The Lost Weekend
by Linda Carruth

Saturday, September 10, 2005
I'm calling this the lost weekend because both days we went out riding, we got lost. As long as we're in the state of Ohio, we're not really lost, but when the great Keem-O-Sabe, aka my riding partner, says "don't ask me how to get home from here", I call that lost.

I managed a quick breakfast and then went out and cleaned the bugs off my windshield from last Tuesday. Yeesh, what a once-juicy dried up mess. I got myself ready to go and I had to rethink my game plan as to what to take with me. I'd been thinking about how I could roll up or fold up my leather jacket to efficiently use the available space in my saddlebag. I figured I'd start with a center fold, like I fold t-shirts, and fold up the bodice portion in three or four flat sections. Then the flattened sleeves could be rolled up in three flat sections, up to, but not over, the bodice. It ended up looking like a two-part deal, but it was about the width, height, and girth of my saddlebag. I carefully carried it outside, with the bike already out in the driveway, and put the reduced mass leather jacket in an empty saddlebag. It fit almost perfectly and I was able to close the bag without any unsightly bulge AND use the same hole-stops on the straps. I was quite pleased with the result. I took the jean jacket out and left it in the garage. One jacket should be enough, and since I was starting out wearing my leather vest, I wanted to have room to stow it somewhere, should I need to shed it later. I figured that I might get too warm in the heat of the afternoon. The long sleeved t-shirt and packaged rainsuit remained in the other saddlebag. I put my deerskin gauntlet gloves in the sissybar bag. I love having my own storage on my bike so that I don't have to impose my things on Scott and his space. I had asked Scott if my saddlebags were around the size of his on the old Shadow ('86) and he said they were about the same, or his may have been slightly smaller. He said that when he stuffed his leather, or mine for that matter, in a saddlebag, it bulged and he had to use the last hole-stop on the straps. I can't stress enough how happy I was to fit mine in without any compromised closure.

We finished getting ready and warmed up our bikes. Earlier, Scott had checked our tire pressures and no air was needed. We each needed some oil, and added some to both bikes. He'll check later to see if another addition is necessary. As we putted to the end of the driveway, I was lined up directly behind Scott as usual. The guy working next door (new walk and concrete steps going in over there) stopped what he was doing and just stared. He looked at Scott, then at me, and just held his gaze on me and my bike. I mean he stared in awe. Scott pulled out, and then as I pulled out, I could feel his eyes on me, probably all the way down the street. I lifted my butt, by pushing on the front pegs, when I went over the big bump down the street. I flipped on my signal and downshifted before the stop sign. I felt so cool. I turned right, after Scott, as we headed around the block to the gas station. Yeah, this chick rides.

We got our gas and I asked if we were going right. We were. I noticed that I got more stares at the gas station these days. These stares are way different from what I got on the Virago. This bike looks real, and the luggage suggests that I go far from home. The difference in appearance is almost subliminal, but each has its own visual suggestion just the same. I even noticed someone inside seeming to look at me. I guess sometimes they (at the counter) ask Scott where we're headed today. They know.

We turned right onto State and then right again on Brookpark. I don't care where we're going, I'm just tickled to be out on this beautiful clear day. Long sleeves and a vest seems to be necessary today. I can feel the cool, cool air, but can't help but wonder if I can shed the vest. And push up the sleeves. We're in the left lane for a while, and I can sense the driver of the car next to me, staring. We're seeing a lot of couples today, making eye contact with us. I always smile at the passenger. That was me once and I know now how little respect pillions get. They're riders too, as they risk their skins, fully dependent on the abilities and actions of the rider. You're fairly helpless back there, and that takes guts, too. I remember how much I enjoyed the sightseeing. I'd see houses and buildings and signs and yards as we headed for our destination, and then I'd be somehow surprised to see the same things on the way home. We'd had a long ride by then, but those sights seemed so recent. It was an odd feeling, but I absolutely loved it. As wonderful as that was, riding my own bike, once I got the hang of it and was comfortable doing it, and by that I do not mean complacent or over confident in any way shape or form, but comfortable enough to actually get out and DO it, I just can't get over what a kick it is. It's a joy being able to get out and ride my own bike. It still amazes me, since it IS more work and worry, but it's almost a matter of pride. I am in this, I am in the "club" so to speak, because I have my own bike. And most importantly, I RIDE my own bike. Owning it and never riding it doesn't mean diddly, as I painfully found out, and there are plently of people that we've encountered that have bikes, and oh "they ride" but they never ride. PMSS. Parked motorcycle status symbol. Believe me, I'm the first one to tell you that when something happens, something icky, something embarrassing, something painful, it creates a gripping fear, those horrible jitters, that prevent you from riding. It's like a motorcycle inertia that builds an invisible barrier between you wanting to ride and actually getting out the door and onto that motorcycle, and down the road. But once you're actually able to DO it, the world changes. All those landmarks that you saw as a pillion, you see while riding your own bike. I've mentioned the house that has a square American flag painted on it, all faded and worn, as we go through Wadsworth. On the way back through Wadsworth, there's a side street called Takacs that I've seen a jillion times. That's another one. A barn close to the road on Rt 94, with a patchwork of varying green shades behind it. A sign for Longwood Park on Rt 82. And then there are the new ones, observed only on my own bike, like the "beachfront" signs and the sign for Eddie's Grill as we're coming into Geneva On The Lake. I could go on and on. On one night, Mark Johnson on Channel 5 mentioned something about meeting some group for hamburges at Eddie's Grill in Geneva On The Lake, and I said, "hey, we've been there!" And the thing I couldn't get over in the beginning, after all those five mile trips around my neighborhood, was the fact that I got to some of these more distant, or they seemed distant at the time, places like the Visitors Center at Hillside, or Brandywine Falls, on MY OWN BIKE! It just amazed me. Bottom line: I appreciate this and I feel so lucky to be able to be doing this. But I digress.

We turned right onto Canal and continued on. The water is high and it feels a little cooler, but not bad. There's some kind of bike doing going on at Quaker Steak. We weren't invited, so on we went. As we head up the big hill, it definitely feels cooler under the trees, but it feels great. I was getting warm anyway. We turned right on Chaffee, and at the stop sign at 82, we had to wait for a long line of traffic. Scott got off his bike and walked over the the center of Chaffee, at the edge of 82, and picked up long steel rod that was lying there in the midst of the gravel, and threw it over into the weeds. Then he got back on his bike and we still had to wait for some traffic. We finally had a chance to turn and we headed over the 82 bridge. It was a clear day; we could see green tree tops all around and only the farthest treeline to the south, on our left, was a slightly bluer shade of green.

We rolled up to the light at Riverview and crept along until we could turn left on Riverview. We putted down the curvy hill and I was right behind Scott. Same thing on the longer hilly curve later. Maybe I'm getting a little better at this. It was cool putting down through the valley, under a canopy of trees along the river. The incline stop at Vaughn Rd was short. I don't exactly always look for the friction point anymore, sometimes I just feel it and go. It was like that today. I'm really enjoying this road today. We turned left onto Boston Mills Rd and twisted on up to Old Route 8. I slowed a little before getting up top, but it was fine. It was so sunny on Brookpark and Canal, most of it anyway, and Chaffee, that it seemed to be a stark change riding on the sun dappled curves of Riverview Rd. It's even more so on Boston Mills Rd, and when you get to the top, there are new holes everytime we go through there. I watch for that. The varigated shadows and spotty sunshine makes it harder to see the bumpy blemishes in the road, so I take it slower in places. I have to ride within my limits AND within my bike's limits. The rough ride dictates in some areas. It has to.

We took Old Route 8 up to 303 and turned right. I don't seem to be having a problem at this intersection anymore. Thank goodness. We sped along on 303 as I stayed right up with Scott. On the whole, I've been keeping up with him much better these days. End of the season comfort? Maybe. It's not as good as last year, but it is becoming easier. I still think I suck at some things, an example being turning, because sometimes I think about it too much. Then I'm sloppy. Sometimes I feel more confident, but it's all mental.

We turned in by the train station in Peninsula and parked in a regular spot, well before the turnaround. I started walking to the restroom and Scott headed in the opposite direction. I followed him out of curiosity. He was gazing at a swamp that I never even noticed was there before. A swamp is a swamp is a swamp, so I headed for the bathroom. We had a quick break and left.

We headed down Akron-Peninsula Rd and it was so nice. I love this road. It used to scare the crap out of me, but now it is like an old familiar friend. I hope Scott really isn't thinking he'll see that cougar again. The chances of seeing one of those things is so remote in the first place, let alone a second time. We went all the way to Akron this time and came up Riverview. We turned left on Bath Rd.

We headed up the twisties and I did fine. I stayed up with Scott pretty well, although who knows, maybe he was taking it easy. Who cares. I was having fun. We came down that steep hill that I always worried about, and especially worried about navigating with this current heavy-ass beast, but I noticed something this time. It doesn't seem so steep now. Hmmm.

We contined across Bath, having to slow down for a while behind a really slow truck with some kind of a hay wagon behind it. He finally turned, and we were off again. We turned left on Medina Line Rd and headed south. We had two bikes behind us for a while, but they turned off at 18. And no, we weren't going too slow. We continued on and turned into the little park below 162, Green Leaf park. We parked way over to the right, on the highway side. It looked like there was a soccer game going on. We walked over there and sat down on the hill next to some people. Everywhere there was a little shade, people congregated with their lawn chairs. It turned out to be a football game, and I'm guessing it was a junior high or middle school. My attention glazed over and finally, I decide to lie down on the grass. I was on my side and quite comfortable. I was hoping to drop off for a while as cat naps always prove refreshing for me. I was just starting to really relax when Scott said "let's go before you fall asleep". He still doesn't get it. For me, cat naps are good. We headed back to the bikes and I was so warm that I decided to ditch my vest. As I stuffed it in the saddlebag where I left some room, Scott said it'll get cool when we're moving. That's exactly what I was hoping for. I was too warm riding already.

We turned right, heading south on Medina Line Rd. As I throttled out, I noticed a guy on the side there at the top of the hill. He was with some people watching the game, huddled under a patch of trees, staying cool and enjoying the entertainment. He stared at me as I went by, with his mouth wide open. I had to downshift as we come to the railroad tracks, and then I throttled out again, making sure to catch up to Scott. Accordian effect. Business as usual. We took Medina Line Rd all the way to its end at Eastern Rd. After the stop sign just before that, I had a false neutral. I always seem to get one around here, either at that stop sign, or after I turn onto Eastern Rd. I've started calling it the Neutral Zone. It never fails, lately anyway.

We turned left on Rt 94 and headed south. At some point, after the jag over on 585, in the middle of nowhere, we turned off. We turned left on this little road and then turned right onto another little road. Large farm fields and sparse buildings surrounded us. We kept traveling generally south for a while, as this road had frequent ninety degree turns and a posted 15mph speed limit, and we eventually saw a sign that said Dalton. Then I realized, as we were nearing a traffic light, that we were on the second road going through Dalton, the one we jag over to. At the light at Rt 30, Scott asked if I could go for some ice cream. I said I could if we wouldn't be eating dinner soon. I did want to have dinner at Mrs. Yoder's but ice cream would put that off for a while. We pulled in an parked. I didn't have much room behind Scott; there was hardly room for a bike behind him, so I was cocked a little. When I put my sidestand down, there was almost no lean. I wasn't comfortable with that, so I moved the bike, turning it slightly to the left. Scott made a sarcastic comment about parking that thing already but I half ignored him. I told him I'd explain in a bit. I eventually told him there just wasn't any slant for the bike to lean over onto the sidestand. He looked at me blankly; I have no idea why. Maybe he didn't hear me. It doesn't matter, I knew what I was doing.

We get over to the window and I'm thinking double scoop of mint chocolate chip and he orders a hot fudge sundae. Ooooh, hard to resist that. I can't watch him eat one of those, so I ordered one too. We headed for a shady spot at a picnic table and ate our sundaes. A lady was walking a yellow lab puppy and he led her over to Scott. He was friendly. The dog, I mean. Well, Scott was friendly too, but the dog was just all puppy love. As she's walking away, I'm realizing that maybe ice cream wasn't such a good idea today. You know, it was almost too rich for today. It almost made me sick. But I finished, taking my time. I don't know WHEN I'll be able to eat dinner now. Maybe in about three hours? It was already 3:30. Being hungry and not having something nourishing is never a good idea.

I didn't know where we were headed now, so I decided to check out the restrooms there. They were nice! I didn't expect that at this old ice cream stand. Scott thought that maybe we should top off, since we already had 76 miles on for today. So we backtracked over to Citgo across the street, from whence we came. We pulled up to the back pump on one of the rows. There was so much traffic in there, that I didn't think it wise to cross it in either direction, so I backed up and was ready to just turn left and head over to the driveway when Scott came out. He looked surprised but did the same. We putted over to the driveway and a car was trying to cut me off, but let me go at the last. Can't these people see we're together? Hello! He was turning left, so it wouldn't have mattered. So why did he just keep coming at me? Grrr!

We headed south on 94, taking it all the way to Mt Eaton to pick up 241. I kept up very well. We took 241 into Mt Hope, going straight at Mrs. Yoder's corner. This puts us on County Road 77. We had to creep behind some slow moving traffic. Lots of it. Scott turned into the park, only to find a closed sign. He makes a u-turn to go back out. I kind of did too, but I wasn't very good with it. He pulls out. I pull up, into some dirt and gravel, feet slipping and almost losing it. I was careful to take my time. I stalled out, being on an incline, and eventually pulled out with a buggy in close proximity in either direction. I gradually caught up to Scott. If he wants to leave me behind like that, I'm not killing myself to catch up with him. I eventually do though, as he turns right onto a small road. This narrow road winds around through some farms. We turn right at some point and wind some more, turning onto one narrow road after another, ending up on County Rd 207, which takes us into Benton. We come to a stop at Rt 241, right in Benton, at the top of a hill. I mean a blind hill in either direction on a main highway. We cross 241 and continue as the road gets shadier. It seems more like someone's driveway than a road. I've had enough of this already; I don't particularly like these narrow off roads. For one main reason: I have to stay pretty far back from Scott as these roads have a lot of tiny gravel or cinders that get kicked up and hit me in the face. Sometimes I get stuff in my eyes as well. Add dust to that, and I'm going to have breathing problems. I know for a fact that he STILL doesn't get that one. He just doesn't get it.

So we come to this highway, but do we turn onto it? No. We go straight. Down a slight hill and then the pavement ends before us, as it goes down a steep hill. It looks like small cinder gravel and dirt. He goes, I stop. There is no way I'm taking this heavy bike down a dirt road HILL! I back up. It takes me a good while, too. I started by rocking the bike, using my legs stretched out straight. This bike is HEAVY, and it is very difficult to push it backwards up a downgrade like this. At times, I'm revving the throttle doing it. I eventually get the bike sideways so that I can use the engine to pull me up. I ease the bike up the grade until I'm in a spot that's a little more level, although I am still on a slight incline. I move over to the right but the footing is too unsteady, so I move back over a little bit. I put my bike in neutral and soon the fan comes on. I shut the bike off and wait. Let's see how long it takes him before he realizes I'm not behind him. I knew he'd be pissed off but I didn't care. I thought it was kind of funny that I didn't automatically follow the leader, but it turned out to be a good thing I didn't. What was he thinking? I waited and waited, so much so that I began to wonder what I would do if he never came back by. I think I'd have to turn left on that highway up ahead, but I wasn't totally sure. And how long should I wait before I did that? I waited some more. I tried to relax and take a break, but I was thirsty already. Scott had the drinks so that was no help. I waited some more. It was very quiet.

Finally, I hear a deep putt-putt in the distance behind me. Well, it took him long enough. Then I see three head lights come over the hill. He stopped along side of me and said I was a real pussy. Too fucking bad, Scott. He went on to say that it wasn't bad down there, it was like the towpath. I just shook my head. I couldn't believe what just came out of his mouth. The towpath is nothing but cinders and dust!!! Hello! McFly!!! I have asthma!!! I'll be choking and coughing my guts out all night! Nevermind the heavy bike thing, doesn't he know what dust does to me? I'm the one that should be mad. And faced with the same dilemma, I'd do it again. In a heartbeat. And when Scotty gets mad? Too bad!

He blasts off up to the road, and stops very briefly before turning right. I'm still getting my bike started and just happened to look up when he turned. Otherwise, I wouldn't have known which way he did turn. I putted up there and turned right to follow him. I took my good ol' time catching up, too. We were on 189, which was probably a county road as well. We turned on other various roads, eventually coming to Rt 83. That intersection looked familiar. We turned left and following this pretty winding highway, with a guardrail on the right. It kind of reminds me of Rt 39 for a stretch. We passed the Holmes County Home and curved our way south. We needed to stop for a break; my hand was really bothering me already. We turned right onto Rt 62, which soon presented a sign that said Rest Area, 1 Mile. Never saw it. The two dirt bikes in front of us turned left onto a small dirt road, onto which I hoped we would not follow. You never know.

After a while, we turned onto Rt 60. At the stop, Scott said something about "don't ask me where we are, we're lost". We went a little ways and pulled over into a gravel parking lot. I stayed on pavement, but off the road just the same. It was a garage of some sort that wasn't open today. I saw a small dog scavenging in a pile of refuse. Probably scarfing some garbage that I couldn't make out, as it looked like mostly pop cans in the pile. The little dog never came near us; I don't think he even noticed us. Scott said he thought I might be needing a break by now. I went over and got some ice out of the cooler to sooth my hand. Nothing was said about the earlier incident. Smart move there, Scott. I would have let him have it. It probably would have ended our riding days for a while, that's how mad I was by this time, partly for going so long for a break after the incident. There were places we could have stopped, but didn't. I'm not stupid.

I stretched a little and we decided to get going. I had myself a good long drink. Scott said, and I knew, that we'd come to something familiar eventually. We continued on 60, which seemed to end at Rt 39. We saw signs for Loudonville left and Millersburg right. The road across the way seemed to change into a number in the 700s. We turned right on 39 and it looked familiar. We soon passed Holmes Cheese, and then the outdoor equipment company. I knew we were just outside Millersburg. We turned right into the Citgo station on the edge of town. We parked by the picnic table. I went in to use the bathroom and when I came out, Scott was sitting at the picnic table. I gave him a kiss to reassure him and he looked surprised. I went back over by my bike. I asked him if he was getting hungry yet. Neither of us could eat yet, so we figured we'd get on home and then maybe walk up to the Jigsaw. That was sounding pretty good right about then. We figured we'd better get going if we didn't want to get stuck down there after dark. So off we went. We were figuring on trying to make it to Wadsworth without a stop in Dalton. We'll see.

We putted through Millersburg, picking up 241 on the other end of town. We continued on 241, through Benton and on up to Mt Hope. I was keeping up pretty well. We came up on some slow traffic by Mrs. Yoder's, but eventually got on through. We had to creep around the turn behind a horse drawn wagon. The food smells from the restaurant smelled pretty good, especially the fried chicken. My appetite was returning, but I still couldn't eat yet anyway. We continued up 241. In Mt Eaton, we had to creep for a good while behind some kind of hay wagon and a buggy. One turned one way and the other turned the other way, before Rt 250. We crossed 250 and headed north on 94. I kept up well on 94 but when we came into Dalton, I knew I needed to stop. My hand was bothering me again. We pulled up into the end spot in front of the building at Citgo, and Scott went in and got a small capu. I went to the bathroom after all, figuring the capuccino would cool off some by then. I ended up convincing Scott to top off there instead of Wadsworth, citing the construction area at the gas station. He jokingly agreed, as we backed up our bikes and pulled up to a pump. He pumped and I waited. I was casually looking around and I noticed two ladies gassing up to my left. They were looking at me and smiling, almost with wanderlust in their eyes. They ended up watching me go out the driveway.

We sped through to Wadsworth, not wasting any time. Scott almost pulled into the first driveway because the work had been completed there. He pulled into the second driveway instead. I curled around pretty well and parked. We went to the bathroom and had a drink. We put on our leather jackets for the ride home. It felt fine where we were, but once we enter the chilly hills of Hinckley, it'll get cold. Scott pulled out with a hover and the light was green. I did the same and almost didn't make it through the light. I shudder to think of that potential emergency stop. We took State Rd home. Just as we were coming up to the railroad tracks just south of 162, it got cold. Chilly cold. I was glad I had my leather on. We had a bit of a wait at Rt 18, but then got across easily. We continued up State Rd as the sun started to dip below the tree line. It was getting dusky. Scott pointed out a turkey on the side of the road. It turns out she had little ones, but I didn't see them. We crested the hill that overlooks the valley and came to a stop at Ledge Rd. I told Scott to stop. There were no cars around, especially behind us, so I put my bike in neutral, flipped up my face shield and removed my sunglasses. I slipped my clipons down the front of my shirt. Then I zipped up, lowered my face shield, put my bike in gear, and we were off again. I hoped I hadn't removed my sunglasses too soon as it looked like we may see some sun peeking over the tree line, but it was okay. It had been getting kind of dark for me, so this was better. We got up into town okay.

Scott was going a little fast above Pleasant Valley as I laid back a bit. Kind of. We were in the center lane and I was having some difficulty navigating so fast around the bumps and traffic. At least we weren't weaving. There was a guy along side of us pulling a Harley Davidson trailer. He kept getting up next to us or staying just back. We couldn't get over. Finally, after one light, we sped up and managed to change lanes. We were above Grantwood by this time. We turned right onto Russell with that guy right up on my ass. My turn into the driveway was wobbly and slow. I'm going through THAT now with this bike. Hopefully, this too shall pass. I was a little wobbly up the driveway, too. I pulled up into the garage to park. I revved my engine a little before I shut off my bike. Scott sighed and I told him I only did that because I know how much he likes it. He said I was trying to make him jealous. Yeah, that too. 199 miles today.

I folded up my leather and put it back in the bike. We talked with our neighbor Herb for a short bit and said what a beautiful day it was today and that we'd probably head in another direction tomorrow. We walked up to the Jigsaw for dinner. I was in the mood for something light so I got a chicken wrap, but I asked for the poppyseed dressing instead of that parmesan pepper stuff. We had mushrooms too, of course. We watching the Bucks play Texas on the big screen, and watched the Tribe trounce the Twinkies on a smaller screen. We ordered some takeout for the boys at home and headed home to crash. We were so tired. It turned out to be a good riding day. The dirt road hill has not been mentioned since, but I have a feeling it'll rear it's ugly head again sometime in the near future. I'm ready.

Sunday, September 11, 2005
Something about today's date seemed familiar, but it wasn't until later in the evening that I realized why. Today marks the four year anniversary of the 9/11 attacks. I don't know why it took so long to dawn on me. They had some hooded dweeb from California on the news, threatening more attacks in Los Angeles and Australia.

We planned on getting up early and getting out of the house by 10am to head out to Geneva On The Lake. I fell asleep to Jersey Girl and woke up around 4:30am. And it was on again. I had horrible indigestion from the grilled parts of my chicken earlier. Then, once I was up, I was coughing. I got back to sleep somewhere around 6:30 and slept until around nine. By the time I washed my hair and showered, and made breakfast, it was 10:15. I guess it's easy to see where this is going. I thought if we tried really hard, or if I tried really hard to get ready, we could make it out by eleven. It was not to be, though. Scott ended up going back to sleep for a while, and I even drifted off again, but he was really sleeping. I folded some towels and a white load, and then I went into the bedroom to put everything away. He woke up and I asked him if he was going to sleep all day. Usually it's him asking me that. He got up and ended up in the recliner. I asked him if he wanted to even get out today. Perhaps he'd rather tank it and hang aroung the house today. I was tired, too, but now I was getting some of my energy back. He didn't want to hang around the house today, so we decided to get out for a while. He mentioned that it was too late to go out to Geneva, which I already gathered. I had some doubts about going out. I had that falling feeling in my head a little, but I've felt worse and gone out, and was glad I did, so I figured I should just get my butt in gear and go. I had no idea where we would go, but I didn't care because whatever it was, it wasn't hanging around the house and vegetating. We didn't end up leaving until about 1:30 in the afternoon.

We went up to the gas station to top off, and then pulled out onto State Rd. When we turned right onto Brookpark Rd, there was a guy on a bike sitting at the light on Brookpark, headed west. As I turned the corner, passing by him, he just stared at me. If this keeps up I'm going to end up developing some sort of complex. We continued east on Brookpark and turned right on Canal. Same thing, only this time there were two guys on bikes sitting at that light that I passed by when I turned. Their eyes were definitely on me. There was also one at the light on the opposite side of Canal. I figure he was watching me as well. I was wearing a bright orange cap sleeve, low cut, slinky top. I'm not exactly flat chested, so there should be no doubt that I am female. Plus, I make sure to wear lipstick when I go out. Motorcycle girl all the way. When I first started riding, I wanted to blend in. Now I flaunt.

Man it's great to be out today. I really didn't want to sit around the house today. Canal Rd felt pretty good. It's one of those days that is hot when you stop, but nice and coool when you ride. It was really cool going up the hill, under the trees. Ooh, it felt good, though. I was resigned to an afternoon of riding the valley, but imagine my surprise when we didn't turn on Chaffee. We went straight on Valley View Rd (Canal becomes), and I was suddenly wearing a smile from ear to ear. I like going this way. When we came to Old Route 8, we went straight. That's fine, probably even better. We went all the way up to Rt 82. Scott was gunning for getting through the light and so was I, to keep up, but we had to stop at the last minute. That light took forever to change. And it looked as though the crosslights were out, but our light eventually changed and we were able to make our turn. We followed Rt 82 and I was trying to drink it in. We don't go this way very often. Scott doesn't like the straight roads where you have to haul ass; I guess he just wants to haul ass on the tight twisty curves.

I took in some of the familiar sights. We used to go this way a lot when I rode with Scott on the back of the old Shadow. I remember looking for signs of Six Flags, now Geauga Lake again, when we went through the intersection of Aurora and East Aurora. Aurora Rd is everywhere, but that's a long story, one for another time. We continued on and I had a sudden memory of an industrial park we would always see that had a neat three dimensional graphic at its entrance. Almost instantly, I saw the silvery icon of Canyon Falls Industrial Park. I surmised that my subconscious was working before my conscious memory. The scenery must have looked right or something. In any event, it feels good to be doing something different.

We eventually came to Rt 44 (Mantua Corners) and we pulled in by that store. I went in to use the bathroom. Scott seemed to have a funny attitude today; I don't know what his problem is. When I came out, we discussed whether we should continue east on 82, or head north on 44. Scott said something about heading over to Burton. No, I wanted to do something different. I asked how long it's been since we went straight on 82 and he said he didn't know. He's been that way, and surely I have, but it sounded new and different, so that's what I voted for. We could also go south on 44 but somehow that got negated. We'd go east, then south, and then come back west. Scott wanted to be home before dark and he said something about how I don't like coming home with the sun glare. Well, does he??? Yup, definitely sensing some attitude there.

So, we pulled out of there and went straight. He blasted through the light and I had to stop. Figures. He slowed ahead and pulled over to wait for me. We continued on Rt 82. It turned corners a couple of times as we went through little towns and farmlands alike. The scenery was very pretty, and some of the towns looked old. There was one where we had to make some interesting turns and curvy jags to stay on 82. We went through Windham, and others. At one point, we were coming into Hiram and a couple on a bike, going in the opposite direction, signaled to us. We instantly slowed, but then the speed limit lowered to 35mph. Sure enough, there was a cop with a radar gun at the next corner. He watched us go by and then turned his attention on the next passerby. This was one of those right turns to stay on 82.

We kept going for quite a while, almost turning onto 303, where it ends at 534. Instead, we went a little further and turned right on 534. We would have been going in the opposite direction, further north, to head up to Geneva. We were traveling south now, through more farmlands. At one intersection there was a lone beer joint called Paris Tavern, with a single bike parked outside and a couple of cars. What a way to spend a Sunday afternoon, eh? Guys kill me. Get on the bike to ride to a gin mill to get away from the old lady. No doubt.

We continued on, eventually turning right onto Rt 5 west. This was a two lane highway, straight and true. Scott said later that we passed Ravenna Armory, which used to be a storage facility for stockpiling arms for the military. Now I think they have controlled deer hunts in there. We continued along, staggered in a close knit formation. We soon saw signs that the road would be closed ahead, so we turned at the next opportunity, before the posted detour. We turned left onto 225 south (or 223, I forget) and traveling further south. At one point, we turned right onto a road that looked like it had been newly paved, but was as yet unmarked with any lines. It was a grainy surface, not pebbly, but more like sharper edged tiny stones. And it was ripply. These ripples had me bouncing around like crazy, and you couldn't see them coming. A car that was behind us had turned also, and soon passed us. And I mean he zoomed around us. Good, he was following too close anyway. We'd been seeing signs for West Branch and soon Scott turned right onto a little narrow road. It looked like the first part of the road was gravel; Scott made a very wide slow turn, so I think he thought it was, too. I turned and followed him onto the pavement. I wasn't sure if it WAS gravel. The road was narrow and densely shaded. It seemed more like someone's driveway and I hoped that we would not have a repeat of the day before. That's all I needed. That road seemed to curve away and we went straight onto a road that was just as narrow, but with newer pavement. We continued through the trees and eventually came to a clearing that revealed beautiful blue water. This was West Branch. My sister and her husband used to come out here to go fishing. They must have gone somewhere where they rent boats, though. We used the bathroom, which was an experience in itself. Lots of bugs, and not necessarily the ones you usually see in the can. Then we walked down to the water's edge and sat at a picnic table in the shade. We watched the boaters, water skiers and jet skiers get their last enjoyment of the waters while the getting was still good. Soon it'll be too cool, or at least the water will be too cold. It's sad watching summer wind down. I know fall is pretty but I'd rather just have a longer summer. Fall means cold weather is coming, and so are the holidays. Oh no, is that coming up again? Lord help me get through that. I've become as jaded as the holidays have become commercial.

The water was pretty, but there was something dirty about this place. The restrooms notwithstanding, even the water, at the water's edge, looked muddy. The surf was muddy, like almost thick looking. Further out it looked pretty, but something there was leaving a bad taste in my mouth. We figured we'd better get going and figure out how to get home from there. Scott seemed to think we'd be able to get back out on that grainy road and eventually we should come to either Rt 14 or Rt 43, he couldn't remember. I told him to think about where and what he wanted to eat, and whether he wanted to stop somewhere close to home or go home and go back out. I knew we shouldn't figure on eating somewhere too far out and then have a glare-filled or too-dark ride home. Still, the fact that he wasn't sure how to get home, tells me we're lost again. That's two days in a row, making this The Lost Weekend. I'm enjoying this. Does it show?

We left and made our way back to the grainy road. The end of the one we were one was not gravel, it was that pebbly pavement mix, but it looked like gravel. Even when you were on it. We turned right and rode on. Even the eventual changes in pavement were ripply for a good ways, but you could see it coming a little better. We eventually came to Rt 14 and turned right. Following Rt 14 had us turning a few times and for a while it ran with Rt 44. After a good bit we came to 303 and turned left to head back west. We jagged over in Streetsboro, oddly enough, I think on Rt 14. Route 303 is nice over this way. You go through Hudson as well, and that's a quaint looking little town. I thought we'd get gas at one of these gas stations on the right, but no. I realized we'll stop at the BP where we used to take so many breaks. He waited to tell me until we were at the light right there, probably so I wouldn't say no, let's get it somewhere easier. I don't know why it's even an issue with him, but apparently it is. We went through the light and turned into the gas station. The pump we pulled up to wasn't working and I thought maybe it was like in Geneva, where you have to pay first, even with a motorcycle. It had started pumping, but stopped at forty-eight cents. Scott had the guy come out and he reset it. He said they were having problems with it and that someone was coming out to fix it. It pumped for both bikes. When Scott came out, he asked if I wanted to stop somewhere down the road and then go to Hoggy's. I said let's just pull over here. I wondered how I'd get out of there, but didn't say anything. God forbid I verbalize something like that today, with his strange attitude.

Hoggy's sounded great. He said he'd leave it up to me which way we go, down Old Route 8 or down Riverview. I told him I thought we WOULD just go down Old Route 8. I told him I was getting hungry already and wanted to just get on towards home and get something to eat. From Hoggy's we wouldn't have far to go home, so I didn't care if it was dark or glary. I asked which way we were going out and he said to go around the far set of pumps and use the inner driveway because there was more room for the both of us. That's what we did and I did okay with the minor whippy dippy I had to perform. We went right down Old Route 8. This was easy and I was getting tired and hungry.

We took Old Route 8 to Valley View Rd and turned left. I thought it was a nice ride. I stayed up with Scott. When we went down the hill on Canal, I was still up with him. Usually I'm not. Accordian effect. When we turned onto this road from Chaffee, he blasts off. Then I turn and have to try to catch up on the curves. Usually I don't so much bother. But today, I'm right up there. Going down the hill is chilly cool but it feels so good it plasters another big smile on my face. We putt along Canal Rd until we pass Rockside Rd and come up on the entrance to Cinemark, Quaker Steak, Hoggy's, etc. We turn in and go around to park. Oddly, it didn't take long. I ditched my sunglasses and asked Scott to lock up my helment. I didn't want to spend gobs of time, as people were walking in ahead of us. It's getting close to seven o'clock, the dinnertime rush. On the way in, we saw another VLX. It was purple with some flames and stuff painted on it. But nice. It was with some kind of purple Harley. Scott said what it was but I didn't pay much attention. The more I know about Harleys, the less they do it for me.

We went and headed for the rest rooms. I went at the BP station, so I only wanted to wash my hands. I hate to sit down at a table without washing my hands first. They seated us to the right in the smoking section. I like it better in there. We had a booth to climb up in, bit I rather like it. We have a good view of the bar and three television screens. No Browns game though. We each had a salad and the half rack of baby back ribs, with the sweet sauce. Yum. Their salads are huge, but they're so good. Our dinners came, laid out on plates the size of a small state. We stuffed ourselves; it was so so good. I'd been wanting to come here. It's kind of expensive, so I figured we'd come in the fall again like last year. So we're a little early. I, I mean we, deserve it. I used the ladies room on the way out and we headed back to the bikes. Scott was putting his leather on for the ride home. I balked, but in the end, I put mine on too. He said it would get chilly in the valley, I think referring to the dips on Brookpark by Lancaster Drive.

The sun was very low for the ride home, but the glare wasn't that bad. Perhaps there is some haze difffusing its blinding effects. It just isn't as bad as it has been other times. We turned onto Tuxedo to cruise on home through the neighborhood. As we turned onto W 33rd to cut over to Russell, there was a guy on a bike coming up to the stop sign, going in the oppositie direction on Tuxedo. Again I feel intense eyes on me. I turned well. We came down Russell and turned left into the driveway as some of the kids on Russell watched. I was wobbly coming up the driveway and kind of crept up to a stop. I put the bike in neutral and put my foot on the brake pedal to give my hand some relief as I waited for Scott to open the garage and park his bike. I slapped it into first and rolled in beside him. I revved my engine as I turned to Scott and smiled. He just smiled and shook his head. I love the sound of my bike, especially in the close quarters of the garage. As we shed gear, Scott admitted that the leathers were too warm for the way home. I did feel some chill on Brookpark, in that one spot, but I rather think it would have felt pretty good. I agreed, it was overkill. We could have stood it, the little way we had to come home. 113 miles today, 312 this weekend.

I'm so glad we got out today.

©2008 The L.W. Wallace Co., Inc.