Many motorcycle runs – most, it seems – take place to benefit one cause or another. The Katelynn Stinnett Memorial Run is no exception. You can catch the back story on that link, but basically this run is held simultaneously in many states each June. Each event is coordinated independently and benefits an area 501(3)(c) charity.

This year, here in New Jersey, the run was for the benefit of the NJ Chapter of Bikers Against Child Abuse. BACA is an international organization. Confused yet?

Pam and me have been riding this event for a few years now and it’s definitely trending downward. The NJ site I mentioned earlier still features the group shot made that first year as a banner. That image was made toward the end of the after-party. The crowd is still at a respectable number, some of the police escorts are still there, you can see some of the vendor tents and if you look carefully, you can see part of the band’s PA on the right. (The image, while a good one – Pam and me are on the viewer’s left, front row, in black tank tops - isn’t the only thing that’s outdated on the site. Keep your informational hunger in check if you visit.)

By contrast, this year’s after-party was a couple of dozen, tops, enjoying pizza and beer in a local restaurant.

Not sure what’s up with that, whether it’s the economy in general or what.

On a personal level, though, it’s the riding not the party that interests me and the leads from NJ BACA did not disappoint. We spent several hours – a good 160 miles or so – rolling through some of the better roads that the Garden State has to offer. This was in contrast to prior years, where the run was basically from one of several registration sites to a central end site.

I’ve got some pictures from the day in my gallery. Not many, and not particularly dynamic, because Pam rode her own instead of as my passenger, where she usually snaps away. For her, with only a couple of years under her belt, this ride was a bit of a milestone for both distance and group size. She even scraped a floorboard or two on her Deluxe! Made me proud of how far she’s come as a rider.

Pam’s been great about filling our calendar with all kinds of great rides this year. We had a good time on the New Jersey segment of the Katelynn Stinnett National Memorial ride June 13th. The way I heard it, this was the first ride of its kind. It took place simultaneously in all fifty states, a separate event occurring in each state. Of course, if you were so inclined you could certainly ride to something other than your home state. I met some folks from Delaware that rode into Jersey.

(Google the title of this post and you’ll find tons of support sites. New Jersey’s is here, where Pam and me are in the banner picture, seated in the front row on the left.)

We staged up over at Highroads Harley-Davidson, one of four staging locations for the New Jersey event. We weren’t sure what kind of crowd to expect. When we showed up at the Freedom Run to Ground Zero we were astounded at the thousands that showed up, overflowing their huge parking lot. The Highroads shop is small and there would have been some serious disruption if even several hundred bikes rolled in. But the lot easily accommodated our crowd.

The press was in attendance. You can see photos and coverage on the MyCentralJersey.com site.

The State Police escorted ride itself was kind of short and uneventful. Since the police at the front and rear couldn’t handle intersections the bike behind the lead would peel off to block traffic, taking up the rear position as the line passed. No, it’s not a legal move. Yes, it’s an effective and safe way to move a long line of bikes through suburbia. Our escorts kindly looked the other way, so to speak.

The after-party was pretty good. We took over the Dock’s Corner Tavern in Jamesburg. The way I heard it, the owner only warned the help of the onslaught the day before, not the best strategy. But the crowd was interesting. We met a number of people from BikerOrNot.com, where apparently much of the organization for the ride took place. Ah, social sites.

Then it began to rain. We sort of figured it would pass after just one more beer, but no, it just got worse. We bought some raffle tickets and Pam won a bunch of stuff – she’s lucky. The rain kept coming, intensifying, and the crowd thinned, many donning rain gear and riding off. As for us, well, tank tops and jeans do not rain gear make and we put it off the inevitable as long as we could.

But finally, off we went. This was Pam’s first unprotected foul weather ride in maybe 25 years. She didn’t have a whole lot of fun with it.

There’s a funny thing about the wet when you ride. Getting started isn’t easy, but once you get as wet as you can get and you can’t get any wetter, it’s not really that bad. In other words, the anticipation is worse than the act itself. As long as there’s a hot shower waiting at the end.

Back in May Pam and I rode into Rahway for their annual Hot Rods and Harleys event. The emphasis was definitely on the hot rods. It was a blast wandering the city checking out the cool iron (amazing how the $50 junker of my youth has come to be worth a small fortune), drinking beers in the sun, taking pictures. Go check ‘em out if you have a few minutes to spare.

Afterward we had a minor run-in with a local LEO, but it turned out fine.

the sparse hall

To say this was a crappy show would be an understatement! Everything was stacked against success. It had been rescheduled from February and today’s weather was outstanding. There were bigger events this weekend in Pennsylvania as well as Wildwood. Oops. Kevmark really dropped the ball on this one and I’m sure everyone involved lost wads of cash. (This was a stark contrast to last November’s show, where we had a ball.)

Pam and I arrived thirsty from Long Branch. Convention Center parking was easy and there was no line for entry. That should have been a warning sign, but it was late afternoon so we paid it no mind. We paid the gate and Pam chastised me for neglecting to print the discount coupon available online. (We learned later that the gate was the discount price – I guess the ticket seller sympathized, knowing what we were in for.) So we walked in and… whoa! You could have scraped my jaw off the floor! The place was freakin’ empty! We bought a couple of beers and started to walk the aisles.

Can you see me in the rear-view?

It was a tough call. Walk slowly to make it last or move quickly to avoid the spammers. Spammers? Yup, dare to saunter and they’d assault you, pitching their “free” vacations or whatever, shoving clipboards with forms into your hands. Y’know, filling out one of those things constitutes a “business relationship” which gives them the right to call you or email you mercilessly (and sell you to others), immune from FTC regulations. We’ve learned to avoid ‘em. The number of non-biker vendors, compounded by the emptiness, was just staggering. All I gotta say is if I wanted a ShamWow or a Gutter Helmet I’d have bought one long ago.

art plus 615 CID of V8 power

We refilled out beers. There were some decent bikes to see. There’s so much detail in an Indian Larry build, say, that you can see it again and again and it just doesn’t get boring. I stopped to talk for a while with a guy from Boss Hoss of Stamford when one of their heavily customized monsters caught my eye. He welcomed a break from the boredom. The paint on this beast was stunning, and the engine – closer than not to twice the displacement of my Ford pickup – would be very respectable in any vehicle, never mind a bike. I had to ask. With over 40K in the build, he said, if it were for sale it’d go for at least 120 large. He invited me to climb on and stand it up. Despite the thousand-pound-plus weight it felt amazingly light and well-balanced. Can you just see me approaching in your rear-view?

And that was that. There’s nothing else to say because, um, it really was that empty. On the way home we stopped at the Brunswick Grove for a couple of beers and some fries. You hear it said all the time: “It’s all about the ride!” Today that was well and truly accurate.

The Saturday just passed was the first day of what I would call great weather for 2009. After a winter like the one we’ve had, there’s only one thing to do – go riding. So Pam and me blew off the gym and headed down to Long Branch Harley-Davidson for their annual open house. As H-D dealerships go, they’re a good bunch of folks and I’ve been known to take my business there even though they’re out of the way.

The local traffic was heavy. Gas prices have dropped to less than half what they were last year so hitting the road isn’t quite the expense it was. But soon we had filled the wallet with cash, tank with 93 octane and left the local roads for the freeway. I settled into an easy cruise, about 65-70 MPH, and stretched my legs, one hand on the throttle and the other on my leg. I usually like to be moving a little bit faster than the prevailing traffic – it’s less stressful to be overtaking traffic than the other way around – but this felt great and I wanted it to last.

Cokes & Footlongs

Way too soon we were off the freeway and into the local traffic stream in Eatontown, which absolutely sucks in the best of circumstances. There’s this several mile stretch of route 36 between 18 and Broadway that’s full of traffic lights, timed such that you hit each one – several times. It’s always choked with traffic and it can literally take 20 minutes to cover two miles. It’s a moneymaker, too. I’ve never NOT seen police in the area, lights a flashing. We sweated our way through it. I mentally calculated how many degrees I might lose with better fuel management, perhaps an oil cooler, while cursing the EPA.

We parked right outside the dealership and joined the fray. Wow, what a crowd! It was lunchtime so we queued up for a couple of sodas and footlongs while the band played. The guy manning the grill was obviously a graduate of the r.plav school of incineration! Say, wasn’t that one of the parts guys playing bass? I chuckled to myself. The Harley crowd’s an older crowd, mostly aging Boomers. The songs being played were probably written before most of the band members were born!

We wandered the merchandise inside and out, but neither of us found anything to buy. That’s sort of unusual; we usually come away with at least a t-shirt or two. I didn’t feel too bad about it though because the lines to each register were quite long. There was very respectable amount of business being done. You’d hardly think that the economy was in the toilet.

After a while we hit the road again. Our next stop was the Northeast Motorcycle Expo in Somerset. We worked our way back through that stretch of hell – er, route 36 – and got back onto route 18. Again, we took it easy. We’d get to Somerset soon enough.