Last weekend featured the annual “Roar to the Shore” event, a good time to stay inside with the windows sealed. Various sources estimated between 50,000 and 100,000 motorcycles on the island. I don’t know if those are exaggerated figures, but I estimate that a lot of bikes were in town.
Tropical storm Hanna threatened to spoil the fun, and a few events were canceled, but silly little tropical storms are hardly a match for biker types. Maybe we car people stayed inside to ride out the storm, but bikers like to literally “ride out” the storm, or so it seems from the non-storm rumblings during the weather infraction.
On Sunday, we passed a group of Pagans heading north on the Parkway, riding what appeared to be stock bikes. I thought Pagan types generally rode choppers, but either I don’t know much about motorcycle gangs, or maybe times have changed. Back in the 80’s I lived in Charlotte, which was the East Coast headquarters of the Hells’ Angels at the time, and they mostly rode choppers, the bikes with low seats and high handlebars.
A couple of individual bikers were heading north, and one of them rode a bike with handlebars that kept the rider’s hands up over his head, I guess in case he needed to do a few chin-ups to stretch his muscles. Maybe I’ll get an extension tube for my mountain bike and see if there’s some advantage to hanging from the handlebars.
I never really got into biking, as far as cycles go. Back in the 60’s, I started out on a Vespa, and lived out “Roman Holiday” at the Jersey Shore. My friend, Rocco, showed up on leave from the Army with a Norton Commando, which he let me try out, on the condition that he fire it up for me. I took it around the block, and felt squeamish about the front wheel jumping from the road every time I shifted. Other than that, my total bike experience involved riding gravel pits on my brother’s 175cc Kawasaki and an early motocross bike with no shocks.
So the Roar to the Shore now sounds like the Chirp at the Surf, with the crickets coming out in force now that the bikes have departed. I like the cricket sounds more, and one of them told me that making those little chirps saves lives, because you can hear them coming. I suggested they also add headlamps, and he said they’re considering that, after meeting with a group of fireflies.
Next weekend, the firemen roll into town for the New Jersey State Firemen’s Convention. Instead of the thunder of cycle engines, we’ll be treated to sirens and flashing red lights, and not just on the fire engines. They like to convert their motel room balconies into makeshift fire engines, with flashing lights and sirens. It must be a firemen’s thing, but in this oh so politically correct world, shouldn’t it be the Firefighters’ Convention?