Motorcycles Bartenders F-Bombs

Exit 20 into Laconia, THE BIG EVENT, CLUSTERFUCK, the three T’s:  TOURISTS, TEE SHIRTS, AND TRAFFIC. Spent close to A HALF HOUR OF STOP AND GO, between Weirs Beach, and Meredith. Can’t split lanes, cause there’s cops everywhere. Bikes are running hot. Get me the fuck out of here! Went north on I 93 to Lincoln; made eye contact with a black bear that was running on the side of the highway. And I found my way to Mount Washington, where I paid my $15 admission for a rare opportunity: THE MOUNTAIN WAS MOTORCYCLES ONLY. NO CARS, NO TRUCKS…MOTORCYCLES ONLY. This is a spectacular and dangerous mountain road, and the weather was beautiful and clear. The road is narrow and partially dirt above the tree line. There were steep drop offs, narrow, tight curves, and no guard rail. It was first and second gear all the way up. So I took a few pictures at the top and I rode back down, testing my bike on the sharp curves, testing the brakes, whipping her a little hard, downshifting, until I got behind s

In the middle of the day the big doe exploded into my path and things began to happen very quickly. It was a sunny day, mild for November. My wife and I were out for an afternoon on the blue Super glide, tooling along on a straight stretch of two lane at about 50 mph. Warm brown weed fields bordered the highway, the same warm brown as the hide of a deer. The thick trunk of a massive roadside maple hid the furry blur until we were almost upon it, and then it was there in front of me, eyeballs wide with fear, hooves slipping on the asphalt, instinctively, my brakes, front and rear, were locked up tight, and my wife and I were screeching into the unavoidable collision. The front wheel banged her squarely in the left hind quarter and she spun off and brushed my leg as we passed. I managed to control the wobbling front end and scrubbed off the remaining speed to stop in my lane. In my left mirror I saw her skid awkwardly across the road and go down hard in the ditch on the opposite side, al