This is Jay headed home on the go-ahead, just north of Greenbank on 28.

Anyone else see jets?  We were on the way to Paint Bank on Saturday, somewhere in the vicinity of Gap Mills on Route 3, when what looked to be an FA-18 came roaring overhead so low that I could see numbers on the fuselage.

Click the 720p option and enjoy.


http://youtu.be/QK6GfOJw7Cg

Sorry for the delay.

First the good stuff... EXCELLENT venue. I loved - LOVED - Hawk's Nest. The price was great, the on-site food was a plus, and even given the no-alcohol rules, the parking lot partying was fantastic. Beer cooler FTW! Beth, this was an EXCELLENT choice, and I hope to attend more events there in the future. Thank you so, so much for putting all this together. Pies & Pints' food was absolutely fantastic. The service was a little slow, but hey... it was a Saturday night and the place was packed. I was saying on the way over there that it was *just* far enough away after a full day of riding that it had better be exceptional... It was, and was worth every mile spent getting there.

Great seeing everyone again, catching up, and putting even more faces to names. I love my ST.O/N family. 

I know some snickers happened about my trailer being there... Keith (and Angel) weren't able to leave to come down until Friday, late in the day. Keith asked to use my trailer so he could blast on down the road Friday night and arrive in time for the evening festivities. Well.... they didn't get out of town until about 9pm Friday night, and drove overnight only to be slammed with even more torrential rain and pea-soup fog. They pulled over to nap a few hours hoping the fog would lift and it got only worse and worse. Saturday morning I got up to go get some coffee and tea, and figured I'd head outside and unload the trailer while Keith and Angel were surely sleeping, assuming they had rolled in at the expected 2-3am or so. HAH! They were there in the parking lot and Keith was unloading bikes... they had *just* arrived at 8am. 

As Ken was there without a bike, I asked Keith to bring both his bikes down... He was bringing his FJR already, and I asked him to include his CBR600RR. Ken rode Liz's 919 most of the day on Saturday, and Liz rode Keith's CBR/RR. Later in the day, on the way back from the day ride, Ken & Liz swapped bikes and Liz was happy for the orthopedic relief. Ken was... tolerant... of the CBR's ergos, but was happy we were on the way back to the lodge.

As for Virginia... Sheesh, back in 2011 I got a ticket on Keith's FJR during the Pace Podcast group ride to Barber. I had completely and legitimately forgotten about it and with moving twice and all the divorce drama, I never gave it another thought.  Well, a few weeks ago, my insurance company called me up and was all like, "hey, thanks for your money, but we're dropping you at the end of April. You have a suspended license." I went over to the Delaware DMV that day and tried to get it resolved. Turns out I had this unpaid ticket in VA (forehead slapper!) and VA and DE now swap info. I paid the ticket, took the receipt over to the DMV, got my license reinstated, all is good, right? Awesome.

For this trip I arranged to be riding a cruiser, rather than our 2-upping on Liz's 919 (thank goodness). My knees were on fire riding her bike around locally - Did I mention I can't wait to get them fixed? Anyway, we're sitting in traffic in some podunk little town in Virginia. We're waiting for a guy to make a left turn so we can make the left turn a block later and get gas. We're waiting... and waiting... and waiting... I went around the guy. Liz and Dan (Royal Tiger) followed me. We turned at the next block, pulled into the gas station, and I started fueling my bike. I noticed that Dan was having a talk with the town cop. Hmmm... He walked up, asked if we were all together, then told us all to finish fueling up and converge out of the way to talk. He didn't want to repeat himself. "I don't know how they do it in Pennsylvania and Delaware, but around here, we don't go around cars at a light. That's how accidents happen." I was properly contrite and respectful, and made my due apologies. He took our licenses, and told us two or three times that he wasn't going to write anyone for it, assuming our books came back clean.

Well, whattya know... Virginia thinks that my license - to be clear, my "Driving privileges in the state of Virginia" - is still suspended. 

What no one ever told me at the court house when I paid my ticket was that there was a separate reinstatement fee that I had to pay to the DMV. It's $25 in Delaware and PA. Just to give you the scale of Dan's comments about Virginia being a money grubbing whore of a police state... the cop told me it was "no more than $60". Fine... fine, whatever... I'll hit the DMV there in the morning and take care of it. So much for my $300 budget for this trip. 

Anyway, the cop wouldn't let me ride out of there, so I sent Dan & Felicia (on Dan's BMW) and Liz (on her 919) up the road, presumably to Winchester where I'd planned on overnighting, then hitting the DMV in the morning. The plan was for them to drop Liz's bike and Felicia, Liz and Dan ride back on Dan's BMW, Liz to ride my bike and I'd ride bitch with Dan. I expected they'd be gone an hour or so as Winchester was 10 miles up the road from... Barryville? Where ever the hell we were. So, I'm getting all set to sit there with some gatorade and snacks, this white Hyundai pulls in and parks next to my bike. Dude stays in the car and was working very, very hard at not watching me. Ahhhh... the local cop called one of his off duty buddies to come watch and alert him if I ride off so he could haul me to jail (that was the threat pending if I even started the bike). Then I realized my bike was actually parked in a reserved spot. I moved it to an open spot - by pushing it, found a milk crate behind the gas station and got comfy for my hour-plus wait, and staring at the cop-not-watching-me waiting for him to acknowledge that he knew that I knew the deal. Prick.

About 10 minutes later Dan & Liz roll in. They dropped Liz's bike and Felicia off at a 7-11 a few miles up the road, out of Barryville's town limits, and came back to get me and my bike. Liz hopped on the Magna, I climbed aboard the pillion on Dan's BMW and we got on the road. Holy sweet hell... I haven't been on the back of a bike in decades. I was scared like a school girl in the back of a white van after prom just as the chloroform was wearing off.  But Dan was very gentle and caring, and we both got through the ride without harm. There is apparently picture proof of my being bitch to Dan... I'm sure someone will post it at some point.

So, we continued on our way to Staunton, and had I been actually operating a motorcycle, I would have done so at the speed limit, following every single law and rule to the letter. In the morning we got up and got me over to the DMV where I went to pay the reinstatement fee. You know, the one the cop told me was $60...? To further highlight Dan's commentary on the money grubbing whore that is the state of Virginia... it's not $60. It's $150. Actually, it's $145 plus a $5 "multiple operation fee", which the woman at the VA DMV explained was because they had to research my ticket and verify it was paid, THEN process my reinstatement. So... hours wasted at the DMV on Friday morning, most of my budgeted trip money gone, and fuck Virginia.

Anyway, the weekend was still awesome, fuck Virginia, and we had a blast.

Sadly, we had to leave early on Sunday, even before catching up with anyone for breakfast. Liz had a singing gig on Sunday and she needed to be there for rehearsal at 4pm. We got up early Sunday morning, hit the road, and blasted interstates all the way home. Rolled in at about 4:20 (her to her gig, me to home, 5 minutes from her gig). Didn't enter Virginia at all, 'cause fuck Virginia.

  <--- without the smile.

Well I guess that SUCKED