Getting Soaked for a Good Cause

Boston HOG Ladies of Harley Charity Ride

July 28, 2007

Jackson: Road Captain

Even though I still didn’t have a rain suit, the threat of possible thunderstorms later in the day didn’t keep me away from this LOH benefit ride. Proceeds were being donated to Jane Doe, Inc., an organization providing support services to victims of domestic violence and sexual assault. I never really thought about how much bikers do for charitable causes until I became one of them. It’s a great concept. We love to ride and we’re going to ride anyway. Why not raise some funds for a good cause along the way?

Over coffee before the ride I met some more members for the first time, like Kevin and Doreen, a really great couple. Jackson and his wife Michelle were there, along with Alex (short for Alexandria), Jerry and Sue, Ron and Charlene, Phil and Jim. Jackson seemed happy at the attendance; I think it was 13 on 10 bikes. There was some talk about the potential storms, but most seemed to feel they’d pass to the North-West. We mounted up and pulled out, this time headed for the highway. I was about to gain more experience as a rider in a group; the first of several new things I’d learn that day.

On the highway, Jackson led the ride into the middle lane. Jim rode sweep, and I was just ahead as we made our way up Route 95, and onto 93 North which would take us to Boston Harley-Davidson. At the Braintree-split we headed towards Boston, and as we swept into the curve, the bikes ahead began pulling over. Something was wrong. Kevin’s bike had been damaged; his kickstand spring had been knocked loose by road debris. Somebody had some tie-wraps, and a quick fix was made in the breakdown lane as traffic whizzed by us at 70mph. We were not in a good spot; we had to get back on the road as soon as possible. Though we all had our flashers on, one wrong move by some idiot in a car and we’d be all done.

Jim told me what to do next. He’d be pulling out first, and once he had the right lane, he’d slow down and hold the cars back. Then, we’d all pass him in the breakdown lane and pull ahead until the last bike was through. We were back on the highway in a matter of seconds, and we were quickly swallowed whole by very heavy traffic. Crowded as it was, the “cages” – what bikers call cars – gave Blackstone some space. I had my eye on Alex (shown here at the Metro West Ride), and not just because she’s so damned cute. Riding a Softail Night Train, with braided raven-black hair down past her ass, Alex is sweet if she likes you, but takes shit from nobody. She didn’t like tunnels so well…and we were just a few minutes away from entering one of the biggest around.

This was my first ride through the “Big Dig” tunnel on a bike, and it was awesome. Truth be told, it was pretty goddamned dangerous, but when I saw the new Bunker Hill Bridge come into view at the end of the tunnel I didn’t care. You just had to be there, riding a Harley. As we broke out of the tunnel and accelerated up onto the bridge, my heart literally pounded with excitement. I don’t care what anyone says – it’s worth the risk. If I end up getting killed on two wheels, I want it known that I loved the ride. We’re all going to die some day. If mine comes doing something I love, then it’s alright by me.

As we exited the highway, the roads absolutely sucked! There were so many hazards - high man-hole covers, low sewer grates, and frigging pot holes everywhere. Welcome to the North Shore of Boston. I’ll never understand how people can be content to live there. As we pulled into Boston H-D, it was clear this wasn’t going to be a ride the likes of last week’s Metro West run; there were not a lot of bikes. There was more than an hour to kill before the ride left. I bought a $7 ride T-shirt, which would later be sold for a buck each after the ride - another lesson learned. Dark, nasty-looking clouds crept closer as I headed inside to check out all the new bikes. I loved my Sportster, but still dreamed of the day I could trade it in for a Softail Custom or a Road King.

Half of our group had left for home because of the gathering storm clouds by the time the ride started. They had the right idea, but I was having fun and decided to stick it out with the others. The ride sucked. I hate to say that, but the North Shore is such a congested urban area we barely ever got out of 3rd gear. In Boston HOG’s defense, because of the weather they were just trying to get us directly to the restaurant. By the time we arrived at the Bay Bridge Restaurant in Salem, the sky was so black it was like an eclipse or something. 10 minutes later, as we were all at the bar having a beer, it started pouring like all get out.

When the food came, Jackson and the others made a bee line for it, but I decided to wait – another mistake. The moron running the place didn’t have a clue. The line was stretched more than 20 deep for nearly an hour, and all they were serving were hot dogs, salad and pasta! I finally got in the line, waited 20 minutes to get to the food table, and found 2 hot dogs left, no rolls, and some salad. After waiting another 10 minutes for hot dog rolls, I was so pissed-off that I walked out. There was a pizza place two doors down. I got 4 slices to go and brought them back to the bar. Alex was laughing her ass off. Another lesson learned – always go for the food right away!

Things got better with the raffle. I won the “Godfather” DVD collection, something I really wanted. What I didn’t want was to get soaked, but it was still pouring when we left; time for another new experience. We had to pull over and stop 3 times because we just couldn’t see. Once, I took a ride back a few blocks to check out a gin mill I’d seen, hoping it’d be a good spot to wait out the rain. It turned out to be Little Havana. In about two seconds I knew I was in the wrong place, and proceeded to get the hell out of there. When I got back to the others, who had taken up shelter in a bus stop kiosk, Jackson laughed like hell when I told him I couldn’t stay at the bar because I didn’t have a gun.

The rain finally passed and the sun came back out. That felt good because even though it was the middle of the summer, I was soaked to the bone. It didn’t take long for me to wind-dry, and I was glad to see the landscape of the South Shore again as we finally hit the Braintree-split. As I peeled-off from the group to head south on Route 24, the race was on again. It looked like it could start pouring again any second so I did around 80 the rest of the way home, but I made it. After a hot shower and some dry clothes, I reflected on another great ride with Blackstone, rain and all.