Don’t Judge a Book by its Cover

10

October 13, 2013 – What a fabulous day. Can’t ask for more than this on the Thanksgiving weekend. When we saw what the forecast had in store we decided to cook our turkey on Saturday and spend the rest of the weekend riding.

We lazed around for the morning, someone was supposed to come look at the boat but canned out on us, so we enjoyed a couple of cups of coffee at leisure, and had a breakfast that would see us through a few hours. We wanted to wait until all chance of hitting frost in the shade on the roads we intended to ride would be a memory, so we didn’t leave until 11am. We probably could have gotten away earlier, but it was nice to have a lazy morning.

We weren’t entirely sure where we’d end up, although one leg was definitely Chuckanut Drive. The ride down was chilly, and we both stopped to pull an extra layer on, and then another further on. I could have used one more to be honest, so I wasn’t toasty, but I wasn’t shivering either.

That sun is deceiving at this time of year. It looks fabulous, but it just doesn’t hold the heat it did a month ago, particularly when you are riding a motorcycle and exposed to the air rushing by. It’s easy to get caught off guard by the fall weather. It can be warm in the sun, but then you get into the shade or the sun goes down, and brrrr! Nippy!

We stuck to a well ridden route. Through Blaine, around Drayton Harbour, over Semiahmoo, through Birch Bay. The last time we came through Birch Bay, about a month ago I think, it was still buzzing with tourists and there were numerous boats bobbing at their mooring buoys. But today, in mid-October, the mooring buoys were empty, the boats pulled out for the season. Two men were dragging one of the last aluminum boats up the bank and across the road. Most of the roadside cafe’s were dark, the Open signs turned off. The candy and ice cream shop was shuttered and empty. Birch Bay State Park was quiet, only a few hardy souls on the edge of the beach, one or two late tourists in their motorhomes. No kites in the skies, no children digging sand castles. It’s a season of change, but I enjoy these places better when they are quiet like this.

On through Lummi. I love this strip of road. It’s slow, a low speed limit, and I’ve been tailed by police more than once, so I know better than to race through it… most of the time anyway. Besides, why fly through when the weather is so nice. It’s such a great place to pull over and take a break, and take in the vista of Mount Baker across the water.

From Lummi it was around the harbour and into Bellingham, Fairhaven, and then a pit stop before the purpose of the trip thus far – Chuckanut Drive. Kirk asked if we wanted to stop for a bowl of chowder at either of the Oyster Creek Inn or the Oyster Bar, or if we would rather enjoy a beer and a Breadfarm Chicken Club with curly fries at a sunny picnic table at the Longhorn Saloon in Edison.

Easy choice!

Sunshine on the back patio at the Longhorn it was to be. As usual we would probably be among the only sport riders in a sea of Harleys.

Is it strange that we will ride almost three hours for a road that takes only 20 minutes to run? It’s not like the rest of the ride is boring, there are many nice sections, but Chuckanut is such a lovely stretch of road, particularly if you are lucky enough to get it on a quiet day with light traffic, since passing is unlikely along most of its length.

Traffic wasn’t heavy, and a number of vehicles pulled to the side to let us ride ahead. Something I love about riding down across the border. Something one rarely encounters in the self centred drivers in BC. As always, Chuckanut was a pleasure, made even more fabulous by the yellow trees and dried leaves blowing around in the passing air.

Around that final tight hairpin corner around the Oyster Creek Inn, up towards the Oyster Bar, and down the final few curves to pop out and cross over the tracks and head down the straight stretch toward Bow-Edison Road. A final right hand turn and a short ride into Edison where we pulled in past all the dazzling chromed Harleys and rode around back to park against the fence. Two grizzled looking riders sat out back in the fenced patio area, enjoying their drinks and the remnants of their lunches.

When we pulled off our helmets and one fellow called out to us “Where did you two ride from?”

“Vancouver”

“Oh! You’re Canadians….EH?”

Yeah, ok, chuckle, chuckle.

This fellow was everything you think of, visually, when you think of the Harley rider. He was in his 60’s I’d say, long grey ZZ Top beard, leather vest with a huge circle patch on the back that indicated some motorcycle-club-or-other, black leather chaps, and dark glasses.

But here’s the thing. That’s where the stereotype ended. It’s easy to judge a book by its cover, where people are concerned that is. Although sometimes the stereotypes are real – some sport bike riders are total douchebags who ride like twits and make us all look bad, and some Harley riders like to ride the throttle and pollute the neighbourhood with the most offensive sound imaginable. Its easy to stereotype the entire population of Harley riders as a subpopulation of Hell’s Angels.

But I know that’s not true. I’ve met a great many Harley riders who are incredibly friendly, open, and kind individuals who are just as interested in anyone riding any other type of motorcycle. Yes, there are those riders of every style who put their own ride at the top of the heap and dis’ all others.

But after the initial “ha ha” of this fellow, the conversation turned to everything else. But it did start off in an unexpected manner.

The two of them went into the bar, and when they came back out they stopped by us and asked “I don’t suppose either of you might have a hit of pot on you?”

I’ve been asked for cigarettes, or a lighter before – and I’ve always wondered why. What does a smoker look like? Because I’ve never smoked a cigarette in my life.

But did we just get stereotyped in return?

Canadian, from BC, Vancouver to be exact, thus we must be pot smokers and surely must have some with us?

Yeah, that’d be a good way to lose a Nexus Pass!

When we said “no” they genuinely seemed surprised. When we said that’d be a foolish thing to cross the border with, Longbeard looked surprised and said “But it’s legal here, isn’t it there?”

“No, just largely ignored.”

“Do you mean to say that we, here in America, are MORE liberal than Canada?”

“In this respect, yes.”

“But why?”

“Presumably because they are trying to figure out how to tax it.”

“Ah, yes, that makes sense, you are Canadian… taxes, right…”

Well, we do fit that stereotype I suppose.

From there his questions turned to gay marriage and his shock that not all Provinces were on board with it.

It was a fascinating conversation, really only made fascinating because I was having such a fabulous time with the fact that this fellow, who looked like every stereotype you could ever throw at a person, was so NOT what he looked like. He was from California, living outside Seattle. I shouldn’t have been surprised really, everyone in this area is so closely matched with the attitude in BC. The Pacific coast has its own “type” and it’s great.

Shortly before they left, a guy parked a 4runner next to their bikes, hopped the fence, and stopped to make sure they didn’t feel he was too close to their rides. Pleasantries all around, and he went inside. It was obvious he was a rider, and when he re-emerged with a smoke and a beer, I knew I recognized him, in fact I was pretty sure we’d spoken before.

The two riders took their leave it was with a friendly farewell and mutual wishes to stay safe on the road. And they were off in a gentle roar.

Kirk went inside to pay for lunch and the 4runner driver walked by, heading to his truck, and I said to him “Don’t you usually ride a bike?” He looked surprised and said “Yes, but today is laundry day, and I’m missing a great day.”

He asked how I knew, and I said I recognized him. He laughed and said “That shaved head?” No, it was everything. The fact that he’d been concerned with the bikes identified him as a rider, I recalled him hopping the fence when he’d ridden in the back on several occasions, I remembered him always just having a beer and a smoke. . . and yes, the shaved head. I remembered that he rode a black bike, but couldn’t recall what. A CBR. When Kirk came out and we chatted more, he remembered us, he remembered the bikes.Not a lot of sport bikes are usually parked at that establishment.

Again, don’t judge a book by the cover.

He was an intelligent, kind, thoughtful guy. He asked where we were from and when he heard Vancouver, he was surprised that we would come to the US to ride. When he heard that I like to ride in the US because drivers are more considerate of riders and pay more attention, he said he hated to compartmentalize people, but he’d noticed that BC drivers drove with a single minded purpose, like lemmings, to Costco, when they crossed the border. BC really does have terrible drivers.

For example, when I was driving home from Chehalis on Friday I was behind a line of about 10-12 cars in a single lane. When the lane opened up to two, every single car ahead of me. . . every, single, one! Went into the left hand lane!! And I passed them all in the right hand lane. Idiots!

We had thought we might ride up Baker, but after seeing that Artist’s Point was closed for the season, I figured if not snow, it would certainly be cold up there. So we opted to stay on the sunny side and mostly retrace our ride back up Chuckanut and try to stay warm and get home by dark.

It was a relatively uneventful ride home, mostly nice except for the woman who absolutely, steadfastly, refused to pull off for the traffic behind her. Even though a half dozen cars ahead of her, and us, did so. Instead she raced forward in the straight stretches, and braked alarmingly and randomly well before any corners arrived. To say she was irritating to be behind was an understatement. And the police car that tailed us halfway through and out of Lummi was an annoyance, since we actually had to do the speed limit for a horrible length of time 😉

All in all, what a fabulous day on the bikes, 325km, and considering the time of year, even more awesome.