Double sad and guilty fun

Poor Jack Riepe. He planned such a nice ride, and then a friend has a mishap, ending Jack's participation in the ride because he was such a good guy and helped with transportation of the injured. I'm pretty sure well get a more detailed report on his blog in due course. So—sad that the accident happened, and sad that he didn't get to do the ride. But that's okay, Jack, we had a wonderful time without you.

I got to the gas station where I usually pick up Mac Pac rides about two minutes before a large number of BMWs pulled up at the light, which, fortunately for me, was red. Otherwise they would have zoomed through and I'd have messed them during the half second I looked down to unzip my jacket. As it was, I yelled "Jack" and waved my arms to get someone's attention. Sure enough, everybody ducked and swung around the corner, as if they were avoiding some sort of apparition.

I learned that the group had split so some could take a more adventurous route to Delaware, and this was those folks. We headed off for the designated photo spot, a parking lot in Fort Penn, across from the atomic power plant, where we expected to meet the rest of the riders. Weather was beautiful, and the route scenic and familiar. I took up the end. That way, if something happened to me, I wouldn't get run over. We arrived in due course and lined up the bikes. It's a good thing nobody was in a hurry because one of Delaware's finest was parked just around the turn just before the parking lot. He stopped at least three cars while we waited.

About this time we learned about the mishap, and received instructions to go on without Jack. It was one of those situations where you feel bad, but there's nothing you can do about it, and you may as well continue with the activity. Guilty fun is better than no fun, I guess. About then three riders from Jack's group showed up, too, having earlier come to the same conclusion. We had spent a while waiting at the lot, so we decided to bag the dirt road to the nature preserve, and just go eat.

We spent so much time waiting, I took a couple artsy-fartsy photos. Here's one. The cooling tower in the background is the one behind Jack's Google picture, BTW.

The ride was uneventful and pleasant, and the town of Bowers Beach was so small we found JP's Wharf without any trouble even though we didn't know where in town it was. They had just opened for the season and had only a few tables set up, so we sat at the bar on the wharf. Food was pretty good. I had a Whoopie Burger--fish patty under a slice of pineapple and mango salsa on a bun. Sweet, not bad. Real onion rings. Several of the other plates looked pretty good, too. Big crab cakes, large crab lags, generous bowls for soup. Sorry, no photos of the food, but plenty of photos of the event at my Picasa site. Feel free to add comments.

Oh yes. The waitresses were cute. Um, not as cute as my dear sweet wife, of course, but cute. They asked where Jack was; one had a Russian accent.