Maturity

Motorcycle joys mature with age and experience. Even though I was a fully grown adult when I start riding motorcycles I still had some growing up to do when it came to acting sensibly.

I had been interested in riding for years but no one I knew rode a motorcycle until the winter I got a job as a bartender down in Charlotte Amalie, St Thomas. My brother, Brian, was teaching school down there, riding his motorcycle to and from work. That was all the impetus I needed. My time had arrived.

At the age of 30, I purchased a 500cc Triumph Trophy. I taught myself the basics, with special emphasis on safety since I was scared to death of dying. Thus began my riding career. I have owned numerous motorcycles and I have been riding ever since.

Over the years, the joys I get from riding my motorcycle have matured. I still get a charge accelerating up steep hills. The roar of the engine is like that of a tiger just released from a cage expressing its need for freedom. But now when I get to the top of the hill I back off on the throttle a bit. Instead of continuing my hell-bent roar like I used to do early on, I look down the road ahead of me, the road I just crested, to see what lies beyond. If the road ahead is full of twists and turns and properly pitched pavement I might – no, I would – continue the roar. There is nothing like a good motorcycle road. Ahh! The Tail of the Dragon, Rte 129, down in Deals Gap, NC, 318 turns in 11miles. Whoo-whee! Now there’s a motorcycle road. OK…maybe I have not fully matured – yet.

I no longer take main highways either, unless absolutely necessary. I prefer the back roads as mentioned in the previous blog. First of all, you are not screaming down a four (six, eight) lane highway just to keep up with the chore-focused frenzy. Few folk are enjoying that drive. They have their eyes locked down the highway desperately looking for the off ramp. Where’s the off ramp… where’s the off ramp?

Highways are dangerous. Every road is dangerous but highways with their high speeds, wild-weaving traffic patterns, and wind-gusting monster trucks are particularly deadly. Yeah, a back road is a wiser choice.

For the most part I drive slower now too. I enjoy the ride more than the speed and it is a lot safer. Since the advent of cell phones/smart phones the dangers on the roads for all drivers have increased exponentially. This is especially true for motorcyclists. Drivers who text and drive are 23 times more likely to have an accident. And as if that isn’t scary enough, texting and driving is six times more dangerous than DRUNK DRIVING!

I live on Long Island, NY which is a densely populated area with way too much traffic. Except for extended trips with my brothers I seldom ride my bike anymore except for an occasional jaunt over the bay bridges to our barrier island where traffic is light and nature is near. Aside from the necessity for safety, slowing down also enhances sensory awareness. The Atlantic Ocean washes the shore there. You can see it, hear it, and smell it.

Roadside stream

On our latest trip through the Adirondacks that sensory awareness was most welcome. I was able to enjoy glimpses of a high, thin waterfall cascading down a heavily-forested cliff side. I could hear the joyous shrieks of children splashing in the icy waters of the boulder-strewn stream that meandered alongside the roadway. I could smell the green of freshly harvested corn fields. The pungent odors of horse manure and a pancaked skunk wrinkled my nose before being left quickly behind.

I have also learned not to ride in the rain. That sounds like a no-brainer but it is not always possible to anticipate when and where you might encounter inclement weather. On this latest trip, we had the modern convenience of smart phones with weather apps. We had heard on the news that a violent storm was to pass through the area so when we left Fort Ticonderoga to gas up, we checked the weather.

An interesting aside here. Fort Ticonderoga is not a state or national park. It is privately owned and presently run by a non-profit organization, funded by donations and park admission fees. It was purchased by the Pell family and restored after decades of neglect. They have done a great job and the fort is worth visiting for its vistas as well as for its history, including reenactments of the Revolutionary War era.

But back to the bad weather. A front with heavy rains and high winds extended from Canada down to Long Island, and was headed east. We were headed west towards Saranac Lake and there was no way to punch through that front without encountering the storm. So we just stayed put for six hours talking about forgiveness. Motorcycle joys mature with age and experience.

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Back roads lead everywhere

Take back roads whenever possible. I just got back from a five day, 1000 mile long motorcycle  trip with my two brothers through a bit of New York State’s Adirondack Mountains. Wherever possible we took back roads.

As mentioned in the first blog (The Journey is the Destination) on this website, both of my brothers enjoy motorcycling. Each of us took up the hobby at different times, and has had differing experiences, but because of our common interest we ride together whenever possible.

Our usual outings are to visit tri-state markers – just because they’re there – and because their locations are usually so far out in the boondocks they provide an excuse for us to go exploring. So far we have visited 18 of the 36 dry land markers.

Last week the three of us took a trip to the Adirondacks. This was our so-called “Lake” trip, because of all the lakes we visited: Lake George, Lake Champlain, Saranac Lake, Lake Placid, Mirror Lake, Great Sacandaga Lake and Colgate Lake. In addition we took a side trip to the summit of Whiteface Mountain, took in Au Sable Chasm, and visited with friends and family.

And we took back roads. Some pass through towns so small there isn’t even a cross street, where houses crowd right to the edge of the road, with old folks sitting on their porches who wave as you pass by. In some towns the road takes you passed paint-peeling buildings with sagging roofs that testify to a lack of work ethic. They are crumbling, dilapidated towns with barefoot children playing in the dirt too close to the road and dogs that chase you for a lap or so. Some roads circle through proud towns with meticulously mowed lawns, pots of bright flowers hung on parking meters, enormous American flags flopping lazily atop high flag poles in front of the volunteer fire departments and city halls. Each road has its own personality. Every road is unique.

Back roads take longer to traverse so you need to allow more time if you have a timetable to maintain. But that extra time is never wasted, even when you get delayed at a railroad crossing by a freight train pulling in excess of 100 cars. Depending on its speed you can be there a while. You turn off the bike, dismount, retrieve some water from your saddle bags, stretch your legs (that needed stretching though you had not yet noticed), lean back up against the bike, and watch the hawks circling unhurriedly overhead. Then, with one or two last deep knee bends, and a wave to the lone workman in the back of the caboose, you mount your bike and you’re on your way again. You never even consider checking your watch.

Some back roads become dirt roads. They are dangerous because of the loose gravel but they are the only roads that can take you to where the few choose to travel. You’ll need a good map, a gazetteer if you can find one, because dirt roads have a way of becoming narrow trails that just might turn into nearly impassable pathways. You know the ones; the ones leading to the abandoned quarry that’s now filled with water. There is always a tree by the water’s edge with a rope tied to one of its limbs for swinging out over its mirror-like waters.  Kids will be kids. Or the trail that leads to a long-ago-abandoned fire tower with its broken-slatted ladder climb to the top for vista views of hazy mountains in distant states. You’ll have to swing a leg off your bike and hike a bit to get to most of these destinations but the exercise is good for you and it’s fun.

I know. We cannot follow every dirt road wherever they all lead. There just isn’t time in a single life-time. But there is time to follow a few. Look for the thinnest lines you can find on your gazetteer. They are the roads that lead from where you are, to where you want to go, but do not yet know how to get there. Follow them. They will surprise you with the most revelations. They yield unsolicited knowledge. They are a bit edgy.

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Brian, Tom and Greg at the SD/MT/WY tri-state marker

My two brothers (Brian and Greg) and I have enjoyed motorcycling, cumulatively, for over 100 years. When we can, we ride together. We currently ride cruising bikes capable of limited off-road use to enable us to go exploring. I ride a 1992 Kawasaki 750 Vulcan; Brian a 1992 Honda 750 Nighthawk; Greg a 2002 Suzuki 805 Intruder. We only dare travel 100 miles between refuelings so range is a serious on-going problem especially on our more remote trips.
We have explored much of LI from NYC to Montauk Point (check out the dirt trails north of Montauk Hwy. near the Lobster Roll Restaurant.) We have also explored most of Connecticut on three trips via the ferries over to Bridgeport and New London.
So where to next?
As we discussed our trips we realized that it was the journey we enjoyed. It’s the ride! The journey is the destination.
So…pick a destination, any destination.
Greg found a piece in a local paper about the NY/MA/CT tri-state marker. I recalled having hiked to that monument many years earlier on a camping trip with our father. So that became our next adventure. We rode the bikes as close to the marker as we could and hiked in the rest of the way, a small rock cairn indicating where we had to leave the trail to search the nearby woods.
So far we have visited 12 of 38 dry land tri-state markers, excluding the Four Corners (UT/CO/AZ/NM) and one for the District of Columbia. (Google “the corner corner” for directions and details.)
We visited the local tri-state markers first and then during the summer 06, on a trip to Sturgis, we did four more (OH/MI/IN; MN/SD/IA; MT/WY/SD; SD/WY NE.) We use the Atlas Gazetteer maps from DeLorme electing to take the most scenic and/or the faintest map lines shown if possible. Many roads are unpaved, some no more than trails, adding to the edgy enjoyment of our explorations. Use of a battery operated, hand-held GPS is under discussion. Searching out these markers has taken us places we probably would never have gone, meeting people we probably would never have met.
On one of our last trips while returning to base after locating our latest marker we took a wrong turn (somewhere) and wound up lost (somewhere) on this great motorcycle road. It was an ideal sweep of lefts and rights, of ups and downs with the pavement perfectly pitched. That ride home at dusk was the righteous ending to a glorious day.
Later Brian reminded me that even when you’re lost, when the journey is your destination, you’re always home

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