Actual motorcycle content

This post is about an actual motorcycle ride, but don't worry—I have an ulterior motive.

Some of you folks know that I belong to a group called the Iron Butt Association, an informal motorcycle club, the requirement for joining which is to ride 1000 miles or more in 24 hours or less, called a Saddlesore 1000. This post is about a marshmallow butt. 

It all started about three years ago. My birthday was coming up, and Val wanted permission to get me something expensive for my birthday. The year before she had given me a central vac for the house. Her clue had been that the gift "really sucks." That adventure is another story. Anyway, I insisted on knowing what it would be, guessing at a GPS unit. We had been playing around with geocaching without one. Nope. She wanted to buy me a motorcycle. (I always knew there was a good reason to marry her!) She had a lead on a bike through the then-owner of Matilda's, a nearby Australian restaurant. As it happened, he was never able to contact the owner of the bike, and I went online to look at motorcycle want ads. Long story short, I ended up with a 1981 R100RT—an old BMW touring bike. If you're really into ride reports, check out my first and second attempts at a saddlesore 1000.

But I started out with an easier ride. My weekends were rather unscheduled back then, and I developed the habit of taking a Saturday ride around the countryside. On the Saturday in question I decided to re-explore Susquehanna State Park, which I had discovered several years before, when I first moved to DE.

The day started out threatening rain, so I dug out my 100-year old rain suit and tucked it into a side carrier. I stopped for gas about a mile down the road, and the sprinkles started, so I scrunched into the thing, hopped onto the bike, and headed for the Interstate, about half a mile away, at which point it stopped raining and the sun came out for the rest of the day. I eventually did get out of the rain suit, but in the meantime, I got so drenched in sweat that I may as well have not worn the rain suit, which would have caused it to rain torrents, according to the rule related to washing one's car. Six of one, half a dozen of the other, I always say. Anyway, I found the park entrance, which is up on the bluff overlooking the river, and started down the winding, narrow, tree-lined, cool, shady, gully-on-one-side, cliff-on-the-other interesting road. Doubly interesting because it kept getting narrower. It wasn't content to turn into two narrow lanes without shoulders, either. Pretty soon it was almost too narrow to accommodate a motorcycle and a pickup truck coming the other way. I ran the guy into the gully and made it safely to the bottom.

The gully harbors a stream that leads to a mill pond, flanked by a mill (fancy that). And that day the mill happened to be open. I took the tour, ignoring bits of truck drifting down the sluice, and concentrated on admiring the sophistication of the antique technology. As it happened, they grind corn at this place, and give away small bags of freshly-ground corn meal. I happen to have a favorite corn meal pancake recipe, which I offered to share with the guy, and which he gladly accepted, and herein lieth my ulterior motive.

Today I got an email from someone who had just read another of my sites, farmfamilyrecipes.com. She said she laughed out loud reading it! As if that weren't enough, she added that she looked forward to reading future posts. I haven't touched that site for months. It was an exercise so I could learn about creating web sites. That single note of praise has sucked me into wanting to add to the site, and that corn meal pancake recipe is going to be the next item, and it'll refer to this ride report. Give me a few minutes. I'm going over there as soon as I finish this. Some people like Mayberry.

I finished up the ride with lunch at general store in a small rural village, visited a country cemetery with a funeral in progress (set my mufflers to Extra Quiet as I rode by) and had a pleasant ride home to my dear sweet wife who had talked me into getting a motorcycle.