Part Seven - Non-stop to New JerseyBob and I headed south towards Maine with the plan to ride until about 5 PM and then find a place to camp for the night. Unfortunately we weren't aware that it was the week of the State Fair and there wasn't a campsite or motel room available anywhere we checked. Actually, it had been raining most of the afternoon so camp sites really were not much of an option anyway. While stopped for dinner we pulled out the map and evaluated our options. We didn't have many -- besides sit on the side of the road and hope another Bernie pulled-up -- so we decided to ride on into the night. About 8 PM the rain lifted and there was a surreal combination of clouds and mist and there were few cars on the road. A short time later we pulled over to discuss whether to try again to find a motel with a vacancy, but decided instead to enjoy the dry pavement and lack of traffic. About the time we hit the Boston Beltway -- sometime after Midnight I think -- we also hit one of the worst rain storms I've ever ridden through. Mist kicked-up by the tractor trailer rigs blowing by in the left lane at 70 mph reduced visibility to about 50 feet, but that was about normal for a Beemer/2 at night. The headlights on /2 Beemers are so dim that riding at night was an act of faith. The tail ligh is worse. It is about the size of coke can and barely visible on a crystal clear night. So riding along at 1 AM in the driving rain on my dull black R60/2 I was more or less in the stealth mode, and more than once I would cringe as a set of headlights painted me with every increasing intensity before swerving into passing lane. One set of headlights got extremely close and then did a little dance instead of zooming past. A short while later the driver of that car passed and was kind enough to suggest I pray by pointing his middle finger toward heaven. I'd seen that same gesture quite a bit while passing through Montreal so I figured the guy was a Canadian. Propelled by 87 Octane gas and black coffee we continued south. By about 4 AM the rain had lifted and the mist as the rain evaporated was surreal and hypnotic in the breaking dawn light. Somewhere around Hartford I hit a lane divider reflector or something and was snapped out of my reverie. I had fallen asleep, for God knows how long, while my Beemer hummed along South. I signalled to Bob that it was time for another coffee break. By 6 a.m. we were on one of the commuting routes leading to New York City. Traffic was very heavy and the drivers were competing like it was the Indy 500. I thought, "Gee, we must be really close to New York." I was shocked when I saw a mileage marker indicating we were still 60 miles away! We wisely opted to bypass New York city by passing north over the George Washington bridge into New Jersey. The journey down the New Jersey turnpike was uneventful. I was headed for the Jersey shore, and Bob was returning to Chevy Chase, MD so we parted company at a turnpike exit. About hour later, a little before noon, I parked the bike in Surf City, NJ. Bob had to travel another two hours to reach home. His ride was 28 hours as opposed to my mere 26. When I returned home my first stop was to thank Ed, the friend who had shipped the cylinder head to Nova Scotia. I bought a new cylinder head -- which cost about third of what I paid for the bike and Ed helped me install it. The Canada trip had been quite adventure and I learned quite a bit about riding, relaxing, and finding good things in seemingly adverse situations. It also gave me a life long respect for the efficient design of the /2 Beemers and the confidence that no matter what, my R60/2 would get home. A bit too much confidence perhaps. Next chapter: [ The Big Snow / Epilogue ] [ Title Page] |
