I was with Norm as he met up with some old co-workers for the first time in months. I have yet to find somebody who doesn't love this guy. We all chat a bit and then hit the road to meet at Rollie's place. Rollie is under the weather but his place is the rally point. After a pleasant meet-up with Frank I got my first chance to meet FJR Harold, barely a glance my way and a semi-audible groan of some kind was his greeting. My first impression, "what a jerk". So Harold, Frank and Norm are busy trying to sync their headsets with technical assistance from Rollie but something is amiss. Norm then imitates a monkey as the riders are all banging their heads motioning towards the headsets. Apparently this is some sort of pre-ride tradition that takes about thirty minutes. I smile, patiently wait and have an extended conversation with Frank about his BMW and favorite roads. Frank is very easy to talk to and engaging... not like that Harold.
Finally we are off. The group consensus is that Harold takes the lead. The marching order is Harold on his FJR, Frank and his BMW, me and the beloved Nighthawk and watching my back is Norm who chose his Connie today. Now all I know about Harold at this point is that Norm has told me that he rides like a maniac and that I think he is a jerk. I have to admit that I'm intimidated. We take off down these windy, narrow and poorly paved roads. I am about at my limit but haven't breached any riding threshold. Still it is a continual rapid pace and is a different stance than I usually take when riding. Quite a few blind curves and I nurse the back brake a bit before rolling through the turn. At one point Norm rolls up next to me at a stop and suggests that I drop gears and take advantage of my engine braking. Because I feel like I'm keeping the pace down I immediately get defensive and say something along the lines of, "I know that" and "I just work the brake because I can't see through some of the blind turns.". Truth is Norm is right I could work the gearbox more but it became a bit of pride issue for me. On the other hand the Nighthawk has a rear drum brake that is very soft, it scrubs off very little speed so that has always served me well.
After rolling around the roads we stop off some resort-ish area by the water with estuaries heading out to sea. We hop off our bikes chat a bit and all of a sudden I'm getting to know Harold a little better. Not so much a jerk, actually really, really funny. He has the kind of humor that is somewhat rude, dripping with sarcasm but perfectly timed. Of course in the discussion of my bike he has the perfect location to store it, a museum. That was it, after that I really liked Harold. He had me laughing the rest of the day with short witty insights and long rambling diatribes about whatever was crossing his mind. So Norm looks over to Harold and says, "Why you taking it easy today?". That's not exactly what Norm said, combine that sentiment with a salty east coast accent and you get the idea. Well I think that is all it took because the rest of the trip the ride didn't slow down.
These guys are good riders, I mean really good. I've seen Norm handle his big Connie at slow speeds with incredible deftness but to see all three of these guys whip those bike around very tight curves at high speeds it was incredible. My first taste was when we hopped onto 128 which is a two lane expressway. Harold and Frank blast off through the opening on the left land and are gone in a shot. I look over my shoulder and there is this big green Jeep racing up closing the passing gap. I had to decide what to do. I drop a gear, squeeze into the lane and twist down hard on the throttle. The Nighthawk can haul pretty good and I revved her all the way to the point I had her shaking at the top of the redline as I rowed through the gears. Because of my slight hesitation Norm had to wait for the Jeep but as soon as he had his opening all I saw was a dark blue missile streak past me, and I thought I was going fast. I have no desire for speeding tickets so I slowed down, I did that more than once yesterday.
Norm and his pals aren't really about flat out speed, what is really fun to watch is how they handle those large bikes through the twisties. From this point on between Rockport and Gloucester I was really pushing myself just past my comfort zone. A few time Norm would get past me to catch up with his pals and ride at their level. Which was fine for me in those moments I would bring my speed down and enjoy the surroundings. I would catch glimpses of their tailights as I would breach turns and hills but for the life of me I would never be able to catch them if they did not want me to. This was a good experience for me. I usually ride alone and while I'm a good rider I think I learned more about my limitations that day. Watching Harold loft the front end of his FJR and just have complete control of his machine was fascinating. Of course they told me had I newer bike or a sport tourer I would be able to keep up with them. While that was nice to say I have more limitations than my bike does. It was fun to find those limitations as I was bombing through the turns I kept saying a phrase to myself that coffee break used in her recent post,
"Look, lean and believe!".
Here are some pics from that day.
Our first stop of the day, Frank, Harold and I posing in front of my rolling museum piece.
The tourist town of Rockport. In a few weeks it will be jammed with people.
Packed like sardines. Harold is off giving some hooligan riders some advice on refinement.
Rockport is aptly named.
Norm and Frank discussing the awesomeness of my Nighthawk. That's what I think they are doing anyway.
"We're going to need a bigger boat." Fishing boat coming into harbor.
Rocks.
Lobster cages next to shack on the edge.
Apparently that red shack is famous. Harold told me why but I forgot. It could be that I was distracted after swallowing a bug after laughing so hard from something else he told me just afterwards.
"I'm a rebel Dotty, a loner." Nothing cooler than parking where you shouldn't.
Singing Beach. Apparently the sands sing as the winds blow across them. Harold tells me that it's true based upon the type of sand grain, the shape of the bay and what type of drugs you are on.
North of the beach.
The hooligans in repose.
My new friend Shoei the Stump. Nice guy but personality is kind of wooden.
