I took a little side trip into Springfield, MS, so I could see the Basketball Hall of Fame.
And yes, all I did was take the picture. I was so far behind schedule that I didn't have time for anything else. Later, if anyone asks me whether or not I made it into the Hall of Fame I'll just say, "No, I wasn't good enough, but I played with a lot of heart."
Back into the nightmare of Massachusetts roads. Again, if people in New England have a reputation for being grouchy, it is because they are forced to drive on these roads. I was excited to get to I-495 north, finally headed again in the right direction, but it was horrible. Think "traffic evacuating Houston before Hurricane Ike" horrible. Three lanes of traffic, stop/start/stop/start, for miles.
Part of the problem is that far too many people flunked how lines are supposed to work back in kindergarten. Politeness and patience could go a long way, and maybe at a steady 30 mph. Alas, original sin refuses to release its death grip on us.
It got a little bit better when I finally got to I-95 and then pretty much great after finally crossing into Maine. Thought about a little side trip to Kennebuntport (or however you spell it) but no one invited me. I was bound and determined to get to Madawaska, if for no other reason than Kelley had called ahead and reserved a room for me at the only motel in town.
As night approached I was actually excited. There was going to be a full moon. I have all of my cold weather stuff along (a lesson learned painfully more than once, NEVER leave home without everything.) And I will be coming back again the same way tomorrow so it doesn't matter what I miss in the dark. As long as I miss all of the moose I could hit in the dark.
When it got dark it got cold. Quickly. Dropped 30 degrees, from the 80's to the 50's. Before I got to Madawaska it was in the 40's. That is Fahrenheit for NORTH DAKOTA JANUARY COLD when you are traveling at 70 mph in the wind. I ended up riding 280 miles in the dark.
From Houlton, ME, to Madawaska is 102 miles. Very slow miles. Never faster than 55. Slowing to 25 in each of the little villages you pass through. Just enough turns to keep you utterly confused. Just enough "Watch for Moose" warning signs that you begin to see a moose behind every shadow in the ditch. Now, for the record, I almost hit a moose in Canada back in 2010. Or more correctly, Mama Moose almost hit me. She jumped across the road in front of me and I literally missed her by a few feet.
So here is what I think of moose: I'll watch for them but I don't think they watch for me. I think they get bored so they bet each other on how close to cars and trucks they can get. I remember the police officers who were members of my first congregation. The only way they could function in their jobs was to adopt kind of a fatalistic "if it is my time, it is my time" approach. I do the same thing.
But I also stayed 10 mph or more below the speed limit. Partly to be careful. And partly because I was so cold that I would have needed to warm up to freeze. I finally pulled into Madawaska around 4:00 AM. I found Martin's Motel. Kelley called ahead and told the lady what I would be late so she just left a key on the front desk for room 15. And here I am.
The plan for Saturday is to take the required picture, get the required gas receipt, and head back to where it is warm out. I would love to find a place where I could get my newly fried oil changed. If I don't get that done today it will have to wait until Tuesday because all Harley shops observe a two day sabbath each week and no one does service on Sunday or Monday. Take that, Chick-a-Fillet!
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