The 85th anniversary of Laconia Motorcycle Week is coming up on us fast (not to mention that it’s a little late this year-starting on Father’s Day rather than ending on it)! In my neck of the woods it’s a clear sign that summer is finally here and what better way to kick it off than to gather thousands of bikers for the oldest rally in the country, in a sleepy New Hampshire town?
Even though the town itself is small, there’s definitely no shortage of events: ranging from New England-style clam bakes, lots of motorcycle demos, music, The Ride to the Sky up Mt. Washington (which I could devote an entire post to, it’s so amazing!), hill climbs and races, beautiful scenic roads to ride on and of course, lots of vendors.
Rippin-Kitten, Ride to the Sky, June 2007
Last year I was able to attend the rally for almost a week. Unfortunately I won’t have the same luxury this year, but I do plan to go up for at least a day trip. If you live or are going to be visiting a near by area, I suggest you do the same.
We finally got a NICE weekend here in New England for a change (it’s been raining for about the past EIGHT!). Despite the best efforts of the meteorologists to tell me that it was going to rain they were thankfully proven wrong.
It was nice to spend some good, quality time with my metal-baby, giving it a good detailing since I busted it out of winter slumber. I know that everyone has a different method to their madness when it comes to cleaning their bikes, but I still swear by my own method (which I wrote about in detail last year). There’s such a great amount of gratification to see all of that chrome glistening in the sun after you spend time cleaning it up (here’s the pictorial from last year so you can see the difference!).
Yesterday we (along with everyone else and their motorcycles) went for a nice, relaxing ride up the coast to Gloucester. The weather couldn’t have been more perfect (although there were those few jackasses that you see riding around in short sleeved shirts, shorts and sandals…*sigh*). We stopped off for lunch: embarking on the the first of the summer seafood season that is paramount in this region, and soaked in some afternoon sun before heading back home.
I’ve somehow remained optimistic through the month of February and managed to keep my mood elevated, but I’m finally fed up with winter. I sit here in bed, having called in sick from work. My doctor diagnosed me with bronchitis this morning (which I’ve had for 2 months now). It’s 14 degrees outside and we’re hunkering down for yet another snow storm tonight.
Last night I finally had my winter frustration meltdown. I’m sick of snow and cold weather. I’m tired of layering up my clothes to stay warm. I’m ready for warmer weather and open-toed shoes. I’d even be happy with some rainy days as long as it was warmer outside. Today is the last day of February and March usually brings more optimism.
Ok, no more complaining. I’m going to settle into bed and try to get better.
Well, we got hit with massive amounts of snow last Thursday and again yesterday. Last night the weather dude said we got more snow in the past two storms than we did all last year.
The date of October 15, for most people, isn’t a very special day. But on this day four years ago my life changed forever. I knew when I started this blog that I’d have to tell this story some day.
So here it is:
My best friend (who is now my husband) almost died in a motorcycle accident on October 15, 2003. It was raining heavily that night and instead of riding his motorcycle on the highway, he decided to ride back roads home instead. He didn’t give it a second thought. He had his rain gear and was used to riding in all kinds of weather. He had been in worse storms than this particular one.
The accident itself is hard to determine, but what we think happened is that he got to a rotary area and was forced into the guardrail by a cab. He was thrown from the bike and the cab never stopped (and no one ever came forward). Luckily there was a gas station across the street and the guys there called an ambulance.
I got a call on my cell phone around 4:45 am. When I saw his number calling I thought it was a case of him drunk dialing until I heard a woman’s voice on the line and she told me she was calling from Boston Medical Center and the only words I really focussed on was motorcycle accident.
My apartment at the time had a skylight and the rain was just pounding on it. I remember for a split-second wondering why was he out riding in this weather? and why didn’t he catch a ride with someone else? But that thought was replaced by the urgent need to get to the hospital. I threw on whatever clothes were close by and was at the hospital ten minutes later.
While I waited I called some of our friends and his sister, since his parents were out of the country on vacation. A bunch of people came to the hospital and kept vigil with me.
After 5 hours of waiting with zero information, the vascular surgeon finally came out and told us the extent of his injuries: his spleen had been punctured and removed, seven ribs broken and a collapsed lung, a large gash on his leg, 3 broken metacarpals and oh yeah, his left arm was almost severed: his humorous was shattered and the major nerve, veins and arteries were also severed. They had to transplant a large artery from his right leg into his left arm, which seemed to work because there was blood circulation going to his hand.
in the SICU the day after the accident
His spent the first three days in the SICU (surgical intensive care unit) unconscious and intubated and an additional two days there after he woke up. He had another surgery to fix his shattered bone by inserting a titanium rod and reconnect the nerve. Then he spent an additional week in the rehab ward. The doctors took photos of the entire surgery, but I’ll spare you guys those gory details!
The day after the accident, the left image is the temporary “erector set” to keep the broken bones in place, the right image is a picture of his broken hand with the pins still in place.
The aftermath of having his spleen removed and his right leg where they had to take a vein to put into his arm.
The day the stitches were removed.
A year of pain, physical therapy and lots of determination helped him regain almost full dexterity in his hand, although his ring finger and pinkie finger remain numb due to nerve damage and he’s lost almost all of the muscle mass in his hand. To this day he cannot use his bicep muscle in his left arm (meaning he cannot bend his arm using the muscle) but he’s good at compensating for it in different ways. People don’t even realize there’s something wrong with his arm unless they see the scars or we tell them about the accident.
This experience has not deterred our enjoyment of motorcycles. A month after the accident my husband was daydreaming of riding again. Less than six months later he was back up and riding. And that summer I got my motorcycle license (although I did waffle on the decision beforehand). I’m sure everyone thinks we’re nuts but it’s a big part of our lives that we enjoy.
Maybe it’s a bit corny but the course of our lives changed that night. We each got a huge wake up call and a new outlook on life. It made us realize that life doesn’t wait for you to get your shit together, so get out there and try to accomplish all of the things you dream of. We are thankful to have each other every day. When this time of year rolls around we can’t help but to be grateful that the result of that accident didn’t go another way. And while it’s a day I don’t always want to remember, it’s a day I won’t ever forget.
Living in Massachusetts, it’s easy for me to hop on my motorcycle and be in New Hampshire, Vermont, Maine, Rhode Island or Connecticut in an hour. Some of the most beautiful fall foliage around is in the White Mountains of New Hampshire. The Green Mountains of Vermont are fun to ride, but since all the trees are pine they don’t change color and it’s just not as pretty.
So each year, along with thousands of other bikers (and way too many cagers) I try and ride up to the Kancamangus or out to the Mohawk Trail in the Berkshire Mountains for a brisk ride and soak in all the wonders of nature in New England.
This week is peak foliage time. Unfortunately, the weatherman says that this weekend we will get bamboozled with a rain storm. Trying to peep leafs on twisty mountain switchbacks in the rain with leaves all over the ground is not my idea of fun. I guess if I can’t go to New Hampshire this week I’ll probably try and head to a more southerly Massachusetts or Connecticut Valley location for next week. Either way it will be time to slap the windshield on my bike and wrap myself head to toe in black leather so I can be nice and toasty for the fall riding season.
Here’s another self-created video post. This past weekend we had great weather so I took the Vulcan Custom out for a ride to NH where we hit the shooting range. It was my first time shooting a gun and although I was really nervous when we got there, I did great (hit the bulls-eye on the first shot!). We then rode east to Seacoast Harley Davidson to window shop and then made a pit stop in Hampton, NH at North Beach (that’s the part of the video where you can barely understand what I’m saying, ha ha!) to watch the surfers and parasailers before heading home.
It was a great day. And my video editing skills are improving quite a bit, too! By the way, I’ve got a new song, “Scary Kitty” featured in the video (got rid of that awful banjo music!) by my friends, the Missing out of NYC. So, BIG thanks to them for letting me use their song. They rock hard!
This weekend was the first time that the feeling of fall was evident. There was a crispness in the air, some leaves that have fallen from trees were swirling around on the ground and the need for a jacket or sweatshirt apparent.
Unfortunately for me, that also means that riding time is dwindling. Kawasaki graciously extended more time with the Vulcan Custom, which is really generous. But I also feel like maybe I’m letting them down a bit. This is my first experience ever of doing a product review. I have been riding it every chance I get and I think that I have been really good at conveying my opinions about the motorcycle objectively—after all I need to keep it honest and true to my readers. I’ve been waiting to do a final thoughts kind of thing until I give it back, just in case something should jump out at me before then. Other than that, I’m not really sure what else I should be doing.
This weekend everyone was out on their motorcycles, bundled up to brave the chilliness. Added layers of clothing definitely make fall riding more comfortable, but also reflect the kick-off of autumn. We know what’s in store for us in the next few months: more layers of clothing, hot cider, pumpkins and motorcycle trips to mountain areas for fall foliage peeping. The summer is all but gone, the cold is coming in and soon the motorcycle will have to go into it’s winter slumber.
I was looking forward to riding down to Cape Cod for multiple personal reasons and because I was finally going to take the Vulcan out for a good, long ride. The weather was hot-the thermometer read 91 degrees and the sun was blazing.
From Salem to Provincetown, according to Google, is 141 miles. Taking some backroads instead of highway the entire way, the trip was more like 155 miles.
This was the first time I had to pack any gear on the Vulcan and if you have seen the bike, you know it’s not set up to be a pack mule. I put my stuff into a dufflebag, which ended up sitting on the passenger seat. As I was going to bungee the bag down, I realized that the fender rails had no holes on the bottom side (like so many other bikes do) for the bungees to hold on to. The best thing I could do was hook one around the foot pegs and another under the fender itself. Note to Kawasaki engineers: give users a place to put bungee cords.
We left Salem and hit the highway around 10:30 am. This was the first time I got the Vulcan onto the highway and paid close attention to how it handled. I noticed a lot of vibration as I hit the speed limit and got a lot of hand-stinging bike vibration at 70 mph (um, Kawasaki peeps…not that I was speeding while riding this borrowed bike or anything! ‘k, thanks.). I don’t know if I eventually got used to the vibration or if the bike itself mellowed out but after ten minutes I barely noticed anymore.
On my Volusia I have highway bars with pegs, which is helpful to stretch my legs out on longer rides. The nice thing about the placement of the foot pegs on the Vulcan is that I didn’t have a problem stretching my legs out on them, they’re nicely placed for riding comfort.
We blasted down 95 and 93 south, through Boston and picked up Rt. 3A in Quincy-my hometown and home to a couple of dead presidents. We rode some twisty backroads through some of the more affluent Boston suburbs, then into more rural areas. Then we hopped on to Rt 3 to take us to the Sagamore Bridge, which for the first time in my life, was a pleasure. (For the past 3 years they have been doing construction in order to eliminate a rotary (a roundabout for all my UK peeps) which usually blocked traffic for miles). Up and over the bridge and we were finally on the Cape of Cod. Rt 6 and 6A took us down to the house where our surfer friends were staying in Welfleet.
After we unloaded the bikes we headed down to Provincetown (P-Town to us locals) to the absolute furthest point on the Cape, while the boys went surfing over at the beach.
Live webcam shot with real time photo of Cahoon Hollow Beach and the Atlantic Ocean from the Beachcomber.
One of my yearly traditions when I’m down the Cape is to get some fried clams and a root beer for lunch. I also pick up some dessert-type goodies for everyone from one of Provincetown’s many candy stores. If you have never been to P-Town before here is the low down: lots of motorcycles end up there and lots of gays-as it is a huge vacation destination for them. The main strip is arranged like this: art gallery, bar, candy store, restaurant, adult toy store, t-shirt shop…repeat for the next 3 miles.
Entering P-town, parking the Vulcan and a plate of delicious fried clams
Inside one of P-town’s many candy shops.
We had a large dinner with our friends, had some dessert (I ended up getting some fudge for everyone) and all the boys commenced with their monthly stogie night-sipping scotch and smoking cigars. Even though I was tired from the day’s ride, we stayed up to the wee hours of the morning.
Unfortunate for us, the next morning was overcast and cold. It was much cooler than the previous day-30 degrees cooler and 90% humidity. Luckily we packed our leathers and some warmer clothes, but it was still a miserable ride home (especially while hungover!). Our intention was to stop off at the last day of the Boston Tattoo Convention, but we were so cold, damp and tired that we headed straight home narrowly missing a parade blocking off the only road in and out of the cape.
Round trip we topped a little over 300 miles, not too shabby for a little weekend ride.
The guys over at Choppahead are the kind of guys that girls love and moms fear. Based in Boston, these guys are old school hardcore/punk kids that decided to build bikes with names like Snotrokkit, Widow Maker, Destroyer, Muthaforker and Lucretia (my favorite!).
They describe themselves as “raw, low-down, grimy, greasy, dirtbaggy, unsavory clusterfuck of a shop that pulls off some pretty clean and class rides. We ride, and we build, back-to-basics old style chops and kustoms….Gritty, Loud, Fast, Dangerous, and DIY through and through!”
Welcome to the next generation of bikers, bitches!
The guys at Choppahead sell a lotta shwag, including dvds. Here’s a clip for “Chopper Animals & Mayhem Machines Volume 2.”
