Wanderlust
So it was time to satiate my wanderlust. Reliable motorcycle, Check, Tank bag? Check. Where we going? I decided on Brattleboro, Vermont based on recommendations of my dad who is much more traveled than I am. I booked my hotel for tomorrow night, packed up and wernt to bed. I headed out early on friday morning. The weather was iffy, but the forecast said the rain should hold off. I headed out and hit the highway, 128 north to 2 west. Boomeranging from Mass into to eastern New York and back west to Brattleboro, a good days ride. Once the highway turns into a B road out by Erving it’s backroads all the way to Brattleboro.
My stint on 128 was largely spent lanesplitting, passing a friend who snapped a pic of my orange and yellow helmet gliding past stopped cars. After spending too long on the highway I turned onto 2 which is a B road for a bit, turns into a divided highway, than back to a B road. After it turns back into a B road it turns into the americana highway of Mass. It’s called the Mohawk trail, and the aging roadside attractions attest to this. Fiberglass teepees, 20 foot tall Indians mark the so called Indian trading posts that popped up in the 50’s when America headed out in cars to travel interstate. I had time on my side and stopped at one to snap a picture of my bike with the Teepee. This is when I ran into Todd. Todd was just hanging out at the trading post. We talked for a bit about motorcycles, northern mass and my final destination of Brattleboro. He used to party there in the 80’s and was a genuinely engaging person. We parted ways and I headed back out.
About three quarters of the way down route 2 the roads started getting wet. I could see the clouds far ahead and they looked angry, but the road was just damp, no standing water and I was still in the sun. everything was good and I kept on. I stopped once again at the hairpin just outside North Adams and got a beautiful shot of the clouds over the Taconic mountains.
North Adams is an old mill town and it shows. Coming in on route 2 coming out of the Berkshires you immediately pass 2 old mills on either side that have been repurposed but still look run down. After Adams you pass the small college town of Williamstown. Getting slightly lost here I found my way back onto 2 and onto the Taconic parkway, which links Mass route 2 to New York 22. It’s a gorgeous ride even though the pavement sucks, winding your way through the mountain. At this point the pavement had become dry again, I assumed the rain must have gone somewhere else, always a nice thing and continued on my way. I stopped again at a small pond and took a break, having a quick lunch.
Back on the road again I entered Vermont and than quickly caught up with the rain, once again the roads were wet but not soaked, I was still good and dry. I continued into unexplored territory, following route 9 to my final destination. But by this time I was catching up to the rain. The cars coming towards me were wet, I was getting the occasional sprinkle on me but I was still mostly dry, except for a stripe up my back that was wet with the spray from the rear tire. I came around a corner and was greeted with a beautiful overlook. I had arrived at Hogsback mountain. I pulled over and devoured the view from the mountain. I went into the general store and got something to drink, and returned outside where a kid was looking at my bike. We started talking as the clouds started coming in from the west. To the east were beautiful clear blue sky, to the right the sky was black as brand new tire. He was on a mountain biking trip with his family, but was interested in motorcycles. I extolled the virtues of being able to be fat and also enjoy being on two wheels, and encouraged him to start riding as soon as he could, and to not wait as I had. And than it started driziling. He said “well, you better be going” and wished me well. As I threw my leg over the 919 the rain started coming down.
Taken on top of Hogsback mountain. Clearish skies to the east, and the incoming thunderstorm to the west
By the time I managed to get back on the road it was coming down in sheets, with thunder and lightning crashing down around me. Here I was, navigating unfamiliar roads going down a mountain in an electrical storm. I was completely unprepared for it, I didn’t even own rain gear yet, within seconds I was soaked to the bone. My directions are now obscured by the rain cover on the tank bag, I was just trekking along completely guessing at where I should be going. I passed the kid and his family as I made my way down the mountain, they had pulled over, my machismo said I was stronger than his family and they were just wimps. I’m sure I was just being stupid. I somehow made my way off the mountain and into a gas station where I filled up the tank and the rain passed. “I’m good now, I won’t catch up with the rain” two minutes later I was once again in the monsoon. Another bit of miserable riding and I found another gas station awning to hide under and look at my phone. I was 10 minutes from my hotel, and once again the storm had moved on without me. I waited a little bit and made it to my hotel. After checking in, and dripping all over the lobby I asked if they had a laundry I could throw my soaked jeans in so they could dry, the only pair I had brought I was wearing. “No, but there’s a laundromat right down the road” I was sure they wouldn’t appreciate me just hanging around in just my boxers, so I did what any reasonable person would do.
I dropped my stuff off in my hotel room and headed to the closest Wal-Mart. I rode rt 9 into Keene, NH, a 25 minute ride I spent shivering as the sun had now gone down and I was wearing soaking wet clothes. I bought a pair of jeans on clearance and a pair of cheap sneakers as my riding shoes were likewise soaking wet. I shivered my way back to the hotel, and threw my clothes off and took an extra long extra hot shower. After that I walked to the nearby Wendy’s and had dinner. I retreated back to my hotel room for the night and fell asleep quickly with some heartburn.
The next day was largely uneventful, I simply rode around the area and headed home a different route, stopping in a suburb of Lowell and spending some time with a close friend I hadn’t seen in awhile. By the time I had arrived at his place my riding shoes had dried out and I pawned off the cheap sneakers on him, I really hate cheap sneakers. The jeans I had for awhile after, always bringing a smile to my face remembering how acquired them. Next time I’d be prepared, next time I’d have raingear, next time I’d be more comfortable riding in the rain.