Tag Archive: Summer

laconiaLaconia:  I’ve heard your pipes, I’ve seen your tats, boobs and bellies.  Your piercings and your paint jobs.   May I be excused from Sturgis and Daytona, please?

Seriously though, when we first got to Weir’s Beach, my thought was, this is it?   This is all Laconia and presumably Sturgis and Daytona are about?   White tents with cheap crap?  People jam packed into narrow lanes between vendors and bikes, looking at, being looked at?  See my colors? See my pins? See my scars?  I’m sorry.  I’d really rather be riding.

That was my trip to Laconia.  Now about the rest of the weekend.

We rode up on Friday and about 40 miles outside of town my bike went dark in the middle lane of bumper to bumper traffic on the tollway.  I pushed it across two lanes to the side of the road when an ANG halfback stopped to let me through and conveniently blocked the other lane.  It was an electrical issue that I was sure of, and I hoped if I let it cool off, it would fire up.  Sadly, no.

There I sit leaning on my bike, waiting.  A bus full of little kids goes by, and they all turn down their windows and yell, “Hi! Biker Lady!!”  Ok, that was pretty cool. Then a small car with what is clearly a grandma, a mom, and a little girl goes by, and the little girl calls out, “Hi!”  The grandma says something to the little girl and she turns back and says, “Are you ok?!?”  Yep, I’m fine, and tell your grandma she’s pretty cool too.  Then another car goes by and the little girl leans out the window and says, “Hi, BlackJayne!!” and I wave.  Then the car is in the breakdown lane in front of me and I walk up to the window to say, “Hey, no, it’s all good…” when I look in the window I realize it’s my neighbor. “Hey, how’s it going? Wanna take me into town to buy a battery for my bike?”

How undignified can it get?

The battery seems to fix things, my riding partner shows up after a long complicated set of maneuvers to get back on the tollway below me and headed in the right direction. We get up to Laconia about 5 hours later than we were shooting for.  Go to the bar, grab some food, hit the rack.

Saturday, we checked the bike, seemed to be fine. Start up, run, no funkiness.  For logistical reasons, we take the other bike to Weir’s Beach.  We get a good parking spot, we have a chance to enjoy the scenery.  Five thousand bikes parked on the road, in the boardwalk, at the various lots (some lots up to 5 miles away) at any given time. Another couple thousand give or take, on their way in or on their way out.

Yippee.  Can I go home now?

Sunday we ride the Kancamagus (Cank-uh-MAY-gus) over to North Conway and plan to ride the Daniel Webster Highway back around.  We ride the Kank.  (A really nice ride if you’re ever in the area; car or bike, Winnebago, bicycle you name it. Nice ride.)  Get to North Conway stop for a drink and a stretch. The bike won’t start. Not only dead, but D-E-D dead. Can’t find a new battery. Get a trickle charger from the Harley dealership a mile up the road.

Ok, this part sounds much funnier than it was. We sat in Dunkin’ Donuts for an hour and a half and played cribbage while we charged the battery.  Oh, yeah, living the dream there.

Get the battery back in the bike. She fires right up. We get out on the street and I hear “Puh. Puh, puh-puh. Gasp….” Awesome.  I push it into the Circle K parking lot.  We talk about our options, don’t really like any of them.  Cram all our shit into the other bike, go in and ask the manager politely, “Please do not tow my bike, I promise I will be back for it in the morning.”

We ride back to the hotel, which is about 40 miles away, back over the Kancamagus.  It rains. Hard. The road is still windy-twisty and beautiful. And wet. An hour and a half later, we’re showered, and in the bar again, looking forlornly at the menu which is not in the restaurant where we had planned to eat.

Our best alternative is to rent a truck. We have no vehicle to pull a trailer.  There is no service dealer anywhere within 100 miles, and truly? I want my guy to work on my bike, so I know what my problem is.  Not what some guy with HD plastered on his shirt wants to tell me.  I call work, “Sorry can’t be there tomorrow, I’m busy.”

Monday we get up, we ride the bike crammed full of ALL our stuff now that we’ve checked out, back across the Kancamagus.  Bright sunshine, twisty-windy, fresh air ..…small RV…..  young male moose, trotting across the road.… (Please god, please god, please god… do not let the RV hit the moose, it will mean bad things for all of us, and I have enough bad things going on right now, I’d like not to add a moose to my problems.)  I’m not sure how late it was before he saw the moose, but the moose definitely saw him and was happy to keep on moving before we all got there.

Pick up the truck, which is big enough for both bikes, so we put the one on, drive to get the other. Put the battery back in it (having trickle charged it over night) get it lined up to go up the ramp and in the truck. ….Last chance….  …breathe… fire it up and goose it just enough to keep the ka-pow from starting. Hit the ramp straight and enough speed to get it over the hump at the top. Screech to a stop narrowly avoiding the first bike. “Gasp, puh, puh-puh..” …sigh…  (I go back in the Circle K and tell the nice manager, “I have taken my bike, it has not been stolen, and thank you very much for your consideration of my plight.”)

We drive it all the way back to my guy.  He’s expecting me, having talked to me while I was sitting on the highway, and again as we came into the city. We take both bikes off the back, he keeps mine, the other heads to the U-haul place and I follow in the truck.   We drop the truck off, I pretend I wasn’t driving since I wasn’t on the list.  Something about tickets and suspended licenses and like that.  We again pack the last of our crap into the other bike, and ride back to the house.

I have never been so glad to go to work the day after a long weekend.

In the end, my guy replaced a fried voltage regulator and rewired some accessories that had been put on over the winter.  I really like my guy.

This is a trip I will probably remember for the rest of my life.  But not because I went to Laconia.

The Forever Gate — Isaac Hooke

This Forever Gate
is the first in a series.  It’s a nice, light dystopian tale, if there is such a thing. You’ll find the characters are charming and complex.

Hoodwink, our erstwhile hero, isn’t very heroish, really. He’s a fugitive from what passes for the law, having escaped the guillotine.  (Because using a sword for beheadings is SO barbaric.)  He’s wounded and on the run.  His capital crime is ambiguous at first, but as his motives become clear so do his actions.

A seemingly old man takes him in and the reader discovers that nothing is as it seems in this world.  It’s not wintertime, it’s been winter for a long, long time.  Humans have power, unlimited power, but their not so human overlords subjugate them, shackling them leaving them powerless to protect themselves.

Hoodwink has the opportunity to change the balance of power and while he sees few options in avoiding the executioner, he is more than a little reluctant to take this step.  And quite a step it is.  Having no alternatives and more than enough motivation, he sets out to climb “The Wall”.  Rumored to be insurmountable, he survives the cold and the bleak face of the wall. He reaches the top only to find there is no way down.

The Forever Gate
Herein lies the heart of the story. Every thing that goes before becomes as a dream to Hoodwink. He is confounded in every step and at every turn he is confronted by new obstacles and hazards.Just as Hoodwink thinks, “Further, I cannot go,” I can go no more. This is a story that tells itself and you must follow Hoodwink’s footsteps to learn it.
Isaac is working on the second installment in the Forever Gate series, which he expects will be out in Spring of 2013
Eden — Phil Rossi


Wow. This is a really hard review to write, and it’s essential that I write it. I have to go out and find everything else this guy has written, so I can continue this little mind trip he’s got going on. I can only imagine that Eden is representative of Phil Rossi’s other work. Which means I’ve got a lot of really good sci-fi ahead of me.


Right. But we were talking about Eden. If you liked The Abyss (Ed Harris and whats-r-name), 2001 (HAL and some guy Dave) or Event Horizon (Sam Niell and a bunch of other people), you’ll be wanting to read this (and probably Rossi’s other  books as well.


I can’t really tell you much about the plot. I’ve given you several hints above, and you can always go and read the reviews of other people. It is much more efficient to just Go. Read. The Book.


Eden — Phil Rossi

The only secret I’ll reveal… and it’s not really a secret… not all aliens are little green men (or large and grey, or any other type of anthropomorphic description). Some times they’re more…alien then that.


This was initially e-serialized for Kindle and can now be downloaded in its entirety.or purchased in .dtf (dead tree format) on Amazon. Rossi’s books are also available as podcasts on iTunes and  podiobooks.com. Rossi’s other titles include Crescent, Harvey and Notes from the Vault.  He has contributed to the Tales from the Archives anthology series.


Snap ’em up.