Marcus Dairy, Part III  (The soggy one!)

They call me the eternal optimist, but even I should have known something was up from the start...

I got up and did the old "seat of the pants" weather report. For those not familiar, I go out on the porch. If I'm not soaked when I come in, it's riding weather. Of course, I'm no meteorologist but this 'test' has been working out pretty well all summer so why not today? The other point of view is that my luck is about to run out...

The night before I had completed the "spur-of-the-moment" fuel pump relocation project and I was dying to find out how it came out. In other words, does the bike still run... I'm happy to report that it does. After 8 days in the garage, and with no run time at all it started without a hitch and is virtually noise free. What the hell is wrong with this thing...

The first leg:

It was a little foggy on the way to Sturbridge. Nothing unusual for this time of the year. Actually, this is the warmest that it has been in the last two weeks! Despite the threat of showers late this afternoon, so far it looks good for Marcus III. I left a little early, which is OK because the turnout is likely to be enourmous. Marcus Dairy's Super Sunday is billed as the Northeasts largest single day motorcycle event. This coupled with the fact that the season is just about over, and getting there a little early seemed like a good idea. I also figured that if I got a head start I wouldn't have to compete with the local cagers for road space, and at 6:30 in the morning the Sunday cager crowd is still pretty much trying to figure out how the coffee maker works. So it's just me and the occasional radar-equipped cruiser, out there keeping what little traffic there is in check.

It's funny the things that you can ponder when there isn't a radio present to cloud your thoughts. Like who's 2 door BMW, Lincoln MK-VIII and Z-28's are these parked at 'Centerfolds III' (a local strip joint) at 7:00 on a Sunday morning? Maybe there's nothing to this rumor that the strippers...er...'Exotic Dancers' dont occasionally go home with the patron's...

Even a sure thing... isn't...

"I'm sure it's right around here somewhere..." I thought to myself. I mean, I've been to this McDonald's 4 or 5 times in the last year and although my memory isn't what it used to be...

The beep of a motorcycle horn is rather odd at this time in the morning so I was sure that it was meant for me. It was. There sat Steve (Dragon) in the middle of an empty parking lot, looking about as out of place as a hooker in church. Maybe he can't find the ol' meeting place either. I turned around in a "No U-Turn" area (like all good bikers do...) and pulled in. Sure enough, there it was. Our old meeting place, or at least what was left of it. A giant hole in the ground. Seems that McDonalds is going through a corporate makeover and this location was the latest 're-do'. I should have known right then and there that this was a sign of things to come. Before long Keith (Black Magic) pulled in, and once we dispensed with the "I wonder why they tore down a McDonalds..." theories, we decided that it was time to go to Burger King and wait for the rest of the gang. For those of you not familiar with Burger King's 'location hunting' policy, they wait for McDonalds to do the research, then they just buy the closest piece of real estate available, and build. Anyhow, over breakfast Keith showed us his latest creation (see pic), Ray St.Pierre & son arrived and the bike talk was fast and furious. At 8:15 we determined that everyone who was coming, was here. It was time to get this show on the road. A small contingent to be sure, but Keith, Steve, The St.Pierre's and I were off and runnin'.

...And here with today's weather...

"This is what I love about riding..." I thought to myself. Dont get me wrong, I love riding any time, but there's something about group rides that just turns me on. Maybe it's the idea that all these folks in cars are looking at us, saying to themselves "Man, I wish I was that guy...". Riding down the highway, staggered formation, having as much fun as 5 guys can have, well... on the highway at least. Funny how quickly things change.

"Please, let this be sand from the car ahead..." I thought to myself as I began to feel the first hint of what was ahead. Of course it was not sand, it was water. A light shower at 80mph can feel a lot like running face-first into a nest of angry bee's! About 3 or 4 miles later, our group leader Keith thoughtfully stopped at a rest area and asked if we wanted to forge ahead. Me being forever the optimist said "Of course...". Well, we aparently had a whole group of optimist's, 'cause we didn't lose anyone to the rain, and again, off we went. And down it came, first in showers, then in steady, soaking rain. Suddenly I realized that all those people in the cars that were supposedly envying our situation were probably laughing at us.

I came prepared; for sunshine of course. No rain gear, no waterproof anything. In fact the only person to bring a rainsuit was Steve. When we stopped under an overpass to take a break, he donned the jacket. (of course the hi-tech rider of the group, Keith, had his bionic, kevlar lined, cool-max, breathable 'thinsulate' attire on, so he was all set from the get-go...) I think Steve was just being thoughtful to our plight and refused to put the pants on. Actually, he offered them to me, but many a rainsuit has succumed to the wrath of the Sampsons, so I passed, primarily in the interest of keeping Steve on my good side. After a brief rest, off we went, the St. Pierre's and I roughing it (like real bikers...) and Steve and Keith dressed more appropriately. You know, I couldn't help but laugh out loud... we stopped long enough to dry out a little, only to be totally soaked again within a quarter mile. The only thing that could have added to the irony would have been if we dried our bikes as well...

At least the venders were there...

No sooner did we get to the bottom of the offramp when we were greeted by a local law enforcement officer, blue lights flashing. It was refreshing to have them there to assist us rather than arrest us (although if they knew about our average speed on the way down, things could have been different...). I thought "Wow, they have traffic control. This must be something..." It was something alright.

By all appearances, we were a day late. It almost looked as if they were within a couple of minutes of tearing the whole thing down. There were maybe a dozen bikes around. Keeping some perspective here, it was pouring out. I'm sure the turnout would have been something had this been an umbrella convention, but alas it was not. Only snow would have lessened the number in attendance. Well, we came all this way, lets check it out...

There were the usual venders, you know, leathers as far as the eye can see, some bike display's, eyewear galore, some accessory displays (most of which you wouldn't attach to your bike on a bet...) and the obligatory BBQ pit. We looked around a little and, although there was no crowd to contend with, standing in the rain to look at stuff that you see all the time gets old, fast. At least the line at the port-a-potties was manageable. Well I had a job to do. I was sent here to get a hat for my friend Paul Pierce in Atwater, CA. and I wasn't leaving without it. A man has to have his priorities, however. "Let's eat..." I said, and into the diner we went.

Surprising as it may seem, we were seated right away. The total lack of a crowd may have had something to do with it. The waitress was also very pleasant. The same rule probably applies here as well. Keith, Steve and I had a relaxing lunch and attempted to dry off, at least a little. The St.Pierre's apparently couldn't get enough of the outdoor festivities, and were absent during lunch. Once finished, it was time to collect our hat, and head north.

"We dont have hat's.." I was informed at the counter. "Whaddaya mean you dont have hat's." I exclaimed. "You mean you don't have hat's inside?" "Surely you must sell them outside at a booth or something..." There has to be a mistake. We rode all the way down here in the rain to get Paul Pierce a hat. There has to be an explanation. There was: "We dont have hat's.." the guy said again, as if I didn't hear him the first time. Great! "Should we get him a T-Shirt?" I asked Keith. "Yea, get him a T-Shirt. I'll split it with you.." Well, tempted as I was to take his money and keep my mouth shut, I knew that it would get out that Parrothead had already paid for the hat, and for a lousy ten bucks Keith would never invite me on a ride again. That I couldn't live with. So Paul got a T-Shirt, I bought a rain suit (..best $25.00 I ever spent..) and we proceded to get soaked again. I wont bore you with the details, but suffice it to say, I was never so glad to get off my bike.

So all's well in the Northeast. Paul got his hat, I got a cold, I know at least four others that got soaked to say the least, and Super Sunday is now officially... a memory.

Hey, there's always Marcus IV...

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