After a delicious casual breakfast with Jeanine, her husband Chris, and the not-so-fierce pit-bull Bagger, we packed up our gear and rode out well fed and enriched with friendship and a new communication system. We were headed to Plainville near Boston, the belly of the beast. Boston, the cultural and financial center of New England, is also the hub of bad, arrogant, and sometimes dangerous driving. Boston people are lovely and will give you the shirt off their back when they are not in their car. When they are in their car, they will give you the finger and colorfully phrased guidance on how you should be driving. The new intercom quelled some of, but not all my anxiety about riding among them in that maelstrom.
My next gig was at An Unlikely Story Bookstore, owned by Jeff Kinney, author of the very successful series and media franchise, Diary of a Wimpy Kid. Steering clear of the I-95 corridor, we rode Class Two highways for as much of the 140-mile trip as we could, but as we got closer to the hotel where we’d stay that night we encountered the inevitable fast, heavy, bossy Boston traffic.
Our bikes are maneuverable, and we stayed close together, but merging onto Route 1A, just off Interstate 495, Boston’s circumferential nightmare, feels more terrifying than merging onto an interstate. The traffic whizzes by but there are no on-ramps where one can gain the speed of the traffic flow. The BMW 650 GS, the marque we ride, is famous for reliability, on- and off-road adventure, and long distances, not acceleration. Acceleration on my bike is more of a team effort of optimism, throttle, and good intentions. Though my heart was in my ears most of the ride, we arrived on time at our hotel without incident.