fleabag

stray dog moves into shop

Dad Pinstriping by Heidi Luck

1983 Honda Interceptor factory superbike

Better Riding Through Chemistry

There is not a lot of things I enjoy more than blasting up a mountain road on my bike. Here is a story of a road and a mountain.

I was checking out some vintage sports car pictures on the internet and came across a 1957 Porsche at the Mount Equinox Hill climbs. I remember seeing a sign for that somewhere in Vermont. A couple searches later I found the address and hours of the Mount Equinox Skyline Drive.

The toll road is 5.2 miles long and climbs to the summit with an elevation of 3848 feet. The road was built by a hardnosed chemist named Joseph George Davidson, PhD. He worked for Union Carbide on such projects as the atom bomb, ethyl additives for gasoline, developed laminated safety glass and Bakelite plastics. He owned the entire mountain and when he died, he transferred ownership of the 11 square miles to the Carthusian Order of catholic monks. They live in silence up on the mountain.

Started North on a Friday morning , along with Dirty Diana or her Yamaha Star and Alli-Poo riding a 70's vintage Honda CB750. It was finally a warm and sunny day, the Friday before Memorial Day. We travelled back roads into the foothills of the Berkshire Mountains. Rough riding on a shortcut over the hill into Washington, Massachusetts caused the old Harley to gasp and sputter to a halt. After and hour of fiddling with the carburetor, Al found the spark plug wires had came loose of the coil. A free fix and back on the road.

Got on Route 7 in Pittsfield and followed that past Mount Greylock and into the Green Mountain state. Manchester was about 30 miles past Bennington and we pulled into the gift shop parking lot.

You have to buy a token for $10 to get you past the toll gate. We all dropped our coins and started up the hill.

The road was a bit bumpy, but there were real hairpin turns, just like in Switzerland.

I soon was way ahead of Al and Diana, jamming through the sharp turns. There were a couple scenic overlooks and parking pull offs on the way up.

I reached the summit and waited for the other two.

Not much to look at at the top. There is a run down lodge type building that is under renovation. The aggressive black flies attacked so we rolled down to the first overlook and enjoyed a panoramic view of the Vermont valley. Downhill was almost as much fun, the engine doing most of the braking. The whole run we only saw two cars, one of them an Aston Martin that had left and the other loaded with mountain bikes and parked.

At the toll gate again and I had a plan, do it again. Why not? There is no time limit. Now that we know there are no tourists, cops, speed limits or cell phone talking minivan drivers to ruin our day. This run would be serious. Helmet and leathers put on. I wished the other two good luck, there was no way they would keep up.

Full blast up the hill again. Euphoria! No worries about arrest or left turners. The hairpin turns had small signs announcing them. I was glad, a couple are actually hard to see. There are no paint stripes on the roadway. Down to first gear, feather the clutch, full turn steering, bang it up to fourth gear.

The Harley was getting fully abused as I climbed higher and higher. There was a long straight section, but the bike wouldn't break 90 mph. Damn Milwaukee tractor. Reached the summit adrenaline pumping. Pulled a U turn in the gravel lot and dove downhill.

Almost crashed into Diana on the way down, she was over the center. Stopped at a turnoff for some pics and we all met back at the gate.

Think about it. This place is not well promoted, not a lot of people will spend $10 to drive up a hill. It is a private, alpine racetrack for us motorcyclists. No cops, no rangers, no supervision, no rules. It is our New England Stelvio Pass.

I suggest you get there and enjoy it before somebody figures out how to screw it up and ruin it.

We rode into downtown Manchester and ate some burritos at the heroin junkie Mexican joint. Those lovable hippies with their bruises and scabs.

Took Route 30 East for a traffic free blast to Brattleboro, then I-91 back to Mudville in time for Happy Hour at the club.

Perfect day of riding courtesy of a bad ass chemist whom I will never know.

El Dog

ice cream social

stopped at a bike night at an ice cream joint. there was one cool bike

Been waitin' for the bus all day

Chief

Seen down by the riverside this morning

burgers

in Stu's shop today

Belgium's Best Bicyclist Wilfried David

Lost on the Harleys in the Belgian countryside after a night of whorehouses in Oostende, we stumbled up on a pub.
Not knowing a word of Flemish we made friends with the bicycle racers in the bar.
The owner and his wife were two of the nicest people we met on our first European tour. His name is Wilfried David.

Pappy's Run this weekend

Pappy was a guy who, with the help of his friends, defeated Connecticut's helmet law. There is a run every memorial Day weekend in the New London area for him. This is from a 1985 Biker Lifestyle Magazine. The Reverend in the photos is Rev. Kaiser, a biker from Mudville who also fought for biker rights and got the motorcycle handicapped plate into law. I moved into his old apartment in 1990 and had to haul off his abandoned 67 Caddy Hearse.
Photos by Bob Touchette.

All time hottest red head rolling a Moto Guzzi

Ann-Margret ain't scared.

cadillac weekend

chet put seatbelts in my car so now i can take my kid with me.

weekend