon in Deal's Gap, and the hotel in Maggie Valley was our gateway to that ride. According to our directions, we were supposed to get off at exit 24. After what seemed a very long time, climbing higher up a mountain, with the road becoming increasingly deserted, narrow and less well paved, with night falling and some of our group getting low on gas, we stopped at the side of the road to assess our situation. Art Lally called our hotel (thank God for Verizon, which got much better reception than any other cell carrier our members brought on the trip).The Lovely Lady on the other end of the line with Art told us the only way to get to her hotel was to turn around and goup and then down that GD mountain and then proceed to the correct exit which was #20! GO BACK? ...GO BACK? We'd just traversed 25 miles of hairpin double turns on cracked and broken pavement!BACK those 25 miles to where we started? The map that Teresa, Katherine and I consulted told us that the mountain road we were on was essentially a circle which rose up into a mountain, then descended to pretty much where we'd started. It looked like if we went FORWARD about 7 miles, we'd be off the mountain and at the crossroad of a marked route. It looked like alarge road where weto be able to find gas, water, rest rooms and directions to the hotel! Why in God's name then would we go BACK25 miles and chance running out of gas, darkness falling, bears,deer, having to pee in the woods, dehydration, malnutrition, dueling banjos, and some local yokelBilly he had "mighty pretty lips?" In the equivalent of "stamping my foot," I said - "Oh, no...I am NOT going back up that mountain.freaking way!'ll stay here overnight and you can come back for me in the morning!"Apparently I'd already forgotten thatfalling, bears, deer, peeing in the woods, dehydration, malnutrition,banjos, and some local yokelMEIhad "mighty pretty lips"was an even more likely scenario if I carried through with my ridiculous threat to stay there by myself if everyone else opted to turn back up that mountain, than if I just shut up and got back on the bike and rode back with everybody else! Which, by the way, is exactly what I'd have done in a heartbeat, the second the group got on their bikes and headed that way!only goes so far, you know. But, hey, in the middle of a hissy fit a girl can't be responsible for the ridiculous nature of her threats or the irrationality of her analysis.something like that. The long and the short of it was that wiser heads prevailed and the group opted to move forward the seven or so miles to where we could find a gas station.we did find the station - which is where we got our second set of directions from a local.was very pleasant, "No, problem, I can get you right to that hotel.Just take a left and go up..." No, we didn't go back up that freakin' mountain, but using Mr. Local's directions, it sure wasn'tshort ride to the hotel even from there! We soon learned that when a bunch of Yankee bikers ask a Local for directions, they will mess with your head to the maximum extent their little brains are capable - which, now that I, about it, may well have beenmotivation fordirections we got from the Lovely Lady at the hotel! We did of course eventually arrive at our destination- the hotel in Maggie Valley.That night some of us went to a local Italian place nearby and got the biggest apple turnover you will EVER see!that's a story for another time. We also did ride the Tail of the Dragon, and it was really great!But after riding the Local Mountain Road to Hissy-Fits-ville, the Tail of the Dragon seemed likepiece of cake! Wish you all could have been there!
High Times & High Pipes The Wheels Through Time Museum by Teresa Lally One of the highlights of our trip down South was a visit to the Wheels Through Time Museum in Maggie Valley, North Carolina. The museum is home to over 250 vintage American motorcycles and automobiles (more bikes than cars), most pre-1950. Motorcycles from 24 brands and 9 decades are represented. Though the museum has only been in its current location since 1991, you would have to say that the beginnings go back much further, probably to when founder Dale Walksler built his first bike at age 16. A short time later, he became the youngest Harley-Davidson dealership owner, opening a shop in Illinois. Throughout the years, he seemed to have a knack for finding and collecting bikes and bike parts that would become scarce and hard to find. In his museum you will see bikes and motors that are one of 6 (or 5, or 300, you get the picture) ever made, some specimens that Harley-Davidson themselves don’t even have! In 1989, Dale purchased a car collection from a friend and housed it in a 13,000 square foot building adjacent to his dealership. However, motorcycles remained his passion and Wheels Through Time was born in 1992. In 2001, larger space was needed. Dale had sold his dealership and decided that Maggie Valley, near the beautiful Smoky Mountains and in the heart of incredible roads for riding, was the place. 10 months and 91,000 miles later, the museum was fully located in its new home. Our group was fortunate enough to be given a personalized tour by Dale’s son Matt, who was a wealth of knowledge about the bikes and full of interesting stories about the fortuitous events that often happened to bring missing parts of bikes together to make them complete. In the back corner of the museum is a small garage/shop that was moved here in its entirety. Dale purchased it from an older man he had become friendly with and who was ready to retire. This man had the foresight (or just didn’t like to throw anything away) to collect motorcycle parts, storing them in cans of oil. To this day, when they are restoring a bike or need a part for one, they go into the shop and often find just what they need! While we were there, Scott asked Dale about a set of high pipes that his step brother had been looking for for his 1960 Sportster. It is a racing bike; one of 300 made, that he bought in pieces in milk crates and has been slowly and faithfully restoring. One part that has eluded him has been the high pipes. He has looked all over for them, missed getting them on E-bay when his computer crashed (causing him much angst), and has not been able to find a set anywhere. Well, Dale says he thinks he has a couple of sets and to call him in a couple of weeks. When we get home we find out Russell is getting married soon, August 26. They requested no gifts, but Scott thinks a set of high pipes will make the perfect wedding present. Dale agrees, he sends up the best set he can find and they get here four days before the wedding. They were a big hit at the pre-wedding brunch, though not everybody knew what they were. Anyway, if you’re in the area, be sure to make this a stop. Or even if you’re not, Scott plans on driving down for a weekend just so he can spend the whole day here, as we were limited on time and had to leave after about an hour and a half. (He’s also hoping Dale will adopt him, but I think he’s out of luck there). You won’t be disappointed and Dale, Matt and everybody else at the museum will make you feel welcome. If you want to find out more, go to: www.wheelsthroughtime.com.
Living the Song by Dennis Pierce MacArthur Park, for those of you who haven’t heard the song, was written by Jimmy Webb and performed by Richard Harris (also known as the Hobo Singer). The lyrics really strike a chord deep in my heart. In the song Richard Harris laments… “Someone left the cake out in the rain, I don't think that I can take it, 'Cause it took so long to bake it, And I'll never have that recipe again” Of course, this is a metaphor and the ingredients in this recipe have nothing to do with flour, sugar and spices and everything to do with the wonderful people and places that come together in our lives in a special blend that can never be recreated. The longer you live, the more meaning the lyrics bear. You find yourself “living the song.” For those of us who were fortunate enough to have known her, Terry Bradford was one of those treasured ingredients in the recipe of life. Thankfully, we have our memories. The mind is an amazing vehicle. It can take us to places that no longer exist and to revisit loved ones that are no longer with us. My memories of Terry are fond and many and I’m sure that can be said for all that had the pleasure to know her. Terry was one of the most selfless people you’d ever meet. I could easily fill a book with examples but this is a newsletter article not a novel so I’ll give you just one. Terry was a cancer survivor. She courageously fought thyroid cancer and won, then a number of years later was stricken again with colon cancer and fought gallantly for years until the very end. But through it all, it was easy to forget just how gravely ill Terry was because she wasn’t one of those people who complained about every little ass ache. With Terry it wasn’t all about her, it was all about you, no matter how tough things got. I marveled at that during one of my final visits with her at the Jordan Hospital. Even though she was dealing with hardships few of us know, I never heard her complain once. God called her home on December 11, 2006. It was hard to believe that just months prior, on August 6, the day after her 50th birthday, she was so instrumental in putting together a benefit for Billy Walsh and his family. Billy was a good friend battling brain cancer. I know many of the MMR participated in the ride that day as did many others. Terry put every ounce of energy she had into that event raffling items off to benefit Billy’s family. I even had to encourage her to stop long enough to eat. She left that event totally exhausted. I talked to Terry’s sister Ginny later that night. She told me Terry came over to her house after the event and just collapsed into an armchair and said, “I can really use a drink.” No wonder her family members jokingly dubbed her Saint Theresa. Like I said, with Terry it wasn’t all about her, it was all about family, friends and loved ones. The way she lived reminded me a lot of my mother, which is why I think Terry and I always had such a special connection. So when I saw her that day at Billy Walsh’s benefit, this selfless spirit always willing to lend a hand regardless of her own circumstances, it did something to me deep down inside and I knew this day would have to come. The Terry Bradford Memorial Ride to the Tide, September 23, 2007. MacArthur Park is melting in the rain so let’s create some new memories amongst new friends while remembering our old ones.
Dear Lee, DEAR TOWHEAD, Lee, DEAR MR PROSTATE, P.S. ALL YOU OTHER PEOPLE THAT RIDE WITH HIM, LET HIM RIDE LAST. THE WIND MAY LIFT THE DEPENDS. THAT WON`T BE RAINDROPS YOU WILL BE FEELING! Dear Lee, DEAR BILL,
Dear Lee, DEAR FEELING GUILTY,
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