MASS-achusettes

MASS-achusettes!

Like most great road trips, this one began as an afterthought.
Late May in South Carolina and the heat had already settled in, spring having pretty much run it's course. Memorial Day week was upon us and Laura had planned on camping with Mom and Jim in North Carolina for the week. I had plans to visit the family in Greenville for a couple of days and then back home for the duration of the holiday. This was not to be.
BFF Pamela, of Greenfield, Mass., is a motorcycle rider, a trait that comes a naturally to her as her culinary skills. Straddling a 600cc bike, Adams leans into curves like she designed each one, making slight adjustments as she anticipates the next. Of course, she knows these roads pretty freakin' well having lived in western Massachusettes for ten years. She began riding as a kid in Haiti. She was a dirt biker, navigating the sandy trails of the southern part of Haiti, jumping the dunes and more or less being the tomboy that she is. Now she rides the roads of western Mass. through hail and snow.
So, I'm on the phone with Pamela and she tells me how her partner Liz had just bought a Honda 650 and it needed breaking in. "It's spring here Reid", she says with that hint of a smile in her voice. Hmmm....spring, riding the Berkshires, historical sites, me and Adams together again looking for trouble. How could I resist?
So with a quick right turn I pointed the Jetta northwards for the 15 hour drive.
I made pretty good time, hitting Greenfield early the next morning. Adams had made arrangements for me to grab some shuteye while she worked and I took great advantage of it. Good thing. When I was awakened at 1pm by Adams, she was ready to get my visit officially started. Oh, did I mention that when I walked into my room, a fine bottle of scotch awaited on my pillow? Oh yes! This visit will be a good one! We fired up the bikes and headed out across the farmlands and small mountains of Greenfield. Since I hadn't been on a bike since I sold my KZ1000 in the late 90's, I was concerned that I'd lost my skills, but it came back to me within a mile of departure.

Anyone who hasn't visited this part of the country is missing a real treat, especially if you're into the early history of America. Hardly a curve goes by until you come upon a farm that has been worked for centuries, sometimes by the same family. Or top a hill and there's another house built in the 18th century. Historical markers abound, some describing indian massacres, revolutionary-era skirmishes or the exploits of former colonists. Pay your respects to revolutionary war soldiers at almost any cemetery you come across while riding the valleys near the Mohawk Trail. Or see the headstones of entire families wiped out by cholera or smallpox.
If shopping is your thing, Yankee Candle has a large store just outside of Greenfield,
or stop at one of the centuries-old apple orchards that dot the valleys. I had a taste of an apple that was picked from one of the first apple orchards in the country (it was pretty bitter).
During our ride, Liz's bike developed a carburetor issue so we took it back home and called it a day. Next morning, I jumped in the Jetta and headed up to Vermont to catch some early morning pictures of the countryside. Back to the house by 11am, Adams arrived home from work and announced another trip: "we're heading over to New Hampshire". And away we went!

There's much more to this journey, like the sojourn up Mt. Sugarloaf,
or the fine dinner at "The Ho" with local beer to wash it down, or meeting a couple of new friends down near Holyoke, and the candlestick bowling fiasco (she wiped the floor with me) but I'll leave these tales to memory.