Forest, Ontario

It was a great day to be riding in Ontario. Eight of us on 7 bikes got through Customs at the Blue Water Bridge with very little delay. Pete took the lead since he: A-is a transplanted Canadian, and B-seemed to know which way to go to get to Stefanik's house. This turned out to be not entirely accurate, as he homed in on the wrong address when we were within a few blocks of our goal.

The confusion was short-lived as Mike L. came to the rescue. He and his wife zoomed ahead with the rest of us following. Mike turned confidently into Don's yard and around some silos where he parked. A while later we found out he was just looking for a wide spot to turn around when he spotted Don's Amsoil sign.

I have come to expect this sort of behavior among bikers. It used to be called falling in it and coming up smelling like a rose. Any way you look at it, we looked good thanks to Mike, and that's all that counts.

Don came out to greet us and one by one, his family joined us. I got out my note pad and dutifully wrote down everyone's name as they arrived, along with their screen name and home town. I maintained this log through out the day since I have been so bad at remembering names in previous blog entries. Needless to say, I made it to my garage before realizing I had left the note pad on one of the picnic tables.

I mentioned the Stefanik family's hospitality in an earlier entry but I'll say thanks again here in case they are reading this. They have a lot of good friends, but with a family like theirs the friends are just a bonus.

As the day wore on, more and more people arrived. At about 3:00 or so Bulldog and Meesh rolled in along with Wild Bill Moore and his wife (whose name is on the note pad - sorry). Before them, Doug Holman who goes by Tenpinarm came in from Rochester. We had one attendee from Dallas; Peter who goes by Slovak on the boards. Peter didn't ride as far as it seems. He has been working in Lansing and had a fairly short jaunt to meet us. Interestingly, he couldn't stay for dinner, as he is leaving for Anchorage on Sunday. The guy gets around.

The motorcycle group and the non-cyclists were cordial and even friendly. There were even a few worthwhile conversations. But inevitably, the groups sort of settled in among their peers and enjoyed the company and conversations unique to their experience.

Polecat and I planned ahead and started putting a dent in the beer supply early in the day. I was at a disadvantage, planning to return home that evening. Steve was better prepared than I. He took over the LaBatt duties since he intended to camp out on the farm.

Everybody had a great time. Don was spread pretty thin with so many guests to attend to. But now he is retired, maybe he can make more of the events. Accessories were assessed, tires were critiqued, lies were told, tentative plans for the next meet were laid. In short, it was a perfect Saturday. To top it all off, two catering trucks full of goodies arrived and everyone had a feast that rivaled a Thanksgiving dinner at the in-laws.

All good things must come to a middle, then end. CJS was the first to voice what we all knew had to happen. It was time to go. One by one others saddled up. Like a dustbunny, our little group grew until five bikes were ready to head west into the sunset.

Now I like Canadians, usually better than U.S. people. But I have to wonder about some of their traffic engineers. On the way back, we took a side road south. As we approached 402, there was a sign directing us to turn left before we reached the highway in order to head west. Huh? I always thought the "Michigan U-turns" were inspired by Satan. This is the craziest way to enter a highway I've seen yet. To quote my old friend Bill Dennis: "I been to 14 axle greasins, four goat ropes, and a County Fair, but I ain't never seen nuthin like that!"

The rest of the trip to Sarnia was uneventful. It cost us 50 cents more to leave Canada than to get in. We waited in line 17 minutes for the privelege. Orange Crush was still leading and paid for everybody when he went through. So all we had to do was convince the guard we weren't terrorists or carrying any Bing cherries. That reminds me. I owe Pete $2.00. Pete, if you're reading this, remind me when you see me!

Once back in the States, the trip was almost over. Frank and I kept going south on 94 while Orange Crush, CJS, and Mike L. headed west on 69. Frank and I kicked it up a notch on the way south. 80 to 85 and still getting passed from time to time. We took 696 west and Frank dropped off at I-75 to head back north to his place. I ratcheted it up a little more to play tag with a Porsche Carrera and later, some type of sport bike whose rider gave me a thumbs up when I broke off for my exit to M-14.

After skirting a the edges of a few rain clouds I made it home and began searching for my carefully compiled name list. When that was over, I was welcomed home by my beautiful wife. the end to a perfect day for a Gold Wing rider.