GOE XI Day Three: A Day to be Remembered
Monday, June 18, 2007
So technically the rally hasn't started, as the first day is tomorrow. Usually several people come to the host city before the rally, so I thought I would come up with ride. The temporary site for the Flight 93 crash was within 200 miles, so I thought I would go for it.
I really didn't think too many people would be around, or in for a 400 mile day in what might become the hot June sun. Well, we had 9 bikes and ten people lined up, besides my brother and I, all were from the Heart of Virginia Chapter.
We started north on I-77, then east on US 50. It started out a softly curving two lane road, but once we passed through Bridgeton, West Virginia, which was harder than it need to be, thanks to some bicyclist going from Oceanside, California to Atlantic City, New Jersey. I imagines they enjoyed blocking the traffic! Once past that, the road narrowed to two lanes, then got twisty. The smile inside my helmet increased with my concentration on the weaving road.
As we neared Maryland, we got trapped behind a garbage truck! Judging from the odor, it had completed most of its collections.
We had made it nearly 200 miles before our first U-turn, to double back and get to one of the few restaurants located in the city of Berlin, PA. It wasn't the spot I had picked, as it was a small sandwich shop in an old gas station. The place we settled into, our only other option, was a bar/restaurant. Well, it was more like a Saloon. I was expecting to see a place to hang our gun belts.
The group of road worn bikers meandered through the doors. We must have looked like a tough bunch, even though we were laughing the whole way. We settled into a few different tables, and started getting rowdy with other bike stories. A waiter came up and took our orders. I looked around the place, under construction. I wondered if it was voluntary construction? This looked like a place that on a Friday and Saturday night, fists fly as much as the beer does.
After a few minutes, a small, timid man approached our table. He seemed afraid to talk to us. In a quite voice that drew everyone's attention, he started by apologizing. He went on to explain that they only had one fryer and one cook top because of the construction, but he would get our food to us as fast as he could. Suddenly, the southern gentleman came out of the riding clothes. We laughed and said it was no problem, as long as the food was good, and to make it so, he could take all the time he needed.
The food actually came in good time, and didn't disappoint. The stories and rowdiness continued. We paid, leaving pretty good tips, and crossed the parking lot to the bikes.
Another 10 miles, and we would reach the grounds where the plane went down. Everything there was simple, as it was just a temporary memorial. Its odd how sometimes the simplest things can be so moving. There was a fence covered with mementos. A docent emerged from a little shack. When one of the Chapter 30 Members, "Sunshine" Bob found out she was going to give a speech, he announced it for us, but everyone present stopped what they were doing, and sat in the seats. Sunshine's voice, can sometimes beam as loud as the sun can beam down.
I'm not sure the docent had that many eyes on her before. She seemed to give the presentation with some nervousness. I could see her fingers trembling to grab and turn the pages, and her voice cracked. Everyone sat quietly. New people that arrived quickly found a seat.
After spending some reverent moments, we hoped back on the bikes, and began the trip back home. We found some more good twisty roads, lined heavily with trees, as we made our way around the border of Ohiopyle State Park.
To get back faster, we used some interstate, which at first was wet from a storm that must have passed through before we did! We got a few sprinkles, but that was it.
As we got closer to Bridgeton again, traffic slowed, and then stopped. Using the GPS, we tried to find a route around the problem, but so did everyone else. We ended up in the parking lot of shirt printing company, waiting some of the traffic out. The man at the store was more than generous, offering us bottled water! A steady stream of cars passed. It was like waiting on a train, as they seemed almost connected, dragging each other along.
We gassed up after a slow ride through town, and got on the ponies to get home. This was the first part of the trip where I was feeling the heat! It was after five in the afternoon, the road had plenty of time to cook. We returned mostly on US 50 until the I-77.
We had left about five after seven in the morning, and we were returning at about five after seven in the evening. As I pulled into the hotel parking lot, I could tell that more Cruiser Club brother and sisters had arrived. Bikes scattered all around the hotel parking lot, including my father's.
So technically the rally hasn't started, as the first day is tomorrow. Usually several people come to the host city before the rally, so I thought I would come up with ride. The temporary site for the Flight 93 crash was within 200 miles, so I thought I would go for it.
I really didn't think too many people would be around, or in for a 400 mile day in what might become the hot June sun. Well, we had 9 bikes and ten people lined up, besides my brother and I, all were from the Heart of Virginia Chapter.
We started north on I-77, then east on US 50. It started out a softly curving two lane road, but once we passed through Bridgeton, West Virginia, which was harder than it need to be, thanks to some bicyclist going from Oceanside, California to Atlantic City, New Jersey. I imagines they enjoyed blocking the traffic! Once past that, the road narrowed to two lanes, then got twisty. The smile inside my helmet increased with my concentration on the weaving road.
As we neared Maryland, we got trapped behind a garbage truck! Judging from the odor, it had completed most of its collections.
We had made it nearly 200 miles before our first U-turn, to double back and get to one of the few restaurants located in the city of Berlin, PA. It wasn't the spot I had picked, as it was a small sandwich shop in an old gas station. The place we settled into, our only other option, was a bar/restaurant. Well, it was more like a Saloon. I was expecting to see a place to hang our gun belts.
The group of road worn bikers meandered through the doors. We must have looked like a tough bunch, even though we were laughing the whole way. We settled into a few different tables, and started getting rowdy with other bike stories. A waiter came up and took our orders. I looked around the place, under construction. I wondered if it was voluntary construction? This looked like a place that on a Friday and Saturday night, fists fly as much as the beer does.
After a few minutes, a small, timid man approached our table. He seemed afraid to talk to us. In a quite voice that drew everyone's attention, he started by apologizing. He went on to explain that they only had one fryer and one cook top because of the construction, but he would get our food to us as fast as he could. Suddenly, the southern gentleman came out of the riding clothes. We laughed and said it was no problem, as long as the food was good, and to make it so, he could take all the time he needed.
The food actually came in good time, and didn't disappoint. The stories and rowdiness continued. We paid, leaving pretty good tips, and crossed the parking lot to the bikes.
Another 10 miles, and we would reach the grounds where the plane went down. Everything there was simple, as it was just a temporary memorial. Its odd how sometimes the simplest things can be so moving. There was a fence covered with mementos. A docent emerged from a little shack. When one of the Chapter 30 Members, "Sunshine" Bob found out she was going to give a speech, he announced it for us, but everyone present stopped what they were doing, and sat in the seats. Sunshine's voice, can sometimes beam as loud as the sun can beam down.
I'm not sure the docent had that many eyes on her before. She seemed to give the presentation with some nervousness. I could see her fingers trembling to grab and turn the pages, and her voice cracked. Everyone sat quietly. New people that arrived quickly found a seat.
After spending some reverent moments, we hoped back on the bikes, and began the trip back home. We found some more good twisty roads, lined heavily with trees, as we made our way around the border of Ohiopyle State Park.
To get back faster, we used some interstate, which at first was wet from a storm that must have passed through before we did! We got a few sprinkles, but that was it.
As we got closer to Bridgeton again, traffic slowed, and then stopped. Using the GPS, we tried to find a route around the problem, but so did everyone else. We ended up in the parking lot of shirt printing company, waiting some of the traffic out. The man at the store was more than generous, offering us bottled water! A steady stream of cars passed. It was like waiting on a train, as they seemed almost connected, dragging each other along.
We gassed up after a slow ride through town, and got on the ponies to get home. This was the first part of the trip where I was feeling the heat! It was after five in the afternoon, the road had plenty of time to cook. We returned mostly on US 50 until the I-77.
We had left about five after seven in the morning, and we were returning at about five after seven in the evening. As I pulled into the hotel parking lot, I could tell that more Cruiser Club brother and sisters had arrived. Bikes scattered all around the hotel parking lot, including my father's.
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