March 2026

WHAT’S INSIDE

BACKROADS (ISSN 1087-2088) is published monthly by BACKROADS™, Inc. 2026. All rights reserved. BACKROADS™ may not be reproduced in any manner without specific written consent from the publisher. BACKROADS™ welcomes and encourages submissions (text and photos) and suggestions. Include phone number with submissions. BACKROADS™ will only return material with enclosed sufficient postage. The written articles and opinions printed in BACKROADS™ are not necessarily those of the publisher and should not be considered an endorsement. The Rip &Rides® published are ridden on the sole responsibility of the rider. BACKROADS™ is not responsible for the conditions of the public roadways traversed. Please respect the environment, read your owner’s manual and wear proper protective gear and helmet. Ride within your limits, not over them.

FREE WHEELIN’ BRIAN RATHJEN

Snowbound

Snowbound…

Let’s sleep in today. Wake me up. When the wolves come out to play.

~ Donald Fagen

Between Christmas and New Year’s, we had a semi-formidable snow/ice event.

This was the fourth such stormy yuckiness that had come our way in December. One of the early ones seemed hardly worth any effort, but a warm afternoon that morphed into a 10-degree night turned our long driveway into a slushy-ice monster. It was even difficult moving the Durango around in a crunchy slide, as we came and went.

A few days of warm rain brought us some relief, and I got the GS out for a longish ride, just because I could.

These are desperate times, my friends.

It had been a long while since I rode to one of the stops of the Polar Bear Grand Tour – a superb wintery event that runs through the dark season – and one of the weekly stops would be right along Harriman State Park, a couple of hours ride from Backroads Central.

I began to form a plan.

A few days later, it snowed again – the aforementioned snow/ ice event.

Not to be denied at least a chance at a ride, I was up and out after the second cup of coffee.

My Aerostich, which usually slips on like Spider-Man’s suit, fought me as I had to convince it to go on. The armor and material were ice cold and frozen as they were hanging out in the unheated barn.

I eventually got on the suit, and Hedz, gloves, boots, and I was ready to play with an internal combustion-powered machine. Much like Mr. Wiggin’s residential block that had a conveyor belt leading to a soundproofed section with rotating knives, this machine worked with rotating blades as well; and, best of all, it had an electric starter. Electric starters made motorcycles available to so many, especially women. It was a game-changer, and so was the electric start on my Arien 28. Firing up the 254cc, fuel-injected engine, I let it idle and warm up to the task at hand. Get your motor runnin’, and head out on the driveway.

Those two large spinning blades feed the second-stage impeller, and throttling up the beast, its dual belt power has enough torque to throw 70 tons of snow in one hour.

Okay, it was not a motorcycle, but it was self-propelled, with 6 forward and 2 reverse speeds, and auto-turn steering provided precise steering of the 16-inch wheels, like my old Ninja 600, and lights for snow blowin’ after midnight – me and Patsy Cline’s go-to choice.

Best of all, it’s orange and matches my Roadcrafter suit nicely, as it is important to look good to the neighbors and the Continued on Page 6

WHATCHATHINKIN’

Late diStance

15 hours of sunlight. That’s what we’ll see on June 21, 2026 during the summer solstice in the northern hemisphere. Almost twice as much as December 21, 2025 on the winter solstice, when the thermometer registered in the mid 20s.

Looking out the window at 7am on January 30, the sun’s red glow glistens over the stark white snow which seems to go on forever. Oh, how I long for those early starts, as the sun makes its way over the horizon, bathing the motorcycles in its golden glow and beginning a long day’s summer journey of exploration and adventure, riding into the twilight hours.

I remember several trips where we had ‘miles to go before we slept’ that began, not at the early morning hours, but much later in the afternoon. Thankfully, we also had miles of sun before the dark, although summer riding when the moon and stars are your company is heavenly. This we did on our trip to Newfoundland, as we came off the ferry at night and rode towards our hotel with a full moon for accompaniment. Absolutely stunning. But this is about late distances. Those rides that begin when many others are checking into their hotels or pulling into their garages. Depending on what has gone on during the morning and afternoon hours of your day, these rides can either be a hard push or something that brings an unexpected joy to your life. We have encountered both. 17 years ago, in early May, we were celebrating my mother’s 80th birthday. It was a wonderful celebration filled with family, friends, laughter and love, held in Demarest, NJ. Brian and I had already planned on a southern trip,

heading to West Virginia to do some exploring. Thus we came to the party via motorcycles, with party clothes neatly concealed under Aerostich suits. It was well into the afternoon hours by the time the cake was cut and goodbyes were said and, with still a good amount of daylight, we took our leave for an almost 300 mile ride to Berkeley Springs, WV. We had reservations at a cute little cottage next to the Country Inn, and finally pulled in to the drive with just enough time to dump our riding gear and grab a bite before the town shut down. I would put this in the hard push category. Moving forward to the autumn of 2016, there were many options offered us for a late riding season sojourn. The one we chose, riding with BMW then scooting south for oysters and west to join CLASS at Virginia International Raceway, got SNAFU’d by Hurricane Matthew. Always paying attention to the alphabet, we quickly went down the list and landed on Plan F, for fun, and headed west.

After a chilly start through Pennsylvania, we found ourselves in Charleston WV, at J.Q. Dickinson Salt Works. They are the purveyors of salt, which started its life some 400 million years ago when the region was under an ancient sea, and we took a tour showing us the ins and outs of how salt is harvested. By the time we were saddling back up, we were on the downward side of the sun with 180 miles to go to Wytheville, Virginia. We fueled up, dialed on the electrics and hunkered down to

Continued on Page 6

ON THE MARK

Moto caMping with doug I don’t camp anymore. When Betsy and I go somewhere, there just isn’t room on the moto for a tent and the other accoutrements. It also may have something to do with the fact that I’m 63 and spending time behind the “Nylon Curtain” doesn’t have nearly the appeal it once did. The last time I went moto camping was at the behest of my friend Doug, a professional photojournalist with a well-used Versys. We met near his Virginia home, not far from “Mount Weather,” a government installation surrounded by more fences than all the feedlots in Texas. It was the least desirable combination of October, cold, and cloudy. Doug led me on a merry chase on roads as familiar to him as his hands. Southeast of Strasburg, we turned down a road that winds between the Little Creek and Green Mountains, the brilliant VA 678, Fort Valley Road. Our home for the night was the Elizabeth Furnace campground. The web site for the campground clearly states there is no firewood available, something we’d come to regret.

Owing to the season and the temperature, we had our pick of sites and we chose one not far from the creek and quickly set up our tents (there was no way either of us wanted any part of the other’s nocturnal noises). I set up my stove while Doug pulled out a hunting knife with a great patina of use, several kinds of cheese, meat, and some crackers and created a delicious picnic-table charcuterie board. He produced a bottle of Green Spot Irish Whiskey, which went well with the cheese and crackers. Even though that’s technically a party foul at the campground, it wasn’t like there was anyone around to care… We passed a comfortable afternoon. I brewed some tea and Doug fiddled with his Nikon. We talked about any number of things, just two old guys passing time and enjoying the fall day around the campsite. I foraged for wood and since cutting was strictly verboten and none was for sale, the local area had been fairly well stripped of deadfall. I did manage to find a few branches and, using my head, I scoured the other campsites and came up with some leftovers, plus a partial bottle of torch oil. The latter made starting the fire much easier.

As afternoon became evening, the sun quickly went behind Green Mountain and the temperature fell accordingly. We moved our camp chairs as close to the small fire as possible, sipped some more Green Spot, and talked some. I say some because the male of the species is perfectly capable of

Continued on Page 6

Free wheeLin’

Continued from Page 3 horses when blowing snow. It even has flames, Backroads logos, and pinstriping (all applied on a hot summer night, with a bottle of red wine, and WXPN blasting through the barn) Also, men of my age seem to drop like flies playing with snow, and if that happened, I’d hope the bright and conspicuous Aerostich suit laying in the snow with a man inside might grab some passing driver’s attention.

Although I had much faith that the roads would be clear and rideable in another 24 hours, I was hoping that quick and early attacking of the snow/ iced driveway would offer me the same, with an easy road out and back. Well, at least clear enough to get out onto the road.

The next day, the driveway was still a mean task, if doable at all on a bike, and the 20-degree ride would chill any rider, even with today’s heated riding gear. I made an Adult Decision, something that happens more and more since becoming a grandfather; I’d just take the Durango, and bringing that would ensure my bride would come along too, as Shira was none too keen on a motorcycle this day. I threw a couple of bundles of the latest Backroads in the back, and we jumbled down the slick drive to the clear, if still icy, county road. If anything, it was a pretty morning, with ice hanging off the branches and turning swampy cattails into cotton. Heading down through Ringwood, I began to have this gnawing and bad feeling. Usually, as you get closer to the Polar Bear gathering, there will be a few motorcycles that will cross your path.

This day…Nada.

Pulling into Cooper’s in Sloatsburg, I knocked on the closed door and was told by a woman that the Polar Bears would be meeting just a tad north at another place called Characters. We headed there, to be told they knew nothing about it. A quick, if a couple of hours late, check of the Polar Bear’s website saw that this day’s ride was cancelled. Cancelled? Oh, gee… time for Plan B, and breakfast at Dottie Audrey’s was fantastic. Looking back on it all, perhaps I should have listened to Fagen … maybe we should have slept in this day. ,

on the Mark

Continued from Page 5

staring into the fire for hours without saying a word and still considers it successful companionship, sometimes even admirably so. After a while, I made us Jiffy Pop and we shared it with a beer or maybe another Green Spot – that point is a little hazy.

We turned in early, fueled by thoughts of a nice, warm down sleeping bag and the decided lack of fuel for the small, ineffective campfire we could afford with our meager wood supply. There was the usual bedtime banter between two guys, saying “Goodnight, John-Boy” and “Goodnight Mariellen” (lines stolen from “The Waltons” for you younger folk). Soon each of us was alone with his pre-sleep thoughts. There was no cell-phone bullshit, as Fort Valley was effectively shielded by the mountains at that point, just the sound of Passage Creek, the wind in the trees, and our inner voices. Unsurprisingly, we awoke to a cold day. Doug shot a photo of me emerging from my tent, hair akimbo and sticking out from under a watch cap, glasses

whatchathinkin’

Continued from Page 4 our ride. Truthfully, we flew through the rolling hills and deep valleys of West Virginia, eating up the mils at a rapid and fun pace. Route 10 was an incredible roller coaster and Route 598 above Bluefield had the most wonderful views. But the sun was heading west and the late afternoon sun in October gets eaten up quickly. We got to the Bolling Wilson Hotel, our very first stay there, in time for a lovely cocktail on their rooftop bar.

The latest late distance encounter was the summer of 2022. We were on the west coast, gathering up the major league baseball stadiums in California. We had gone up the coast, from Angel Stadium in Anaheim to Oracle Stadium in San Francisco and were on our way back down the coast. Our plan was to leave San Leandro, where the Oakland A’s once called home, and stay in the same Motel 6 in Monterey as we did on the way up. Unfortunately, the Monterey Car Show had eaten up all the rooms. During the early evening golden hour of the summer, I took to my phone and travel apps to see what was around and came up with a great hotel room in Coalinga, CA. It looked like it was not too far and, when I told Brian, he plugged it into the GPS and informed me it was 150 miles back up the road and east over the mountains heading towards Death Valley. Guess I was looking at the crow flying there. After the first part of the haul doing some lane-splitting, the road opened up and we were able to set a wondrous pace. The smell of grass warmed by the summer sun and the resplendent undulating hills made for a magical ride. We rolled into the hotel as the last rays of the sun flitted away and the wide-open high desert sky gave way to the Milky Way. The unexpected joys of life – check. ,

on, grinning. Nearby, an eagle perched in a treetop above the creek and was expertly photographed. We considered making a breakfast of instant oatmeal, but said, “Screw this: we’re going into TOWN.” We hastily broke camp and headed to a small diner Doug knew in Strasburg. We fortified ourselves with diner comfort food, then reluctantly went our separate ways.

I vividly remember this trip and chose to write about it because last fall, Doug was diagnosed with Stage 4, metastatic, esophageal cancer. He’s been undergoing chemo and while it appears to be working, there’s just no certainty for his future. For me, one thing is for damn sure: despite my 63 years, if he wants to go camping – in Fort Valley or anywhere – I will gladly go. We’ll sit by a meager fire and sip Green Spot Irish Whiskey and talk or just stare silently into the flames, living in the moment, because who knows how many moments any of us has left. ,

BACKLASH Letters to the Editor

Thanks Brian and Shira..

Needed some two wheel reminiscing this week.. and as I’m fortunate to also receive Backroads immediately upon production via email attachment, I still struggle a bit capturing the entity of stories digitally as opposed to the decades of tactile experience turning pages ( of which I’m told it’s because I’m the old(er) generation ). Nonetheless it cleared the mind of distractions for a while. Sorry to see that Erich von Daniken passed.. I loved the theories and remember reading his book Chariots of the Gods when I was 14… still intriguing! No one has yet to prove it wrong! Stay warm, safe and healthy..

Best,

Roy O

Just getting back from the Mecum Motorcycle Auction and the new issue of Backroads had arrived. Shira and Brian do an amazing job with this magazine! If you plan on doing any rides back east you must pick up a copy! They have great rides and places to stay and maybe enjoy an adult beverage at night. Hope all have a great week.

Jon Rall

Brian/Shira -

Just wanted to thank you for sending me a replacement of the January issue that was never delivered by the post office. The replacement came today along with my February issue so I have lots of reading material for the next few days.

As I’ve said in the past, I love this magazine. It’s provided me with the opportunity to add countless miles, smiles, dining and ice cream to my life. Thanks Again,

Frank J Matullo

Just read the article on Agloe in the last edition. Got me thinking that Agloe might be a modern day Brigadoon. Popping up every 100 years then fading away after 24 hours with those who enter being part of the town until it resurfaces. Maybe the town is populated my motorcycle riders waiting to explore ice cream shops and mysterious hidden locations before having to return to Agloe before its century slumber.

John Ciribassi

Brian and Shira,

Thank you for the Blind Spot Mirror review in the December 2025 issue. I’ve been wrapped up with so many projects that I’ve been less than diligent in thanking you. I appreciate all you have done above and beyond the norm to help this project.

I will not forget your efforts.

All the best for a safe and wonderful 2026,

Chuck Saunders - Saeng

OGRI THE BIKER HERO CREATOR PASSES

Aul Sample, the genius behind biking’s most famous cartoon character, Ogri, who graced the British motomag BIKEfor 35 years, has died at the age of 78.

With its distinctive style, intricate detail (each strip took a week to draw), wry sub-plots and extended family of characters including sidekick Malcolm, girlfriend Mitzi and Kickstart the dog, it became hugely popular. While Norvin-riding Ogri was the hero, it was hapless Malcolm that many identified with most. Ogri’s popularity spawned a series of collected volumes, T-shirts and giftware. There were plans for a TV series and, when briefly dropped in the 1980s, BIKE’s readership were up in arms about the decision.

Ogri remained in BIKE until 2009 and when Sample auctioned his archive in 2010 in preparation for retirement in 2013, his collection of artwork raised over £55,000.

He passed peacefully, surrounded by his family, on January 27.

POLARIS SELLS INDIAN MOTORCYCLE COMPANY

Indian Motorcycle, America’s First Motorcycle Company, announced that Carolwood LP, a Private-Equity Firm, has officially closed its agreement with Polaris to acquire the historic American motorcycle business. The deal’s closure marks the beginning of a dynamic new era for the iconic American brand as a fully independent business focused solely on motorcycles.

Under the leadership of new CEO and motorcycle-industry veteran, Mike Kennedy, Indian Motorcycle embarks on its next chapter as a stand-alone company, intent on building upon the brand’s significant momentum and elevating it to an even higher level of global relevance and success. 2026 marks the 125thAnniversary of Indian Motorcycle, a milestone that only increases the timeliness and significance of this historic transition.

“It’s an incredible honor to take the helm of Indian Motorcycle as it celebrates its 125th Anniversary, empowered by a sense of gratitude and opportunity, and the support and ambition of a well-resourced, highly motivated ownership team,” said Kennedy, CEO for the Indian Motorcycle Company. “2026 will be a special year to honor our history, but more importantly, to drive the brand into the future with a renewed level of commitment, focus and clarity that can only be found as a stand-alone company.”

Indian Motorcycle will base all manufacturing out of the company’s existing facilities in Spirit Lake, Iowa, and Monticello, Minn., while continuing its design and development out of its existing research and developmentcenters in Burgdorf, Switzerland and Wyoming, MN.

WEDDING CRASH!

Following up on an Industry Infobite from last month, Drug-Kingpin Ryan Wedding, 44, a Canadian former Olympic snowboarder now accused of running a vast cartel-linked cocaine pipeline, was captured in Mexico last month after years of allegedly hiding out under the protection of the Sinaloa Cartel. He was on the FBI’s ten Most Wanted list.

FBI Director Kash Patel stated that the bureau’s Hostage Rescue Team “executed with precision, discipline, and total professionalism alongside our Mexican partners to bring Ryan James Wedding back to face justice.” Mexican authorities raided four properties linked to Wedding last month in and around Mexico City. Officials said items seized included drugs, Canadian snowboarding medals, artwork and $40 million US worth of motorcycles. But not just any motorcycles – one-off, off the chart machines. MotoGP and World Superbike motorcycles. Bikes that may have been ridden by Rossi, Marquez and others. Machines that never should have been to have been bought and hidden in a Mexican warehouse by Wedding Wedding’s alleged second-in-command, fellow Canadian Andrew Clark, was captured last year by heavily-armed Mexican security forces in an operation also involving Interpol, Clark was later “let out on bail … somewhat inexplicably,” then U.S. federal prosecutor Joseph McNally said last year. Clark, who went by the alias “Dictator,” was ultimately arrested again in Mexico and transferred to U.S. custody.

Who would think that two bad and very un-Canadian-like men would be captured in Mexico, by an American of Indian descent?

MORE WEDDING NEWS • BEZZECCHI MARRIES HIS BIKE?

Marco Bezzecchi has signed a new multi-year contract with Aprilia ahead of the opening MotoGP pre-season test at Sepang…. He was wearing a tuxedo leather suit. Don’t that beat all?

This marriage, however, is not infinite. The arrangement is for two year – at least for now.

“I’m extremely happy to have renewed for another two years,” said Bezzecchi, who joined Aprilia from Ducati satellite VR46 in 2025.

The wedding comes after the 2025 season finale at Valencia where Bezzecchi got down on one knee and proposed to his RS-GP, signaling his intention to continue with the Italian marque.

Now Bezzecchi and Aprilia have formalized their union.

“From the first day I signed, I had the goal in mind of building a long-term project. I’m happy to have found the support of the entire team and the whole Noale factory.

“I hope I’ll be able to give them a lot of joy, as they most certainly will with me.”

The Final Provision of the Pre-Nup states:

Marco declares his knowledge of Albarosa’s every particularity, including engine maps and character during braking and acceleration. Alabarosa declares her acceptance of Marco’s riding, acknowledging his leaning skill, sensitivity with the front end, and attitude of never letting up on the gas. ,

A riddle:

NATIONAL CYCLE VSTREAM WINDSCREENS

I move very fast but I don’t have feet. You can hear me but not from my mouth. I can bring down a building yet I’m not a machine. What am I? ~ Wind.

Wind has been the foil of motorcycle riders for a century, and the art of aerodynamics is a science in itself, and controlling the wind has led to breakthroughs in flight, travel, and safety.

The utility of the wind tunnel is obvious today, but it was not the first aerodynamic test device. Early experimenters realized that they needed a machine to replace nature’s capricious winds with a steady, controllable flow of air. They recognized as Leonardo da Vinci and Isaac Newton had before them, that they could either move their test model through the air at the required velocity or they could blow the air past a stationary model. Both approaches were employed in the early days of aeronautics.

The simplest and cheapest contrivance for moving models at high speeds was the whirling arm sort of aeronautical centrifuge. Benjamin Robins (1707-1751), a brilliant English mathematician, was the first to employ a whirling arm. His first machine had an arm 4 feet long. Spun by a falling weight acting on a pulley and spindle arrangement, the arm tip reached velocities of only a few feet per second.

Today things are far more advanced, and the engineers at National Cycle make great use of today’s tech. National Cycle’s VStream Windscreens have turned the motorcycle windscreen world upside down – literally! The patented, unique inverted “V” profile creates a quiet and comfortable riding experience unequalled by any windscreen on the market. If you’re looking for a cruising/touring windscreen that WORKS... look no further than National Cycle’s VStream!

The typical airflow pattern of the wake from most windscreens is called a van Karman vortex. At speeds of 50-90 mph, the air swirls off the windscreen in an approximate 90-degree segment of rotation, hits the bottom of the rider’s neck on the way up, and curves off the shoulder at approximately 45 degrees.

National Cycle gave the VStream its name for the shape it takes at the upper edge. The patented “V”

shape is so quiet because it pushes this vortex out and away from the side of the rider’s head. The rider’s helmet then resides in still air, and the passenger’s environment is greatly improved as well.

We fitted a VStream Windscreen to our Suzuki V-Strom 650.

The stock shield did absolutely nothing, and in some conditions worse than nothing.

Our shield came in a dark smoke, that added to the looks of the yellow, black & gray Suzuki; and installation was relatively easy and the screen allowed for height adjustment depending on the rider’s preference.

The windscreen itself is made from a 4.5-thick Lexan polycarbonate that is 23x stronger than simple acrylic with an FMR hard-coating to prevent scratches.

The unique, patented “V” shape of the VStream windscreen, coupled with its greater height and width, pushes the wind vortex out and away from the rider’s head, resulting in a peaceful, quiet riding environment. The passenger’s comfort is improved as well.

These screens are available for a variety of machines and generally start from around $150 and up depending upon the application.

Check their website at www.nationalcycle.com for more information. ,

Wanamakers General Store presents GREAT ALL AMERICAN DINER RUN

knotty pine pub

242 eunion turnpike, wharton, nJ 07885

973-361-3879 • www.facebook.com/kppnj/about/

Early in the predawn hours of a chilly December morn in 2024, just as the rush hour traffic was beginning to build, a New Jersey State Trooper was heading east near exit 34 in Wharton, New Jersey, on Interstate 80, near the confluence of Route 15, when he noticed something very odd happening along the side of the highway. He stopped to investigate, and things began to happen fast. When road crews arrived to investigate and began to drill for samples, the roadway gave way and a huge sink hole opened up.

Morris County has hundreds of abandoned iron mines dating back to the 18th and 19th centuries. The municipality of Mine Hill gets its name from this history, and Rockaway Township uses an anvil in its emblem.

The quick action by the trooper and road crews prevented any cars from disappearing, but this was the beginning of a spate of sinkholes that would plague this section of I-80 for the next few months.

With the Interstate closed in both directions, and the nearly 130,000 vehicles that pass this way each day forced into slow detours, this part of Jersey was totally FUBAR’d and was in for a lot of hurt economically.

It was not until late spring that all the repairs we made (for now), and things began to almost be normal here. We were ridREing down through this region, it was lunch time, and the local diner, which had been there since we could remember, was now just an abandoned luncheonette; a victim of the sinkhole.

With businesses closed, gone away forever, some struggled, and some were given a bit of leeway with small signage to keep customers coming. Thankfully, almost a year later, some of these small signs are still in place,

tasty places to take your bike

and we found one at the light of the busy intersection, a stone’s throw from the repaired sink hole, that simply said, “Knotty Pine Pub – Best Food on the Block!” Shira pointed it out and asked, “The whole block?” We sometimes live for discoveries like this. We made a quick judge of the traffic and cut across stopped traffic to the turning lane and followed a few other signs… that brought us back in time. Notched between far more modern architecture, and barely visible off the main roads, we found KPP.

The big federal highway, I-80, crosses 68 miles from the George Washington Bridge in the east to Delaware Water Gap in the west, and although construction began in 1959, it was not until November of 1973 that the final sections through Morris and Warren County, and the entire road was open from river to river. Before that, local roads carried riders across the western part of the state. Pubs and inns were sprinkled about these, but most have long since vanished… but not

the Knotty Pine Pub. Opened in 1937, the tavern, which is still in its original building. It looks like it – but that is a good thing.

Strolling in, we discovered a place with a very local feel, as the bar was packed in the early afternoon, with a happy, friendly, and welcoming vibe. We took a table while we soaked in the ambiance. Knotty pine is the perfect name as the entire place seems built from the conifer, with local town fire department plates lined above the bar, and police and fire department patches from around the state and nation adorning the far wall.

Hand-cut license plate signs showed the pub’s allegiance to one particular ball team – and it wasn’t pinstripes or red. This is in no way reflected in this article. Well, not terribly much anyway. LFGM.

The waitress, Katie, dropped off some menus, and Shira mentioned how we followed the signs in. That brought the owner, Jim Hill, over to chat a bit. Jim bought the place back in 1997, and in addition to a great bar menu and a faithful local crowd, he has tried to keep KPP with that old tavern feel. Unlike every other place you will find in Strip Mall America, here at KPP it is much like it was before the interstate.

The place is known for its wings, and we can attest they do a super job, and offer a number of different versions –honey garlic, Bloody Mary, motor oil, BBQ, salt & vinegar, and their signature KPP-style, which were awesome, as was the burger with Swiss, bacon, and mushrooms that we split. They even served it all up, already cut and ready for the sharing – a nice, and unexpected touch.

The menu also carries corned beef, or pastrami & Swiss, Taylor ham & cheese, turkey BLT, and Reuben and Rachel, as well as a bunch of burgers. Daily specials were up on a backlit sign above the bar. This day, KPP was out of their ‘Motor Oil’ sauce, and a return trip is in order just to find out what that is all about. Then there is the ghost. Of course, it has a ghost – all the cool places that have had four generations of customers, with walls that have more than likely seen some “interesting’ events, surely have a ghost or two.

According to Jim, there is a phantom of a thin man that appears near the bar and dart board, and many patrons and staff have heard odd noises – thumping, unexplained whistling. The basement is particularly spooky, but when are they not? Electronic Voice Phenomenon has been captured in the bar, and even Hill’s daughter claims to have seen an apparition. We love it.

The Knotty Pine Pub is an odd one for the Great All-American Diner Run. We like to have a combination of things –location, roads, and food. This old place is surrounded by crowded and busy suburban sprawl America – but inside is still feels like it would take, not a couple of hours, but all day to cross the state.

But fear not, kids… we have an 80-mile route for you to KPP, from the State Line Lookout, along the Hudson’s Palisades, that will make it worth the ride. Ride safe. Ride Smart. Ride the Backroads. , Download .gpx file here: www.sendspace.com/pro/dl/fncj9k

Warren County Tourism presents BIG CITY GETAWAY

worLd erotic art MuSeuM 1205 waShington ave, MiaMi beach, FLorida 33139 305-532-9336 • www.weam.com

Here at the Big City Getaway we strive to bring you the most interesting, unusual, and historical places and locals.

This month we might be taking a big dive into the pool of art, and one particular flavor of said art. Erotica.

The Beatles sang all we need is love and the definition of Erotica is literature or art dealing with sexual love and the acts that go with it. Okay, if you are a bit Victorian, shy, or uncomfortable with all this you might want to skip this and head to Seymour’s column.

Years ago we hiked down into a cave atop a mountain in the jungles of the Dominican Republic. Here we were told would be cave art from prehistoric times – and our flashlights found it easily. What did they paint on the walls back when mammoths still walked? Sex. What else? Birds do it, bees do it.

In truth, when we were strolling around the World Erotic Art Museum Shira asked how we’d ever get some of these images into Backroads – a usually G-rated sort of publication.

Okay, PG on a good day!

My thought was turned to an old Latin phrase: “Caedite eos. Novit enim Dominus qui sunt eius.” And, we all know what that means, right?

daytrip ideas to get out of the daily grind

Let us just say there would be a good deal of editing and discussion this time, and watch us dance lightly on our nouns, verbs, and adjectives here.

But have you ever gone to any museum of note and NOT seen a nude?

Right, and here at the World Erotic Art Museum there are a lot of nudes –so don’t be a prude.

What? Do you think your nice Jewish grandmother would not approve? Well, let us introduce you to Naomi Wilzig.

Some years ago Wilzig thought her doctor, an Orthodox Jew, would criticize her for her growing hobby of collecting erotic art. The doctor’s response to her unique passion? (Read with a NY accent, please) “Whatever makes you get up and go each day, and is a challenge for your life, and gives you an interest, is what keeps you healthy and young.”

So, in 2005 Naomi founded WEAM - the only museum in the United States devoted exclusively to fine erotic art. In a remarkably short time for a still private collection, WEAM has developed one of the world’s most renowned permanent museums for this genre.

Today the WEAM Collection includes over 4000 works of international art, ranging from 300 BCE to the immediate present. In terms of its quality, diversity, and incomparable profile of erotic art, the WEAM stands out clearly from other museum collections.

Alongside its mission to familiarize the general public with erotic art, WEAM’S other prime objective is the ongoing expansion of its collection.

They collect, preserve and present works of erotic art of the highest quality from diverse cultures, and they embrace their mission to engage and educate our community, to contribute to the cultural knowledge of erotic art in history.

This all being said, what we thought would be a quick visit stretched into a few hours – just like any good and interesting museum should.

The museum’s collection spans a few floors and some of the exhibits are hard not to examine in detail.

Unapologetic and uncanny, the museum welcomes guests to its most dynamic exhibition to date, with four different shows that celebrate individuality and address the sensual nature of the human being through both contemporary and historic lenses.

When we visited, some of the exhibits

were The Great Wall of Vulva by Jamie McCartney, Quarantine Nudes by Kevin Berlin, and two exhibi tions by the Kinsey Institute, featuring artists Emilio Sanchez and Austin Osman Spare.

Yes, an entire wall full of women’s bits.

But at each turn, we would find something else from all over the world, time and style as well.

Erotic art from Africa, Indigenous Art from the Americas, the famed Lady Godiva, Leda and the Swan, great American pin-ups, prints, and arti facts from near and far. Gay art, hidden art, and humorous art too…

Does Disney know about this?

WEAM is celebrating their 20th season in 2026 with some wonderful upcoming exhib its. The World Erotic Art Museum may not be for everybody, but it is a fascinating museum for sure – just watch what you post on FaceBook. ,

egopantiS: ShirLey, you can’t be SeriouS MythicaLcreatureSandcryptidS

From Bigfoot to the Loch Ness Monster, Mothman to the Skunkape there are sightings of mythical beast reported all over the world. Massachusetts has its share, from the Dover Demon to the Black Flash of Provincetown. Most of them are only known through folklore but today my friend Ken and I are going to actually see one, or at least its head. The head of the last known Egopantis peers out from above the fireplace at the Bull Run Restaurant in Shirley, Massachusetts.

Take a step back in time to the 1740s. The town of Shirley, Massachusetts is barely incorporated and Obadiah Sawtell opens Sawtelle House, a tavern along the Boston Post Road. In the 1770s, Minutemen gathered before heading to Lexington and Concord at the beginning of the American Revolution.

AMERICA

Soon after America declared its independence from Great Britain, the locals began to share stories of a huge fearsome beast they called the Egopantis. It roamed the woods near the tavern, terrorizing settlers and feasting on livestock. In 1780, Nathaniel Smith had mustered out of the Continental army and was fishing along the Mulpus River behind the tavern. He heard a great roar from the creature, aimed his musket, and fired. Some reports say the creature stumbled to the present-day parking lot before expiring. Other reports say Nathaniel tracked the wounded beast for a full 10 days before it perished. The settlers would be terrorized no more.

The Sawtelle House changed hands and names a few times and has gone by the name Bull Run Restaurant for the past 100 or so years. My friend Ken and I were out riding and stopped at the Bull Run Restaurant for a bite to eat. It’s easy to find, right on Route 2A and there’s a bull on the roof. We both order the Prime Dip sandwich. Sweet potato fries for me onion rings for Ken. While our food was being prepared, we explored the place. There are several seating areas as well as a couple of function rooms. A 95th birthday party was scheduled in one of the rooms on the day of our visit. Around in back we found the concert hall. It seats about 300 to 400 people

and they have some surprisingly good acts with some nationally known bands as well as local bands. Our meals arrived and our sandwiches were fantastic. The Prime Dip was covered with sauteed onions, gruyere cheese and horseradish sauce: the best prime rib sandwich I’ve had in quite some time. Ken agreed. A huge mural depicting the Drunkard’s Progress filled one wall, depicting Nine Steps of alcoholism. This particular mural was inspired by an 1846 lithograph in support of temperance and was painted by Nancy Affleck, grandmother of Ben and Casey Affleck.

Step 1: A glass with a Friend

Step 2: A glass to keep the cold out

Step 3: A glass too much

Step 4: Drunk and Riotous

Step 5: The summit attained Jolly Companions, A confirmed drunkard

Step 6: Poverty and disease

Step 7: Forsaken by friends

Step 8: Desperation and crime

Step 9: Death by suicide

In my mind I substituted “Drink” with “Motorcycle” and it became a little more real.

The real reason for coming today was to see the Egopantis, or at least its head. And there it was, looking out from above the fireplace. It’s hard to say exactly what the Egopantis was. It’s difficult to describe. Some folks compare it to a platypus but with fur. Size wise, it was huge with its head looking to be over 2 feet long. I assume it was of the four-legged variety which would make it substantially larger than a moose (a two-legged version would make it an especially fearsome chicken.) It’s head (beak? snout?) is hairless but an ample amount of jet black fur adorns the edges giving a slightly Amish look.

Also on display is the musket Captain Smith used to dispatch the creature. Information on the Great beast is surprisingly scarce from its death in the 1780s until about 1946 when the Bull Run Restaurant changed hands and the Egopantis assumed its rightful place on the wall. , ~ Dan Bisbee

OUTTA HERE

coSMopoLitan hoteL

2660 caLhoun Street, San diego, ca 92110 619-297-1874 • oldtowncosmopolitan.com

As we roll out of this “old-style” winter, we can not help but think of warmer climes, even though on the other side of the nation.

We have often said the easiest job in the nation is a San Diego weatherman… “tomorrow 70 degrees and sunny.”

This town, which is as far to the southwest as you can go in the 48, has a number of nicknames… Padres, in reference to the Spanish Franciscan friars who arrived in 1769 (that’s where the baseball team got its name), America’s Finest City, and it was even called the Tuna Capital of the World, as its first tuna cannery opened in 1911, and by the 1940s, the majority of tuna consumed in the United States was canned in the city. But, for this piece, we’d like to stick with the Birthplace of California.

Father Junípero Serra founded Mission San Diego de Alcalá, the first of 21 missions established throughout California. This mission, along with the nearby Presidio, became the first permanent European settlement in what would become the state of California.

These developments marked the beginning of Spanish colonization and the spread of Christianity in the region.

Although San Diego is a shiny new and modern city, it has a superb area called Old Town, and here you will find the Cosmopolitan Hotel.

Back in 1830, most of San Diego was spread out along the bay and coast, but a small area was beginning to build up with a handful of adobe homes scattered around a dry, dusty plaza, just east of what is now Mission Bay, along the San Diego River, which has its start some 50 miles to

a

the east, in the Cuyamaca Mountains, just northwest of the town of JulianApple Pie Capital of the World.

All great cities start with one man making things bigger and better, and here in San Diego, that person was Juan Bandini.

A son of a Peruvian sea captain, his family settled in the region after the Mexican Civil War. Bandini was a key figure in San Diego’s development, and between 1827 and 1829, Juan Bandini had a U-shaped family home

built off one corner of the plaza. Compared to most of the other modest adobes, Casa de Bandini was a “grand mansion,” bringing vibrancy to life in old San Diego. The rooms had thick, insulating adobe walls. The ceilings were covered on the inside with heavy muslin to trap insects, dirt, and straw that fell from the thatch roof. It became a cornerstone for the growing city. In 1869, the home was sold and converted to the Cosmopolitan Hotel, which is still open today.

Old Town today is one of the most popular destinations in the city.

The Cosmopolitan Hotel has reserved parking, so you can stash your bike and still keep an eye on it from the hotel’s wide wrap-around porch. All ten rooms are elegantly appointed

with American-made antique furnishings from the 1860s and 1870s, and sticking with that vibe, and to ensure your visit is truly authentic, our rooms do not have televisions or telephones; however, they are equipped with WiFi. Our room, more a suite, had a sitting room, a very comfortable big bed, and was as enjoyable and reasonably priced as could be.

The hotel allows for amazing access to the entire Old Town, with the Plaza, once called Plaza de Las Armas (Plaza of the Cannon) catty-corner from the hotel. The Plaza has some stunning fig, oak, and butterfly trees, as well as a boulder with a Historical Marker for the United States Flag planted in this part of California, by Lt. Stephen Rowan and the U.S. Marines in 1846.

But that’s okay.

Today, this historic area includes three parks and sits next to the State Park with 32 historic sites, shops and the Presidio, the site of the first mission. Strolling south into the heart of Old Town, you will find a number of shops, artists, and restaurants – with a 50/50 mix of interesting and tourist traps.

Come evening, we have one more thing to mention. Ghosts. Oh, here we go again, you say.

Stop the eye roll, okay?

The Cosmopolitan Hotel has all the usual signs… included flickering lights, doors opening, and items moving around, all harmless tricks by the “Lady in Red,” and we were told to keep an eye out for the resident spirit cat, who has been spotted roaming the hallways at night.

But it is the Whaley House, a short walk down the street, that claims to be America’s Most Haunted House. Big claim. But our EMF app did go a bit wild as we approached.

When exploring the backroads of southern California, take a quick trip into the City of San Diego and spend a night at the Cosmopolitan Hotel in Old Town, and enjoy a great part of California history, and some of the best Mexican food in the country. ,

a LittLe bitoFthe iriSh (and ScottiSh) For St. patrick’S day

Having been almost sequestered during this most frigid, icy and dismal winter, I have been remiss in actually visiting any new creamery shops to share with you. So, in the spirit of March and the wearing of the green, I bring you some Celtic delights to find in your travels once the frozen fist of Mr. Freeze loosens his grip and we can, once again, spin our wheels in search of the finest scoops around.

ceLtic creaMery

LocationSin caroLina beach, SMithFieLd, henderSonviLLeand wiLMington nc celticcreamery.com

The back story to North Carolina’s Celtic Creamery shops has its beginning in Ballybunion, a coastal town and seaside resort in County Kerry, Ireland, on the Wild Atlantic Way. Ireland is a magical land in which to ride your motorcycle, and should you find yourself in this quaint spot, you should certainly seek Sundaes, Joanna and Kevin McCarthy’s labor of love, an award-winning, retro family run ice cream parlor, scooping happiness since 2005. What makes Sundaes ice cream so award-winning? It’s the delicious, fresh cream and milk from the Irish dairy cows, of course.

Anyway, as the joke goes, ‘This American walks into an ice cream shop…’ only this was no joke. Jeff Hogan from Carolina Beach, NC was on vacation and, in seeking out some ice cream, found himself a new business venture. After some back and forth correspondence, a deal was struck and, to keep the Irish connection strong, as that is the foundation of Sundaes, the ‘Celtic Creamery’ was born in 2018.

Sourcing all their North Carolina ingredients from as many local vendors and incorporating Irish products when possible, their scrumptious and rich ice cream is churned daily on premise. In addition to the ice cream, the amazing aroma of freshly-baked doughnuts can be inhaled throughout the shops. There is a daily selection of 14 flavors each day, chosen from their over 58 authentic Irish recipes. Fresh fruit is used for flavor, thus every season has its star, such as summer peach or autumn apple. Some of their rotating flavors include Rather Good Banana Pud, Celtic Coffee, From the Sea and Bee (sea salt, caramel and honey) and, of course, Irish Butter Pecan. While a scoop can surely satisfy, it’s their sundaes that bring true happiness – Knickerbocker Glory: Strawberry and Vanilla ice cream surround a selection of sweet berries, with fresh cream and raspberry sauce on top; Surfer Special: Four hot mini doughnuts, with two scoops of ice cream, smothered in fresh cream, hot chocolate sauce and chocolate shavings – Cowabunga, dude! There’s also fresh-made ice cream sandwiches, milkshakes, floats and, should you need an extra jolt to balance the sugar, Affogato with a hot shot of Celtic Coffee.

May the road rise to meet you. May the wind be always at your back. May the sun shine warm upon your face, the rains fall soft upon your fields, and, may you find yourself soon at a Celtic Creamery shop.

ScottiSh highLand creaMery

103 S. MorriS St, oxFord, Md 410-924-6298

ScottiShhighLandcreaMery.coM SeaSonaL hourS

For just over 20 years, Victor and Susan Barlow have been scooping their homemade ice cream. Victor grew up in Edinburgh, Scotland and lived above an Italian ice cream parlor, Mr. Boni’s, dating back to 1907. Victor began working there at 15 and later became the production and facility manager, the only person outside of the family bloodline to learn the secret family recipes – one of only four humans on this earth. Scottish Highlands Creamery has been on the Eastern Shore of Maryland since 2006 They began their seasonal scooping at ‘The Window’ located at 314 Tilghman Street in Oxford, MD and expanded to their other location, The Oxford Social Café, in 2018. Five years later, after renovating an historic building in the heart of Oxford, across from the waterfront Town Park, The Mews opened, allowing them to expand their offerings as well as develop a premium Scottish Highland Creamery soft serve to be served at ‘The Window’. In 2013, what they called ‘the year that changed everything’, they were rated #5 in the country by TripAdvisor for best small batch ice cream. This brought customers from all over the country.

As with all the best ice cream made, Scottish Highland Creamery sources the freshest ingredients, using local as much as possible, as well as importing special flavorings from Italy. And Victor has been super busy, developing all 600 flavors, which he makes by hand, all by himself. As Susan says, ‘The passion that he has for this calling in life…you can’t do that unless it’s in your heart and soul.’

In 2018, Richard and Christine Leggett purchased the Creamery and have honored the Barlows’ legacy of excellence while expanding operations to The Mews and increased seasonal offerings. Some of the excellent flavors offered include Double Belgian Chocolate, Crushed Strawberry, Cherry Mallow, Lemon Meringue Pie, Vanilla with Honey and Cinnamon or Old Bay with Potato Chips and Caramel. As they say, you can have them in a cup, on a cone, through a straw or in a sundae with all the fixins.

The Robert Morris Inn is a great lodging in Oxford, with restaurant, and would make a fine overnight while exploring this part of the Eastern Shore, including a couple of scoops at the Scottish Highland Creamery. Slainte a

We had long planned a ride down to the Alleghany Highland region of Virginia, but like every destination, you gotta get there and back, right? We had a good mix of sorta planned and totally wingin’ it involved in this little sojourn, and that would start with getting across the edge of the Garden State and into Pennsylvania, doing our best to tackle little backroads we had never ridden before. After all these years in this region, that might seem a very difficult task, but it was remarkably easy and a chore well worth it.

Quickly through Sussex and Warren Counties, and the west along a tiny road that runs on one, then the other, side of Pohatcong Creek, crossing the historic Carpentersville Truss Bridge, and then south a touch on the Jersey side of the Delaware before crossing over the horrible to ride over Riegelsville Bridge into the Keystone State.

Thankfully, on the other side of that squirrelly piece of steel deck, there is the fabulous Riegelsville Inn, and lunch was had.

We had one real planned stop for this afternoon, and it would combine a mix of a couple of things that we both love: Guitars and Art. Okay, maybe she is more art and I am more six-string – but hey, we were happy.

Crossroads Guitars & Art, in Gilbertsville, was open just a few years back and has already made a great name for itself, not only as a seller of some very fine and unique guitars, but also as an art & photography gallery. Owner Doug is highly passionate about Crossroads, and that shows.

It was truly one of the coolest music & arts shops we have ever seen, and deserved its own piece in Backroads (see November 2025). Leaving Gilbertsville we made a kinda, sorta, plan, and then telling the Garmin what we didn’t want, we let Olathe do its thing… remarkably (Okay, maybe not) the zumo would bring us another 100 miles on some very neat roads to the town of Shippensburg, where we snagged a room for the night at a Backroads’ staple – the Shippen Inn, now the University Hotel and Suites. Food, drink, live music -Sturgeon Full Moon on the rise. All was good on our boat.

Cro ing the Rivers and Canals

Most of you readers might be aware of Pepe T. Monkey’s slip-up on our Summer Solstice Ride, which headed from Shippensburg toward Staunton, Virginia. That didn’t go well, Pepe was summarily executed (although some say that was a farce, too), and we wanted to prove to ourselves that we could actually get it right. Following along the same basic direction, this time we surgically removed the bad, kept the good, and added a lot more good too. Our route this day was stellar. Sure, there was nobody here that day to verify, but like our puppets say…You can trust us.

The tiny 20-mile twolane that went up and over, and through the woods, dropping us off in Old Town, Maryland, was sublime. So was lunch at the School House Kitchen, a long-time favorite of ours that is located in the old town high school’s cafeteria. Always simple, fresh, and delicious – this is what backroads dining is really about.

The only thing that could add to this was a run through the Chesapeake and Ohio Canal Park and then over the rickety privately-owned bridge crossing the North Branch of the Potomac River into West Virginia.

This low-water bridge, which will cost you .50 cents, is truly unique in the United States. Sometimes I wonder if Maryland and West Virginia really don’t know about this, or just don’t care. The truth is, this bridge has saved dozens of lives over the years, since it first opened in 1937, just eight years after the first graduating class at the high school. Wooden planks, no rails, it is very, umm, rudimentary. But without it, folks would have to go many, many miles east or west to get from one state to the other, as well as to hospitals and trauma centers. Best .50 cents spent since the rapper threw the ball into the Mets dugout.

From the north branch, we slithered over the mountains, along the South branch of the Potomac and then up and over the Appalachians again, running through Lost River State Park, and a very twisty piece of pavement, with stunning views, lots of wildlife, and a superb park on the east end.

That night, we took a room at the Wayside Inn, truly one of America’s oldest inns – this place has been taking care of travelers since the mid-1700s.

Washington really did stay here, as did Jefferson, both generals of either side of the Civil War, and now Backroads.

Very cool place that has so much history in and around the property. We met our friends Joe and Karen, Jeff and Sandy, for dinner a little north in Winchester. Great to see Ex-Pat New Jerseyians in their adopted state.

Alleghany Highlands

The next day, a Monday for the rest of the world, would see the roads that had been filled with weekend RVers and Sunday riders, now clear and calling. We made our way west and then south, running in and out of West VA and Virginia, mostly on state two-lane, and then south on one of my favorite roads that runs along the Cow Pasture Creek. This is a true hidden gem, and now not so secret. But know south of Route 250, the road goes gravel - so riders beware.

We picked up Route 220, in Monterey, my GS bucking and making a fuss

as this was where it picked up a debilitating spike in its rear wheel just a few months previous.

Ever the hopeful bike-whisperer, I calmed him and we rolled down Route 220 – a super and friendly motorcycle road past the towns of Warm and Hot Springs, wondering if the next town would be Scalding Springs. It was not, but more importantly, we’d roll into the Alleghany Highlands and stopped

to take in the Falling Springs Falls. The odd name comes from the fact that this 80-foot fall is fed by a warm spring, and the water is usually above 85 degrees year round. We stayed in the region for a couple of days, exploring the little towns, the famed Humpback Bridge, and generally trying to ride anything on the map that looked paved and promisingly twisty. Alleghany Highlands would not disappoint.

Northward Ho!

On the back side of this loop, now with our sights set north and home, we first rode south and east towards Buchanan, Virginia, and then, as we approached the Blue Ridge Parkway, we began to notice the dreaded “Road Closed” signs.

There were mile markers on this notice, too – but we were not sure where they would be as far as us heading north.

We said a silent prayer to the Road Gods for salvation, and our prayers were answered as the closure was directly to the south, and the way north was clear all the way to the Skyline Drive.

Have you ever ridden the Blue Ridge Parkway for more than 100 miles and not gotten stuck behind, or had to pass, another vehicle?

Right – we never had either – but that is what happened this day.

Almost three hours of controlled riding nirvana. Stopping in at one of the stations, we got talked up about a program they have aimed at riders en-

joying the road and not coming off in an ambulance or helicopter, called ‘Rule the Ridge’. Basically, encouraging responsibility, correct lane position, alertness, and situational awareness.

Quoting their rack card, “Use your skills, take charge of your ride, and bring your group home safely from a day of riding.” Although he did not know he was “preaching to the converted,” we liked that the NPS would think to push a program like this. They even gave us little Rule the Ridge key chains. Nice, and good on the National Park Service.

As much as we love the BRP, and also its brother to the north, the Skyline Drive along the Shenandoah will cost you $25 bucks for every bike. That pass is good for a week, but it seems steep for Highlandian blood. Nope. We have a better plan and thoroughly more Scottish thought. We’d Scoot (Scot) north along the bottom and then west, making a quick stop at Cooter’s to visit the General Lee and grab a milkshake, before running up the Shenandoah Valley along Fort Valley Road that flows with the Passage Creek. A really long day saw us continue on, around Winchester, and into

West “By God” Virginia before quickly crossing the Potomac River and into Maryland.

The long summer day allowed for another hour and a bit on the road, and we ended up back in Shippensburg, where we knew the three Bs were ever present - beer, barbecue, and a bed - and that $50 bucks saved buying a whole bunch of BBQ!

Our ride home the next day was uneventful except for skirting a band of nasty squalls that would follow on our heels all the way to New Jersey and soak us for that entire night.

Rain is a good thing, especially after you are parked.

This was a relatively quick bunch of days on the road, but we covered nearly 1,500 miles, and saw everything from beautiful guitars to stunning mountains, the roads were sublime, and spending an evening with friends was a big bonus.

Follow in our wake – Spring is the perfect time of year to do a little backroads mountain traveling. ,

For the second time in four months, I was once again tapping away at a keyboard, sequestered in a roadside hotel, while Mother Nature FUBAR’d my plans.

Usually, I have a fairly thought-out strategy, but easily and calmly slide to B, C, and further down the alphabet if needed. This time it was kinda on me. I brought a knife to a gun fight.

During the off-season, and on hot summer nights, we have a play car. Although we are all motorcycle riders, we all (mostly) have cars too.

You do…admit it.

Our Durango for day-to-day, and a Subaru WRX STI for fun. It is the special MLC (Mid-Life Crisis) Edition, and the only car we have ever owned that drives like a motorcycle. In my mind, she was destined to be a Barn Queen – a Hot Summer Night Ice Cream Go-Getter.

Somewhere along the line, I began having thoughts of doing more with her, and that led to us joining in on a multi-day road rally, and me severely over-estimating my talents and tires.

So, here we were in a Homewood Suites by Hilton, in Fogelsville, Pennsylvania – just a couple of hours from home, with a good deal of snow, sleet, and ice SNAFU’n our drive for the day. There would be tomorrow, or not.

But… Let us start at the beginning and give you a bit of backstory.

The 48 Hours of Tristate was now in its 25th year. It started with a few Subaru enthusiasts getting together and raising money for a September 11th charity. Over the next decade and a half, the road rally has grown in size, scope, and impact. With more than one hundred enthusiasts and cars attending, it is one of the largest on-road Subaru events on the planet.

For almost a decade now, the 48 Hours of Tristate has been gathering and driving for the Make-A-Wish Foundation, one of the most beloved organizations in the United States. For years now the 48 Hours of Tristate got a huge boost from Subaru of North America, who has joined them as a corporate sponsor.

It was January. What did we have to do? Not much. So, when we heard about this multi-day cruise, we thought we’d join in and take our hot summer night STI out for a long few days on the road.

The 48 Hours of Tristate was to begin in Camden, New Jersey, at Subaru of America’s headquarters, but we had a little side trip on the way down, and wanted to visit Big Rusty – a monstrous statue. Big Rusty is a metal, cement, and wooden troll created by Danish artist Thomas Dambo. She sits like a creature from The Never Ending Story at the end of a semi-closed dirt road in Hainesport, right off of Route 38. The figure’s body is made out of found materials from an old abandoned structure that still stands by her side today. Dambo has built over 170 trolls like her across 17 countries. While most of Dambo’s trolls are made from wood, Big Rusty is largely crafted from metal.

Big Rusty is so Weird NJ!

When we arrived at Subaru, we got to meet some of the folks who put this fantastic event together each year. They were a very welcoming bunch, and it seems that most of the drivers that would be rolling along for the next few days have been doing this every years… some for as long as it has been run. It was a bit like a Backroads Rally, but we couldn’t be chastised for route infringements and errors.

Subaru was most welcoming too – and we all boarded buses, and were shuttled to a “secret” location – a giant multi-rook building that houses some of the most historic, rare, and celebrated Subarus in the world.

This was truly amazing. From the 360 (first Subie in the States) and the Brat to Impreza, and then the WRX, and the modern Subarus that have taken over the market, and Vermont. Taking in one of Ken Block’s cars was all I needed to see. We were again asked not to reveal the location.

We shuttled back and were not surprised to see MIB Agents Edwards and Brown greeting us with a flash of the Neuralyzer. I think.

After a nice meal which Subaru had set out for us all, many of us drove across a bit of the state to get to a hotel closer to the headquarter Castle of the Make-A-Wish Foundation.

Yes, they have a castle.

This entire morning was a humbling, yet heart-warming time. The MakeA-Wish Foundation, if you do not know (seriously?), grants wishes to hundreds of critically ill children and teens each year. Maybe one child wants to go to Disney World (always a biggy), or meet a famous athlete, or musician. Many children wish for something for their families. It is all so painful and wonderful at the same time. This is why the 48 Hours of Tristate is run every year - this year raising over $120,000, and we want to thank everybody, all our friends and readers who helped us raise enough to get team Backroads into the Top Ten this year in team donations raised. Yeah you! After lunch and some swaggy door prizes, we broke up into four groups.

I want to be honest here, and when I heard we’d be part of a nearly 20-car caravan, my heart sank; but after the first bunch of lost drivers, closed roads, and U-turns – well, gee, just like a Backroads Rally. We felt like we were right at home.

Eventually, we all got across the Delaware River and drove north, more or less into Backroads’ backyard. By later afternoon, Shira and I vectored off on our own to head to Hermy’s Triumph for an event, a 2026 bike unveiling, and then met up with the now very large group of Subie-folks in Fogelsville.

Plans were made for the next morning.

Although the previous few days were stunning, this day was deeply overcast, and then the light snow turned to a heavy white blast that was heavy, icy, and frozen all at the same time.

Undaunted, our group readied up.

Ummm – we’re all still going? Okay, right with ya.

Heading out onto the main road, I rolled on the gas, and the STI immediately attempted to swing its way around. Oh, oh. This did not feel nominal, or good in any way.

The STI, our hot summer night ‘go get ice cream’ Subie’s Toyo ProEX summer sport tires, were less than happy in the snow and ice.

They were contemptuous. Hateful.

We motored on. We were on a bit of highway, Route 22, and when slowing down for the exit, I had to fight with the WRX just to keep her under some sort of control. Off the highway and on a PA county road, we heard a call for a stop at a fuel station. We almost hit the Crosstrek in front of us. I felt like I had less than nothing traction-wise.

This bites, and I was not having fun.

I was white-knuckling it, and with a 200+ mile day ahead for the group…I made the adult, if dweebie, decision to head back to the hotel. I felt I might not only wreck, but take somebody, who actually had winter tires and was having loads of fun, out for the count too.

So here I am, kids… but the snow has now stopped, the sun is peeking out, and some of the other Subarus are rolling back in as well.

Adult decisions for others, too, I guess. With some serious education gleaned from the internet, I knew this was all on me, and knew more reasonable tires were in our STI’s future.

Still with the sun back out and the roads kind of passable, we took a short ride for lunch with our new Subie buddy Dana.

Even after lunch, coming out of the diner’s parking lot, the WRX slid around in a Pastrana-like fashion. I let out a few expletives. Dana said it looked cool to the people eating lunch at the diner, like we meant to do this. Kind woman.

By evening, after a stellar sunset, most had come back, and there were stories and one VERY dented Forester.

That night they had a gathering of which I dubbed Beer & Baking – as that what was asked for and some of the brownies and cookies were outstanding. There was more Subaru swag to be had, and though we did not win the coveted bumper from Vermont SportsCar, I did snag a Subaru Rally Team USA coloring book – which I thought would see action later this winter while I waited for spring, and having the STI be a Summer-Night Ice Cream Queen once again.

I went to bed that night with images of driving along a couple hundred miles of snow-covered trees and clear, black pavement.

Before dawn, I looked out the hotel’s window and had only two words.

F!#K Me! Shira sat up in bed, took one look, said, “Ugg,” and pulled the covers over her head. Although there was a chance of another dusting, it was coming down hard and steady.

I looked at the rest of our group and simply said No Mas. They all left (with their gnarly snow tires and all-weather rubber, yada yada)… I brought out the coloring book and tried to scrounge some crayons from the front desk.

We did get home later that day, the 65-mile drive from Fogelsville to home taking forever, as I drove tortoise-like, managing the Toyo’s as best I could. I haven’t been passed by so many people since I took the SATs.

So, kids, we learn a lesson (again). Know your gear. Know your tires. Know your skill sets, and know there is nothing ever wrong with making adult decisions. That is how boys and girls become men and women.

The 48 Hours of Tristate will be back next January. We hope to be ready, and hope that you join us. It’s nice to have a Subaru, but it’s not required, as it is really all about making some wishes come true. ,

A Mid-Winter Night with the C l Kids

It is amazing how 180 days or so can make a difference in your appreciation of the things you love, and that we sometimes take for granted. If this were the middle of July, we might not have been so keen on heading out a hundred miles from home to see some new machines on a Friday night.

But, in the middle of January, when we know one of our favorite shops is holding an event with Triumph motorcycles, and a bunch of new machines will be shown off for the first time in the region? Well, sign us up.

On Friday, January 16, Hermy’s BMW & Triumph of Port Clinton, Pennsylvania, hosted the 2026 Triumph Unleashed Tour, an exclusive after-hours motorcycle unveiling and get together with food and drinks, and some Triumph swag for those who got there early. (The food, especially the pasta, was very, very good!)

Triumph has a number of all-new and updated motorcycles coming our way from across the pond this year, and Hermy’s was the place to be this night. We arrived just as the shop was filling up this chilly winter’s night, with many riders seeing the wisdom of a January night with some fellow riders and new motorcycles, than an evening watching TCM.

It was nice to see the interest in Triumph’s new offerings, and it was especially nice to meet some of our readers who also came, as well as make a few new riding friends.

Salesman extraordinaire and Iron Butt Legend, Bob Lilly, was the Master of Ceremonies this evening and introduced Triumph rep Joshua Winders, who brought us up to date with what Triumph is up to in 2026, as well as a bit of a well-deserved buildup for each bike before the black coverlet was pulled away. The new machines did cover a lot of ground, even sequestered on a showroom floor in winter. From ADV, to classic cruiser, and a

very cool new standard Trident.

The new Thruxton 400 looked to be a superb Sunday-ride machine. Small, very light, but built with styling cues that look to be taken from much higher-end sport machines, and was a very reasonable $6,300.

The Tracker version was almost as impressive. Sitting on it, I was reminded of early, small displacement racing machines that might be doing a lap or two on an island in the Irish Sea. The Bonneville T120 offers classic looks (Very Hilts/McQueen), with modern electrics and ride. The Scrambler 900 was also a crowd favorite. For me, the new(ish) Tiger 900 GT Pro Alpine was a heavy interest, as these bikes have become the Swiss Army Knife for seasoned riders… lighter (yes!), plenty of power,

and everything else men of my age would need.

But we did come to see one new Triumph in particular – the all-new Trident 800.

We had seen media images a few months back, and it looked like a bike that would push all the right buttons for Shira. She had ridden the 660 Trident a few years back, and it was a funtabulous ride. The new 800, also a triple, looked to be all that and much more.

Time will tell.

All these machines should be at Triumph dealers by the time you are reading this.

Thank you, Hermy’s, Bob, and crew for a great evening. ,

PRODUCT SPOTLIGHTS

CHAIN CLEANER PRO • MAKINGAMESSYJOBLESS…

If you ride a chain driven machine then you probably know how tedious, difficult and messy... very messy…cleaning and lubing your drive chain can be.

It does not have to be so. We ran into Jim Dotson at the York Swap Meet, and learned about his new product, the Chain Cleaner Pro. This great design keeps the cleaning and lubing of your drive chain simple and far more tidy.

No more having caustic cleaner, kerosene and chain lube over spraying onto your garage, barn or driveway floor. Jim has three different styles - modern, vintage and even one for carts, and around $30 it is a great and handy tool for your bike’s maintenance. • www.chaincleanerpro.com

DENALI T3 ULTRA-VIZ LIGHTING KIT

The T3 Ultra-Viz provides 360 degrees of visibility to bring your safety to the next level. Paired with the Front T3 Modular Switchback Signal Pods, the side of your bike and the ground around it can be continuously illuminated for an even more conspicuous journey. With the turn signal feature connected, a flashing amber cloak envelops the side of your bike and the ground surrounding it. Made from injection molded ABS, this kit provides a robust solution for mounting the T3 Switchbacks to the aluminum backbones of Barkbuster handguards and similar products. Whether you use the double-sided 3M tape or self-tapping screws, either option will ensure they’ll stay put during the toughest of rides.

T3 Ultra-Viz Bundle Part Number DNL.T3.10700 includes: Ultra-Viz Lighting Mount Kit (Pair),

T3 Modular Switchback Signal Pods - Front (Pair).

The Denali T3 Ultra-Viz 4-in-1 Motorcycle Safety & Visibility Lighting Kit list for $176.00 and can be found at better shops and at denalielectronics.com

2026 INDIAN CHIEF VINTAGE

In the wake of kicking off its year-long 125th anniversary celebration, Indian Motorcycle has unveiled the 2026 Indian Chief Vintage – honoring its heritage by reimagining a timeless classic into a new icon for today’s riders. Inspired by the 1940s Chief, its flowing valanced fenders and unmistakable silhouette pay tribute to Indian Motorcycle’s roots, while the Thunderstroke motor delivers the power and presence that set today’s standard. Built with thoughtful, American craftsmanship and obsessive attention to detail, Chief Vintage reflects Indian Motorcycle’s Never Finished spirit, defined by fearlessness, purpose, and an unwavering commitment to provide riders the choice they’ve always deserved in American motorcycling.

The Chief Vintage delivers modern performance and technology wrapped in heritage. Powering the Chief Vintage is Indian Motorcycle’s air-cooled Thunderstroke 116 V-Twin engine, delivering 120 ft-lbs of torque for effortless passing power in every gear. Three selectable ride modes (Tour, Standard, and Sport) allow riders to tailor throttle response to their preference and conditions.

The Chief Vintage is equipped with Indian Motorcycle’s 4-inch Round Touchscreen Display powered by RIDE COMMAND. The 2026 system features an all-new software, improving startup time and loading times by approximately 25 percent. The new software, now available for all Scout and Chief models with the 4-inch Round Touchscreen Display powered by RIDE COMMAND, introduces Indian Motorcycle’s App Enhanced Navigation, delivering seamless integration between a rider’s mobile phone and their on-bike display.

For two-up riding and all-day comfort, riders can pair the Classic Solo Seat with a matching Passenger Pillion. A Passenger Touring Backrest Pad can also be added, enhancing comfort and making two-up riding more accessible—all without compromising the bike’s classic styling.

Starting at $19,999, the 2026 Indian Chief Vintage is available in Black Metallic and Indian Motorcycle Red and will be arriving at dealerships in March.

The Law Office of Paul Gargiulo, P.C. presents

Welcome to the Jungle -

The Art of Learning to Ride Skillfully

A column dedicated to your riding survival

Scary MonSterS ii

Some people might not consider wild burros scary. They don’t look intimidating; in fact, they’re kinda cute. From a distance, anyway. Up close, it’s a different story. Especially if they’re hungry. This month we will add a few more monster encounters – some truly scary…

Brian Rathjen:

For me, I have had run-ins and run-overs with squirrels, a few bird strikes, and my thoughts are always heavily laden with sadness with each incident. But one was particularly bad. I was riding down the European half of Iceland, along the coast, and the sky was filled with Arctic Terns, called Kría, on the island nation.

These birds migrate each year some 25,000 miles from the Arctic to Antarctic to breed. They have the longest migration of any animal on planet Earth, and can live for decades. They are heavily protected in Ice land, and killing one, even by accident or birdi cide, is punishable by a fine with a lot of zeros, and jail time in Litla-Hruan prison.

They are incredibly aggressive if they feel threatened, and when we were passing through a large ternery of these pretty birds when I spied one swing around, and my mind did a quick calculation of this bird’s trajectory, and my bearing and speed and, though I tried, I could not stop him from hitting the front of the BMW R1250 GSA. It was an explosion of black, white and red all over. Shira, who was pillion, and I both screamed as it happened. I came to a quick stop, and U-turned back to the bird – or what was left of it. All those miles, all those years gone in an instant.

At that point, some of our fellow riders, one being an Icelander, stopped and took it all in. It was hard to say I didn’t do this, especially with the feathers and blood over the bike’s shield. I was told to get going and not to mention it while on the island.

I still wonder if I could have done anything to prevent this. But the scariest monster incident of them all is a creature that can truly mess with your day. We were in South Africa and had parked the bikes in a small lot alongside a roadside restaurant, surrounded by deep forest on a couple of sides.

We were walking out of the place when I heard someone say… “Holy shit!” I looked up, and we watched a fullsized male baboon stroll out from the trees, make his way to, and then around the bikes. He sniffed them all, and then he grabbed the grab rail of one, and began to rock the machine back

and forth. He had to weigh about 80 pounds. 80 pounds of mess you up in ways you have never thought of! He turned and stared at us.

Shira looked at me and, with all seriousness, told me to chase it away. Right. She surely overestimates her husband in a large way.

I made up my mind, told everyone what we were going to do… and, on the count of three, we all charged…back inside, and ordered coffees and waited till Mighty Joe Young had seen enough and continued on his quest for the Holy Grail, or whatever.

That was a very real and very scary monster, and we’d be safer in an Icelandic prison.

Pam Collins:

During a press introduction trip sponsoredby Harley-Davidson, the Motor Company gave us visiting motojournalists the chance to try some new models, riding through the gorgeousscenery of Red Rock Canyon National Conservation Area. The park features a 13-mile, one-way, undulating scenic drive through some beautiful, unusual terrain. Before we began our rides, a park ranger informed us that packs of wild burros lived in the park but shouldn’t pose any trouble. He also emphasized that we shouldn’t pass any other motorists on the one-way road.

I rode numerous loops through the park, trying out various motorcycles, enjoying the desert-like scenery so different from what I knew. No problems...until the last loop. A traffic jam that included several cars mixed with a number of wild burros blocked the road. A number of wild, hungry, burros. The people from the cars were feeding them carrots, apples, and the like, so I stopped to wait for the jam to break up. Until those cute burros turned toward me, teeth bared, braying, looking for their next snack. As the half-dozen of them approached, I decided it best to NOTfind out what they’d do to a foodless motorcyclist and wove through the pack and around the cars to finish the loop, ranger instructions be damned.

Also, deer pose a potential crash problem no matter where you ride, it seems, but here in Florida a different animal can get in your way...wild hogs. And I’m not referring to the John Travolta type. These huge porkers can jump out from forested areas when you least expect them and, unlike deer, don’t move very fast.

Of course, my strangest animal encounter occurred when a panther crossed the road in front of me, but I was running, not riding, at the time. ,