Don Fearn (Pooder's) N.A.R.T. Ride Report

As copied from rec.motorcycles:

>Cow orker: "You're riding over 250 miles to sign some dumb T-shirts?"
>
>Me: "Yeah, pretty stupid, isn't it?"
>
>pooder was here anticipating a GOOD ride

And so it was. But a bit more than 250 miles; my odometer says 647.4 miles for the ride up there and back. I did take a bit of the scenic route on the way up, though.

I got up at the crack of Don (I usually crack at about 6 ;^) and by the time everything was ready to go, it was closer to 7. There was FROST on the car windshields and roofs this morning! In SE Minnesota on August 21st!! I guess that's one of the effects of the Global Warming. Thank Geeky for heated grips and my Gerbing's jacket.

The ride up was pretty uneventful, save for some THICK fog that necessitated my pulling over and removing my sunglasses that had fogged over completely. Even with them gone, I could have used a white cane to help feel for the edge of the road. Fortunately, soon after I crossed over into Wisconsin, it was gone.

My riding was in a groove today and by a little after one o'clock, without much thought and very little effort, I was there without even getting lost -- the specifications for how to get to the rendezvous place were written by an engineer, after all.

Mark has Spidey Sense. He heard my (almost silent) BMW in enough time for him to be out along the road to take pictures of my entrance. He directed me to the little biker's room and then found a Diet Pepsi hidden among hundreds, maybe more, of bottles of beer he had laid in for the four of us and we settled back and waited for the rest.

"There's another bike!" Yeah, Mark and his Spidey Sense again, 'cause I didn't hear it until several seconds later. He ran out and shot the next arrival, who turned out to be from Manitoba. Right, it was Bob Mann, arriving on his CLEAN, BLUE, NEW 2004 Harley.

Hands were shaken all around and soon came another bike that even I heard right away. Another round of shooting by Mark, and this time we figured out that it was Don Binns, Mr NART himself, and we didn't even have to see the Calgary plates to make that leap of logic. He was on his well-preserved classic Virago 1000. (What year was that again, Mr Binns?)

Another round of handshakes got exchanged and we were ready to go for The Signing.

Mark lead on his 2001 SV650S, of course, 'cause he knows the lay of the land around those parts. I rode sweep on my 2001 R1100S and after some riding through beautiful backroads, we arrived at a local (local to Walker, MN) Mexican cafe. We decided we should do The Signing first, lest we stain the shirts with food, and Don asked the waitress to come back in a few minutes so we could "take care of this paperwork". She looked a little puzzled, but shrugged and left us to our task.

Yes, we DID remember to put the plastic bags behind the place where the shirts were signed. Without ANY women to remind us!

That's all there is to tell, I guess. Anything besides The Signing is pretty secondary. Food was eaten (GOOD food too. If you're ever in Walker MN and want some of the best Mexican food I've ever had, ask for the Mexican restaurant in the middle of town just off the main drag.), lies were swapped, and that was that.

I had decided earlier that I needed to ride straight home, and Don wanted to get an early start back to Calgary on account of the bad weather that's moving in, so we left Mark and Bob there to do in as much of that beer as they could overnight. They may wind up with the worst hangovers anyone has ever had . . . .

My ride home was equally uneventful, if a little shorter than the ride up, so I could be as close to home at dusk as I could manage. Oh yeah, I *did* see a pair of bambis go bouncing across the road as I was leaving the Walker area, but they were a quarter mile or so up the road. They're OUT there, folks; keep watching out for 'em!

So, now I have a couple more faces to associate with the names 'round here. I did notice that everyone I met today was older than I expected. Maybe that means that I'm not a good estimator of ages, or maybe no one around here ever acts their age. Whatever.

pooder is here with a report. That is all. Good night.
--
"Ladies and gentlemen take my advice.
Pull down your pants and slide on the ice."

-- Sidney Freedman