Finally got some honest to goodness on the road time on the bike this weekend. Was heading up to Westfield to visit with my uncle Ted and aunt Charlene; Ted is in the final throes of cancer, and Ted & Charlene were much like a second set of parents to me for most of my childhood and teen years. Great, wonderful people with big hearts, great minds, and more love than anyone has a right to ask.
I left home at about 6:30am Saturday, took a wandering, meandering route up through the Lancaster area, and found 120, 44, 287, 249, 49, 349, and arrived in Westfield at about 1:30 or so, after two stops - one for breakfast, one for gas. It's nice having a humungous gas tank and good MPG. Visited, did some chores, had dinner, caught up, talked and talked and talked, laughed and cried. Ted had degraded a bit from my last visit, two weeks ago. He's not long for this world, and I still Fucking Hate Cancer (r) (tm) (c).
Woke up and had morning tea, made a plan for another visit soon, and what I could take up for them - including a small window air conditioner. There's nothing these people could ask of me that I wouldn't give or do, and they're not the type to ask; I have to pry out of them what they need.
Got on the road around 8am, and headed out 349 to 6 and on to Galeton (where I used to live), fueled up and had breakfast in town, gathering my thoughts.
Quick note on the ride as I posted elsewhere....
You know how your eye is drawn to a particular part of a tableau and your mind might take a moment to assemble all the pieces of what you're seeing?
As I was riding down rt 349 leaving Westfield yesterday morning, a man was leaning on a guard rail, casually holding a rifle with its butt on his hip, barrel pointing up. We've all seen that pose in a every police or war movie ever. Kind of casually standing there looking right at me.
My eyes went wide and I started figuring how quickly I could hunch down and throttle up to run, aim for him and take the crash, or get my 9mm out of the tank bag one handed.
And then...
The rest of the scene came into "focus" in my mind.
He was actually a state police officer standing there, likely waiting for game officer or something, his truck was about 30 or 40 yards further up the road and a deer was lying off the road in a field. Likely scenario, a hunter tagged it but didn't kill it, or it was hit by a car and horribly injured and needed to be put down.
Note to self: always look for the rest of the picture. And don't kamikaze a cop on your motorcycle. I feel like these are good life rules.
After breakfast I headed down 144 (which is in lovely shape and made for an amazing ride), pretty much all the way to I-80. I then made the choice to head East to Danville rather than West to Clearfield and on to Denny's. Instead, I went to Danville and had lunch at the Old Forge Brewing Company where I enjoyed a short pour of their Overbite IPA and a quesadilla, and got a growler of their Eleven black ale to bring home for Liz.
After that I took a meandering route East and South, eventually finding 125 up over the hills and all the down, eventually finding 895, over further East, and getting home around 6 or so, I think. I paid almost no attention to the clock the whole weekend, made very few stops, took very few pictures, but goodness, did I enjoy so much riding and head clearing. It's been far too long since I had some non-commute riding time. I think I ended the weekend close on to 800 miles.
Some overlook on 144
visitors can't see pics , please
register or
loginThe view from my uncle's front step in Westfield
visitors can't see pics , please
register or
loginBecause 144
visitors can't see pics , please
register or
loginThis sign always makes me laugh
visitors can't see pics , please
register or
loginPano from the overlook
visitors can't see pics , please
register or
login
