What, no pictures?

I crawled out of my bed this morning, these early morning wake-ups … I’ve got to break that biological clock into smithereens.  I rode down through western New Hampshire, to the Triumph dealership in Merrimack.  I had ordered a couple of shirts, “50% off online, this weekend only!” and had them delivered on my path.  Really, it was Two Guys Smoke Shop I was after.  The shirts were just an excuse to make the diversion a few miles down the road to a beautiful cigar shop with a wonderful staff and entertaining patrons.  I put together a box of a variety of cigars, and then sat down to enjoy banter and laughs with the “Board Members,” with whom I am now a member.  I glanced down at my watch and saw that it was 1300, decision time.  Do I ride to West Virginia and see Dave, or continue on forfeiting the opportunity to see him.  About an hour later I found myself on the Interstate with the cruise control on 80, being passed up, flying toward West Virginia.  Let me just say, between Nashua, New Hampshire and Charles Town, West Virginia, is this little burgh called New York City—Labor Day Weekend.   I felt like a tomato in a granite quarry, waiting to be squashed, but I just dropped into the current of vehicles and let it carry me on.  Yesterday was my favorite day on the motorcycle (Ontario, the Adirondacks, Green Mountains), today was my least favorite.  The straight roads of the midwest might be boring, but the feeling of bowling with hand grenades like today takes all the fun out of it.  But alas, I made it through 6 states today without a scratch or detonation.  Nothing of consequence, traveling too fast to enjoy the scenery, and ended the day exhausted, but safe.