On The Mark

One thing about Backroads rallies is that we run into people we’ve met at previous rallies and with whom we’ve become familiar, if not close. I call Backroads regulars a “family” and liken the rallies to reunions. It’s a big family: there were at least 50 bikes, some ridden two-up, and a few cars in the parking lot of the Tygart Hotel in Elkins this spring. Like any family, there are people with whom you are closer – brothers and sisters – and those with whom you are familiar, but not as close – cousins. If your extended family is like mine, where mom had seven siblings, the cousins and their children become hard to remember.

Invariably, reunions devolve into closer contacts, with those you know better, and more superficial contact with others. There are warm hugs for some and firm handshakes for others. It’s not a bad or unusual thing for Backroads rallies: some people just normally gravitate together because of their regional connections, riding styles, or culinary desires. There are “The Philly Boys” (not necessarily from Philly), “The Southern Contingent,” and “The Sirens” to name a few. All of it comes about under the loving direction of our Matriarch and Patriarch, from whose loins sprang the Backroads family name.

I get the need for sub-groups because of my “Rule of Sixes,” which says that you neither ride nor dine with a group larger than six people. The former because a group of six is about all you can safely keep together on a ride and the latter because large groups tend to overwhelm any eatery. When you put two “four-top” tables together, you get a “six-top,” not an eight. The other thing that drives the rule is the ability to have a conversation: you usually end up talking with those in easy earshot, so a large table doesn’t offer the chance for serious discourse.

And sometimes you get a personal connection with one or two people, either newcomers or someone you’ve seen at rallies, but with whom you’ve never had the chance to have a deep conversation. Over the years, Betsy and I have had the good fortune to have those kinds of experiences and it has resulted in closer, enrichening relationships. Forgive me if I don’t list you all, because I only have so many words before the Matriarch gets cross, but let me cite a few examples.

At Canaan Valley, a large crew went into the dining room and Betsy and I judged that it would challenge the staff, so we stayed in the bar and ordered a pizza, inviting a tall drink of water with dancing eyes to join us. That was our introduction and start of a great relationship with a guy named Byrd. A fellow curmudgeon who is quick to bust my chops if I exhibit any “brand snobbery,” we have come to know Byrd as a delightful gentleman whose secret is that he enjoys ballroom dancing. I also know his real name, but will not divulge it!

There is a gentleman – in the truest definition of the word – who used to go to dinner by himself at rallies, accompanied by a good book. When he invited us to join him one evening, we were pleased by the request and that is how we got to know Larry. I rode on the track with Larry and I even hired a young man who interned at his company. He is a gentle soul with whom I share the love of our native tongue. He is truly generous and when he had to give up riding, I received some nice accoutrements in the mail.

Lightning struck again, literally and figuratively, at Elkins when a lady named Kate asked Betsy and I if we’d mind her tagging along on a short ride. It was rainy and neither of us fancied a long day in the saddle. I’m glad, because Kate is a delight: a lover of animals and geology who appreciated the timeless forces that created Blackwater Falls, among other features of the Mountain State. She even sent me some articles about glaciers. I hate to think that we never would have become as close if we hadn’t simply shared a short ride – and a state park hotdog lunch at a picnic table.

There are other examples. Be careful, because when you befriend a writer, there is always the danger of becoming a “subject.” I believe that if you take the time to get to know someone, no matter how reserved they are, if you scratch the surface, you’ll find unique and delightful qualities. I like to say, “everyone’s a story.” Sometimes, that story is as close as the people with whom you are acquainted, but whom you don’t really know.