Chapter 142

1/14/2007

Laconia Bike Week

Motorcycle Trek

I've submitted this article for our museum newsletter as we gear up for our "Motorcycle Exhibit".

During my motorcycle rebel phase (which continues to today), I took many trips which included the Adirondacks, Maine, Cape Cod, and Lime Rock Park, CT. A friend, Jim Behan, had taken the Skip Barber Racing School and raced a Pinto and Dodge Colt there in SCCA. There were several memorable trips to Laconia, NH  for the annual AMA Pro Super Bike Road Race Championships. The main attraction was making the scene, not the races, although we actually did watch a few. I did this on a variety of machines from a $500 '70 Triumph 650 twin, a brand new $4000 '81 HD Sportster 1000 V-twin, to a $200 '77 650 Kawasaki L-4, in that order. [motorcycle theft-another story]. We went in packs of 2 to 6 bikers. They were always adventurous, enjoyable, and memorable getaways usually ending in a five hour grind home through the rain and darkness.

On the first trip in '78, we had beautiful sunny weather as we traversed the scenic windy mountainous route up through Manchester , VT heading northeast. This is the true joy of riding. We had to stop for the quaint little toll shack to pay a 15 cent fee to cross the border bridge into NH, where we promptly removed our helmets not  required by "the Man". As we approached Laconia the anticipation and excitement rose along with the mobs of bikers and bikes that were everywhere. With darkness falling, we had no place to stay and all the motels were filled. We had no intention of paying for lodging anyway as we had our tents. We wanted to at least ride down to the infamous Weirs Beach on Lake Winnipesaukee that we'd heard and read about. Life Magazine and the NY Times had reported on the Riot of 1965 describing the clash of 10,000 rowdies with the National Guard and local police.

When we attempted to proceed to the beach we were turned away by the NH State Police with red flares and flashing blue squad car lights. They had the road blocked off but we could see the smoldering turned over and torched car in the near distance. Someone said they'd used tear gas the night before. This was Harley country with Hell's Angels and various other unsavory gangs making their presence known. We were simple government professionals merely taking a break from our mundane office desk jobs. For the most part we experienced a friendly camaraderie from all the people we met from all walks of life. You'd run into a young woman lawyer by herself on a shiny new Harley or an 80 year old grandpa on a rundown Indian or a Honda. All sorts, all with the love of the motorcycle in common.

We ended up finding a little space to pitch our tent amongst a bunch of noisy bikers that first night but I wanted a little more peaceful atmosphere and headed toward Gunstock Mt. Ski area the next day. Posted no camping signs were everywhere. Having some farming background, I felt comfortable approaching a farmer on his tractor cutting hay. He volunteered a space to us on his farm behind a trailer. A few years later when we returned and asked again he readily obliged saying,  " I wondered where you guys had been?" A gas station restroom was convenient for shaving, brushing your teeth or change clothes and we could bathe in a nearby creek. Equipment malfunction and repair was usually minimal but you just did whatever was necessary. I did have an issue with my eyeglasses on one trip. There was also the occasional nearly major disaster like the return trip via the Maine shoreline when Tony broke his clutch cable. He had to run alongside and jump on while jamming the gears to shift. Stop lights were a bit of a tricky situation. We made it.

chapter 142B  another year

chapter 142C Redux

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