WHATCHATHINKIN'

It has come. Halloween candy has been dispersed, costumes are packed away, the World Series has been decided (so sorry Toronto, you should have won), the heat has started popping on in the morning and evenings, the leaves, at least around Backroads Central, are almost all down so the gutters have been cleaned and driveway somewhat blown clear. But the timeliest (pun intended) is the turning back of the clocks.

It happened this year on the last game of the World Series, which went long, so we hardly noticed. What we did notice was that the next day was going to be a stunning day to ride. When the temperatures are in the mid-60s and the sky is crystal clear in the beginning of November, all should take advantage.

Texts were sent – who wanted to meet for lunch? Where should we meet? What time? The answer came as Van Sant Airport at noon. Brian and I looked at each other and smiled. The friends we would be meeting make it a regular occurrence of meeting at Van Sant, as it is convenient and they have come to know the other riders who frequent the airport scene. It’s an easy ride for them. Our ride is a bit lengthier, albeit a beautiful one, so we put together something a little different from the straight run south on Route 519, piecing together some of the newer roads we have discovered.

Up at 7am, or was that 8, the sun was just peaking over the trees and shining in the bedroom window. With all the windows in our home, we can track the movement of the sunrise, and I know when winter is coming as I am hit with the morning light. Heading out to the bikes, hot coffee in hand, I see the horses who live across the road are already out of their barn, comfortably wearing their blankets to fend off the morning chill. I take their lead and set up my thermostat for my heated gear, knowing that by mid-afternoon it will have warmed up nicely and it won’t be needed.

Our ride to Van Sant is lovely, the muted and mottled foliage still coloring the hillsides, with the more than occasional red trees and bushes accenting the pallet. The nip in the air sneaks into my helmet, just enough to keep my nose a little tingly but very refreshing. Riding through Hope, NJ, we pass a group of Mazda Miatas, enjoying this wonderful day on the New Jersey backroads. A small buck on the side of the road is startled by the Hornet deer avoidance we have on the bikes and leaps back over the fence, darting away. Probably won’t be the last of those we’d see today. 

Van Sant is busy, as usual, on this brilliant Sunday. There are several motorcycles already parked, but more impressive is the gaggle of BMW Minis lining the roadway. Seems to be the day for the car clubs to be out and about. Planes are taking off and landing, with several glider rides going off as well. Our friends arrive, we spend some time catching up and checking out the happenings and then head to lunch. The Narrows in Upper Black Eddy, PA, fits the bill nicely, and we are seated by the slowly-dying embers of the warm fireplace. 

Our ride home, another variation of our usual route, awards us with even more explosion of colors as the afternoon sun is at the perfect golden glow. The vibrant yellows of the hillside overwhelm me, and I think about the shortening of the daylight hours, relishing this day and hoping for more of the same before the inevitable winter of the north sets in.

We pull into the driveway, the setting sun sending its last rays across our backs. We let Spenser T. Cat out to soak up the final hour of warmth. I look to the west and thank the powers that be for this wonderful day spent with Brian and friends doing what we love so much.

Now is the time that we look forward, unlike the clocks which have gone back, and make our plans for the coming of Spring, with the return of the warmth of the sun, and the longer days to enjoy just as we have done today.