Heading South out of New Hampshire, I was starting to feel a bit more like myself. The flu had taken its toll. I was coughing and weak for another 10 days, but at least I was on the mends. In the last 4 weeks I'd only been heading North and East. Now I was heading South, toward home and some warmer weather, at last. There was really only one scheduled event for my entire trip, and one location I'd felt definite about going to. I was getting closer to my High School reunion in Westport, and feeling a little nervous. What would people think after 35 years? Would anyone remember me? Would I fit in? I felt some reassurance remembering what I was told, "At the 10th and 20th reunions, folks are still concerned with who's done what and who knows who. By the time the 35th reunion rolls around, most folks are just glad they made it this far, and that they made it back to their hometown to see everyone else.
The plan was to stay with my brother's family in New Canaan, with 10 miles of Westport where the reunion would be. I stopped in Plymouth, CT. I spent the night in a cheap motel, (I was getting spoiled with all the indoor plumbing!). Plymouth was small, and apparently suffering some from the economic conditions of the country. I saw a number of vacant storefronts. I woke and headed for Route 7 toward Danbury. In Kent Falls, I went to the falls and sat in the field for an hour or so. I picked my guitar and started getting some real peace. There was another primitive trailer whose owner had reconditioned it. It was originally built in 1961 and was toting a family of 6. I went further North on Route 7, up to Cornwall Bridge. That's where the Cornwall Bridge Fly Shop is. Art had directed me there several years ago. I remembered the owner. He's an ex-stockbroker who decided he'd rather be fly-fishing than be on Wall Street, and made it all happen. Across from the fly shop is the Housatonic River. There's a large section of river there that's designated fly-fishing only. I pulled out the guitar again. Heading back down Route 7, I came upon the hot dog vendor that had been there several years ago when I'd been there last. I stopped, of course, and had a hot dog.
On the way South along Route 7, I couldn't resist stopping at a BMW motorcycle shop I saw along the route. I left with a bar-end mirror. The shop had quite a range of bikes. There was the standard Beemer fare. R1200s, K1300s, LTs, and GSs. But on the way back to the parts area, they had 5 Indians for sale. These were the brand new ones. The ones that my friend Don's son had created. To be sure, Don's son, Steve had purchased the Indian marque, and a wearhouse full of motors, and started recreating the Indian brand. These motorcycles were BEAUTIFUL. I threw a leg over the big dresser, and got the feel of the balance and weight. It's no doubt a heavy bike, but it felt balanced and manageable. The sales pitch included an offer to come ride one anytime. The bikes were all based on the same platform. They were available with various styles of bags and fairings. But each one had all the top of the top of the line accessories. All of the best 6 speed transmissions, all the custom suspension parts, and the top aspiration. Prices started at just under 30K and went up from there. Then...if getting to see the Indians wasn't enough, the shop owner kept his collection of classic machines in the waiting room. He had an R69S, a Laverda, and a Vincent. What a beautiful machine, that Vincent.
I got to Art's around 3:30 that afternoon. I didn't feel much of the pressure of the N.Y. metro area. Coming from the North, before the weekend, there wasn't much traffic. The owner of the fly-shop had referred to the "leaf peepers" that would be driving up Route 7 on the weekend. The trees were starting to change color, but couldn't rival the colors further north.
My niece and nephew came home from school shortly after. What a treat it was to be staying with them. (Pic) I learned how to play the violin from my niece, at least some basics. And I got to get beaten again playing video games by my nephew. I ate very well, rested up from my many days on the road, and still got over to my reunion in Westport.
The reunion, (StaplesClassof74.com) was a great event. The graduating class was around 1,000, and we had 300 people attend the event.
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