Wachusett Reservoir and the Old Stone Church

After too many days straight of rain, and yesterday being my first chance to hop on my bike for those many days, I decided to make today a day for a motorcycle trip.  Knowing that I would probably talk myself out of actually doing anything remotely like that under normal circumstances, I decided I was just going to do it, possibility of rain be damned.

The day started out simply enough.  The part to fix my bike had arrived at the dealership, so my first stop was in Arlington, to get my bike fixed.  It took longer than I had hoped, but not quite as long as it could have taken.  I got there around 10:30 and was back on the road by 12:45 or so.

I made a swing by Sam's apartment, to see if she wanted to do anything (like I said, I was probably looking for a way out), but the fates had decreed that she be at a concert in Boston.  Ok, no big deal.  I had pretty much decided to head out by that point, so I just got back on my bike and headed for route 117.

I stopped for a bite to eat (mmmm... falafel) and looked somewhat apprehensively at the sky, but there was so much sunlight, and the clouds looked rather far off.  I munched away, sitting next to my bike, thinking about how long it would take and whether or not I would have to refuel at all.  I had just filled up the day before, so I had a full tank as I set out on my trip.

I have two things to say, right up front.  Weston needs to fix their goddamn roads, and there were a lot of other riders out today.

First off, 117 through Weston and Concord sucks ass.  I heard from the shop where I stopped in on my way back (same shop I had lunch at) that they were planning on repaving it this summer.  This is a good thing, as trying to take a curve on a shitty road on a motorcycle is *not* a good time.  Otherwise, the ride out to the Reservoir was very nice.  It was a beautiful day to ride and the sun never went anywhere the entire trip.

It was, however, a longer trip than any I had taken up to that point.  My butt was, I thought, going to fall off by the time I reached the Reservoir.  Oh boy, I hadn't felt anything yet.  Still, the first place I stopped at offered me a chance to relieve myself and treated me to this view:

It was then I talked to two very nice people who were able to direct me to the Old Stone Church (one of the entire reasons I wanted to take this particular trip).  Not more than two miles later, I came across the church. It was off the main roadway and there were quite a few people around.

After stopping just long enough to curse at my transmission for flatly refusing to enter first gear, I made it to the church.  It's quite a site from the roadway, but I couldn't get a very good shot with my camera from a distance.

So, I walked in on foot (you have to, anyway, since the path up to it is gated).  It's a very peaceful spot, I must say.

The church has been gutted (thanks to two fires and the MWRA), but has interior supports that were added to keep the walls from collapsing.  The bell tower is also empty (save for a lone pigeon):

As I looked around the area, it struck me how really beautiful the location is.

As you can see, it's a hell of a view.  That last picture, though, and the gathering dark clouds, convinced me that I should start making my way home.

I headed back to my bike and had a relatively worry-free trip home.  The only problem I encountered on my way back: if I thought my ass hurt on the way to the reservoir, the trip home made me want to kill myself more than once.  Unlike a car, there isn't a lot you can do to shift your position.  By the time I made it back into Weston, to the store I stopped at earlier, to get a sandwich, my back was hurting.  The condition of the road did nothing to help, as going over the rough pavement was hellish.

So, I picked up some ibuprofen while in the store, and another drink and a small sandwich (mmmm... falafel), I let my butt recuperate a little bit before finishing the trip.

I did come to a realization today.  First, while I was sitting in the waiting area of the service department at the dealer, I had a rather long and interesting conversation with the other guys waiting around for their bikes.  It didn't matter what kind of bikes we rode, just that we rode them.  Second, while I was having my lunch, I was sitting outside, next to my bike.  One of the other guys in the store came out and, as he was getting into his truck, complimented the bike.  Last, with very few exceptions, almost every guy I passed on a bike either waved first, or returned my wave (and they aren't your typical wave, either).  I have become one of them, a biker.  One of those guys in the "fraternity" who, just by owning a bike, has become part of that culture.  It's pretty cool.

Catch you all later!