Saturday was the December open house at Joe’s Cycle Shop (my preferred Triumph dealer); considering that I will be due for my 42,000 mile service any second now, I planned on stopping by to pick up all of the necessary replacement parts. The weatherman claimed it was going to be around 50 degrees, so I made plans to ride up to Greenville for lunch with a few of my riding buddies. The wife and I also made plans to have breakfast with a couple friends near the dealership downtown (also going to Joe’s for the open house), keeping in mind the somewhat tight schedule I had planned, it was necessary for me to ride separate, no big deal…
At a crisp 24 degrees, I donned my usual winter getup and backed the bike into the driveway. About as soon as I reached up to flip down my visor, I detected the faintest hint of flurries coming down. Caught off guard, I pulled out my phone and checked my “trusty” Weatherbug app; 0% chance of precipitation, no blobs of precipitation on the radar. I shrugged my shoulders, figured it would taper off in an hour once the sun got a little higher in the sky, so I set off to catch up with my wife, about a mile or so ahead of me.
Cruising down the highway toward downtown, I saw a few swirls of flurries scurrying across the tarmac, but the road remained dry. I took it easy on the overpasses, knowing that they would be affected first, but despite the frigid temperatures, everything was “going as planned”. Bobbing along to the radio, just short of my intended exit, my phone rang (I have a Cardo Bluetooth Communicator). My wife called to inform me that the roads up ahead were soaked and there was snow accumulation; perhaps I should turn around. Like a typical man, I dismissed the concern, informed her I was barely a mile behind her, I’d go slow and I’d be at our destination shortly. At this point, I had seen a few damp spots on the freeway, but no real accumulation of water or snow; however the fog was starting to get a bit dense as I crossed over the Miami River.
Almost the moment I crossed the Stanley Avenue bridge, the freeway was soaked, and I noticed the ever ominous “great white death” stuck to tree limbs and grass (while my wife probably won’t read this, she was probably right…). Slowing down, my destination was fortunately the next exit ahead; at this point, the road was wet, but the tires were still hooking up fine (not entirely sure how…). Coming down the off-ramp, water was starting to pool in various places along the roadway. Fortunately I’ve ridden this area quite a bit, including in the rain, so I was somewhat prepared for the less-than-ideal conditions. Turning at the light, the density of the snow accumulation started to concern me; it wasn’t true winter accumulation by any means, but when you’re on two wheels… any amount of frozen water is cause for concern.
With about three blocks to go, I made sure to gently lean through the corners, keeping the bike upright wherever possible, staying calm, and made no rash movements. For the last couple blocks I was still trying to discern how the road was completely soaked, yet unfrozen at well below 30 F. Pulling into the parking lot, the bike was filthy, I was grumpy that the weatherman had gotten the better of me, yet extremely thankful the shiny parts were still shiny. As more flakes started to collect on the tank, I unplugged my heated gear and went inside to meet my (very frustrated) wife.
You know that moment in all the movies when the “stranger” walks into the bar and every set of eyes in the place is staring at them? Yeah, that’s what happens when you walk into a place with a helmet in your hand with snowflakes on the ground.
At any rate, after a few laughs and an admittance of my stubbornness, 
I unfortunately cancelled my planned meetup with my buddies for lunch (conditions were less than favorable…), and then subsequently waited for the roads to dry out over the next few hours before heading home.
Having lived in Dayton for over 30 years, I had never seen such odd weather conditions. After talking it over with friends, and a little help from Wikipedia, it seemed apparent that frigid temperatures combined with dense fog led to a flash of low altitude snowfall. Elsewhere around the world I imagine this is a common occurrence, but in urban Dayton, Ohio, it was a first for me.
Like as I said, when the plan goes awry, the adventure begins…
So, has the weather ever left you stranded?
I apparently have a sickness, it’s rare, and from what I can tell, untreatable. We’re well into fall, with winter right around the corner here in southern Ohio; that being said, I realize my riding days are numbered at this point. I turned on my phone this morning to check the weather, at a crisp 30F outside, for whatever reason as I stepped out the door, I thought to myself “the game’s afoot Old Man Winter…”
I wouldn’t go as far as to say that I’m in full “Eskimo mode” just yet, but last weekend I took the time to re-install my hand guards bearing in mind the imminent frost. In addition, I’m also beefing up my riding game with the usual heated grips, combined with the new Tourmaster heated gloves I picked up last month. It wasn’t exactly toasty this morning, but my hands are far better prepared for the sub-freezing temperatures headed our way.
If you’re new to the blog, I have a general principle, “Is the road dry? Does the bike start? Then ride that thing!” This attitude requires a substantial amount of preparation and risk mitigation, but thus far, Lola has been on the road every calendar month since she rolled off the showroom floor. Getting up ten minutes early each morning may seem like a waste of time for some, but when you drive a base model car, it still beats scraping the windshield!
When the food arrived, I was in such haste for lunch that I, again, forgot to take a photo of the food. Thinking back on it now, I’m rapidly realizing that when things go “unplanned” I’m typically so busy enjoying the moment that I forget to snap a few photos (I’ll work on that…). In any case, the pork ribs, slathered in Carolina “Hot” barbecue sauce, were falling off the bone; just how I like it. The ribs also came with a thick, well buttered, piece of
Unbeknownst to me, Friday around 6 PM is still a pretty busy time on US-129 as new arrivals are taking their first trips across the legendary road. As that became obvious, I stuck close to the white paint on the blind curves and otherwise kept my wits about myself to get in another run and avoid the unsuspecting riders crossing the double yellow headed the other way. (Photo from 
Moto Adventurer 