By old, I did not mean us by the way. We are just feeling downright bad-ass. We left Dry Ridge KY fairly early and knew we wanted to run into the antique motorcycle rally guys, but did not know exactly where or how. The route is a secret and as we discovered when we chatted with a couple of the volunteers today at a coffee stop, nobody knows but the riders. A day on these trips is measured in coffee stops. And coffee stops mean talking stops. We rode through the fog rising off the Ohio River (which we have crossed a few times now), which was spectacular. The rush hour Cincinnati traffic was not as wonderful however but you just grin and bear it (and we had to rip Dicks hand off the handlebars when it was over).
We shot out of the highway traffic due east on Rt 50 and the traffic all disappeared, so the first stop was a dinky gas station / store with mostly empty shelves and a coffee shop next door. A couple locals (one with teeth) chatted us up and explained the farming climate (most farms are gone, the kids don't work anymore, big ag companies run the show, etc), what all these plants are (soy whose leaves turn yellow in a week or two and then they wait for the beans (3 or 4 in a pod) to dry so they do not have to dry them artificially, costs money), and how the government is taking over the trucking industry with video surveillance and computerized logs.
One guys sister (not the toothless guy) ran the coffee shop and and a third sibling (with a pony tail and a hat) all seemed to help out with the restaurant(but one was a trucker). The ongoing joke was that the nice Indian man who ran the store kept losing the key to the outside men's room so we all had to use the outside women's room, including the M&M woman which is too complicated to explain. Anyway, I feel like we now have another family in Ohio if we ever need a backup (or a truck driving job).
So off to Chillicothe and we found a hotel pretty easily at 11am, with three real beds (no pullout), so Dick got lucky as tonight was his shift.
Now we have to find the bikes. The two volunteers in the coffee shop (not the toothless guy or bald guy or ponytail guy) said they thought the bikes would NOT use Rt 50 so we decided to just go get lost (which is why we chose John to lead, successfully I might add). We got good and lost in a rolling, well treed area of Ohio called Hoking Hills which people flock to, presumably to escape the vast flatness of the mid-west. They have creeks and caves and hardwood trees. We saw wedding places and beautiful countrysides, pastures, all the stuff we have at home. But we did not see a single 100 year old motorcycle, so we headed back to Chillicothe to catch the 4pm arrival of the bikes. We met a couple other guys in a car sitting waiting for the bikes on Rt 50, and they had seen nothing. One of them had raced in NH in the 70's so he and Dave recalled the good old days of rowdy Laconia NH. We saw the same guys a couple hours later at the motel the bikes all arrived at.
Sure enough, just as we pulled into the Hyatt hotel where the bikes were ending the day, the old bikes came pouring in. These guys are having a blast and you can tell they have all worked hard the last couple years preparing these old bikes. We heard accents from Germany, England and Japan so this is a big deal. Some were just regular Joes and some wore period leather stuff and they were all kinda grey from following other smoky old motorcycles the 218 miles they traveled today. I love to be around people who love what they are doing!!
So for a measly $30-$40K you can buy one of these old beauties and race next time in 2 years.
No more bikes coming in so we checked out the behind the scenes action (lots of wheels off and bearings being repacked) and then off to dinner and a cold beer.
Tomorrow we head for Pennsylvania and some Amish country. I am officially the only non-retired person present all day. Am I missing something?? Hmmmm.
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