50 States Day 193 Dover to Newcastle, ? miles (The bike's in the shop!)
"God always gives His best to those who leave the choice with Him."
With temperatures in the low to mid forties, QG and I, using our excellent resources of judgment and reason, elected to wear the (PP!) Gerbing gear and plug it in. Getting the wires figured out (white goes to white, yellow to yellow and so on... I know, it's complicated), it takes a bit of time after a five month hiatus, but soon we were hooked up and cooking.
This isn't a product review, we'll save that for when we're tested them in a plethora of conditions, but the Gerbing gear works great. Anyone who rides knows that gloves can only do so much in a low temperature high wind chill situation. Yet, after a few dozen miles, I asked QG to dial mine down a bit.
The real revelation of how well they worked occurred at the bike shop, when we got off and unplugged. Sheesh! It was cold.
Power Sports East hooked us up. Yes, they could get to the bike. I listed our needs-headlights, air cleaner, oil change, differential oil, and a pesky warning light. Then the light dawned. We needed to find a motel. So while the service writer um... wrote, we zipped off to Super 8, signed in, dropped the trailer and everything from the bike and I returned to the shop. Dropped off the bike- and my teeth. Wow! $379.00. The air cleaner replacement was-guess how much. No, higher. Nope. Higher than that. $179.00! Apparently they must disassemble half the bike to access the air cleaner. Next time I need one, I'll just trade the bike in.
The Nor’easter was predicted to hit around noon. And at noon, I walked to the motel into a shrieking cold wind with fine drops of rain. And unplugged, the Gerbing pants worked well to ward off old man um, autumn.
Since we're immobile, we found a place close by for dinner. Hooter's.
Now I don't know where they came up with the name. Except for the logo, there were no signs of owls anywhere. But as we sat, I saw a waitress with two big mounds... of French fries. Okay, then. Gia was our waitress, and I had a really hard time looking at her face because of those two huge... television sets showing football games. The music was loud, the place festive, but I couldn't help but feel sorry for those girls. Apparently they don't pay them much, because every one of them was wearing what looked to be their twelve year old sister's clothes. I mean they were way too small. I have to remember to leave a good tip.
We surveyed the menu and I kept looking for chicken breasts, but they had none (isn't that curious?), so QG and I ordered boneless wings with fries, the Wednesday Special. She decided on Daytona sauce and I asked Gia about the Cajun sauce. Very hot, she said, and that I should order it naked. Weird! I started to undress and they both stopped me and said it meant the wings would be naked. Okay, I'm really confused. I've never seen a chicken dressed. And after being defeathered, it would be the epitome of naked, right? Apparently the wings will be cooked without sauce so the Cajun doesn't battle with the other sauce. Got it.
As we waited, I saw a poster with a Hooter Girl posing for their calendar. I indicated to QG that maybe that's just what we need, you know, to know what day it is. She looked at me with flames shooting out her eyes and said the iPad had a calendar with dates on it. But what if the battery died? I decided to drop it.
Gia returned with two huge, round, beautiful... plates of food. And if you're looking for hot, I'm telling you that Habanera sauce works about as well as Gerbing gear. You talk about hot! Gia stopped by and asked about our meal and I said she was really hot. I mean, I said the sauce was really hot. Then QG got hot. I don't know why, because I'm the one that had the Habanera. Another waitress walked by and I wiped the sweat off my brow with a paper towel.
We enjoyed the meal, the view... of the televisions, and the time together. QG kept trying to keep me focused. But those... televisions are distracting.
And I still don't see what owls have to do with it.
Back home (wherever we are, that's where home is), the phone rang and the bike shop discovered a blown fork seal. Sure, fix it. We'll get the bike back tomorrow. I hope so. If it takes too long, we'll have to eat at the closest restaurant again.