Thru the Peephole: Musings on the Strange, Interesting, and Maddening Characters We Meet “On the Road”
By Allan Gereg of St. Clairsville, Ohio.
Chapter 9: Kindred Spirits? – Lake Superior “Biker” Brother
In 1984, Doug and I decided to take another trip into Canada (hoping that the border crossing would not be so exasperating as the one in 1980: see Chapter 6: Oh! Canada!–Unwanted Immigrants). However, for this Canadian trip, we decided to go West and travel thru some new territory in Wisconsin and Minnesota, cross the border and circle around Lake Superior. As usual, it was a quite uneventful ride across Ohio and the Indiana flatlands… just the hum of the bikes and the “ka-thump, ka-thump“ of the interstate pavement. Ugh, yes, the interstate… The Bane of Modern Motorcycling… but so necessary when one’s time is limited… On this trip we planned to limit the interstate miles as well as stay the Hell away from Chi-cago… toll roads and high speed bumper-to-bumper traffic… I seem to have a serious aversion to toll roads… Wonder Why Izzat?… to give money to travel highway… it’s like Rent-a-Road for a day! I guess I’m stuck with the feeling that The American Open Road is the Motorcyclist’s Birthright! (hmm… my next campaign slogan?). Sureley, it also has something to do with scrambling for dollars… finding no good place to hold the money as you approach the tool booth… in the teeth?… yecch, unsanitary - and that damn visor and chin guard!… in the left hand?… oh, oh, I gotta down-shift!…Whoops!… goodbye dollar!… in the right hand?… no good… I’m gonna brake or I’ll end up thru that striped gate… Crash!!
So Where Do You Put It?
Oh, I suppose that many less anxious riders cooly wait until they reach the booth and casually pull the money from their pocket and are on their way!
Our stop for the night was a “quaint“ little Motel 6 in Urbana, Illinois… the place had definitely seen better times… we should have been tipped off as we entered the lobby and greeted the desk clerk, who had an “Old Goatish“ look about him and the personality to match… “Yeah, sure, we have rooms… You want TV? It’s $2.00 extra!… Oh, how ’bout color; it’s $3.00? Waddaya Want?“ I believe we opted for the b/w TV… the clerk eyed us suspiciously and threw a key on the counter… “That’ll be $23.00 plus tax! Cheap, huh?“ Yes, in many ways,Bub! Relieved to be stopped and ready for a shower, meal, and rest, we walked around the building to find our room… times really must have been hard in this part of town; as we reached the side entrance, we passed a dirty ’72 Olds station wagon up on blocks next to the door… looked like it’d been there a while… wonder if the owner had to sell the wheels to pay for his motel stay?… Sheeesh, what a treat this night will be!?!
Somehow, we made it thru the night alive and our bikes were still whole in the morning, so we took off north to Wisconsin. That evening, The Alaskan Motel beckoned to us in Mauston… we got a great night’s sleep here… no cars on blocks nor gunfire! On up thru the Wisconsin widerness we plodded… flat, wooded, and damp… after awhile the scenery starts to look the same… trees, trees, trees… and when you stop… bugs, bugs, bugs! One more night before we reach the border… We stayed in a neat family-run motel called The Whispering Pines probably halfway between Duluth and Canada, near Silver Bay. As we checked in, “Mom“ smiled and said she’d send extra towels for the room. Here came her 12 year old daughter with blue flower-print towels… a first in my motel experience… flowered towels, big and thick… just like being at home!
So, finally the next day, we reached the border. I must admit, my heart sunk a bit as we approached the customs gate… memories from our last visit still lingered. But this time, the young man in uniform smiled and admired our bikes!… said he was a Gold Wing rider… we tried to convince him that BMW’s were the best thing on earth… smiled, laughed, and went on our way!… Wheew!!
That Little Glimmer of Hope for Humanity Showed a bit Brighter Today!
So, on to Thunder Bay… yes, Thunder Bay… what a name!?… Canada’s western-most city on the Superior lake… the seaport and hub city for central Canada’s grain harvesters… railyards and grain elevators abounded; millions of tons of grain waiting to be shipped by ocean tankers thru the Lakes, up the St. Lawrence and on to parts unknown.
I must mention another memory of Thunder Bay… Molson Golden Ale… ah, yes, it is the True Amber-hued Nectar of the Gods… so fresh and pure tasting, carbonated ever so rightly… the flavor so perfect… and the Power to Knock you on you Kiester!! How comes it that you can’t get this beer to taste sooo good at home? On my return to BO (Beautiful Ohio), I was so taken with Molson Golden that I immediately bought a carton… really anticipating the rush of that exceptional flavor, I opened the first frosty bottle, took a good, long draught…
Phooey!! Pfft!! Yecch!! What Happened??
That damn beer truck must have made a detour thru a barnyard… the driver had to have drunk all the “real stuff“ and refilled the bottles with whatever he could find that was Yellow and Foamy … if you catch my drift!? What a Disappointment! The same thing happened with German beer and me… when stationed in Germany while in the Army, I became close friends (intimate, you might say) with many a brown bottle of local brew… and never have I, it seems, tasted that Ambrosia in America! (Came close lately though, thanks to the Four Winds club invite to the Allegheny Brewing Company on Pittsburgh’s north-side… a small German style brewery that brews expressly according to German Brewing Law… a pure, unadulterated beer, made with just four ingredients - grain, hops, yeast, and water… it’s a wonderful place to visit if you have a liking for a quality beverage and unique and lively Ratskeller surroundings.)
Aw right already! We spent a day or two around Thunder Bay… visiting Old Fort William, a reconstructed stronghold and trading post from the fur trade days… costumed crafters and soldiers lectured about how things were done at the time. We also did a little Amethyst Mining nearby… you pay your money and go chip the rocks for amethysts… we found some low quality stones to keep for souvenirs.
It was time to make our way around the northern rim of Lake Superior… ahead of us was beautiful scenery… the woods and the lake… more like an ocean… with nothing but water on the horizon. On we went thru the towns of Nipigon, Schreiber, and Terrace Bay. It was in the small town of Marathon that we met our “Biker Brother“ for whom this chapter is titled. It was time for a rest and fill-up, so we pulled into what might have been the only gas station in town… it was a large complex… a truck stop with a restaurant and store on the premises. We pulled up to the gas pumps and poured in the $.53.9 per litre gasoline and decided we might have a cup of tea to warm up… although it was July, the lake and northern latitude keeps the temperatures spring-like. As we walked into the crowded eatery looking for a seat, a smallish man, dressed in a somewhat unkempt brown striped suit, addressed us, “Hello,there! I see you’re bike travelers,too, ay? Where are ya off to?… um, sounds like a fine trip… I’m travelin’, too!… headed West… I’m on a bike, but nothin’ as good as yours!“ At that, we were both surprised, considering the fella’s suit (although it was a little tattered and had that “slept-in“ look). As he talked, I noticed that the man’s right pant leg was wrapped tight around with a rubber band…? He must be riding one of those “chain-operated“ motorsickles without a guard?…Hmm… As we talked, the little guy looked around anxiously and seemed kinda fidgety like we were keeping him from something, yet he continued to talk away endlessly. I was gettin’ the idea that maybe this guy’s been wearin’ his helmet too tight or something!!! The little chap finally said that he would be on his way, wished us luck… in return we wished him a safe and kind journey. We stood watching him walk to the corner of the building… our curiousity was by now piqued to see just what kind of bike he was riding! So, out from behind the restaurant came the little Jim Dandy… pedaling his Schwinn!?!! With a big wave, he pumped the pedals and down the road he went… headed over the next hill to see what there was to see! Ha! A Biker?!? Yes, a biker… indeed, the equipment that he employed was different, but it seems that the Spirit of Adventure was much the same… for him the Open Road was Wide Open! And, no doubt, every day brought him new adventures… isn’t that kinda what we’re all looking for? What is around that next bend?… over that hill?… something is there awaiting us… what is it there?… good or bad… that is the question that intrigues us all, ay?