The Hog Pen

It’s Bikefest weekend and we have something like 15,000 Harleys on the Island, or so they predict. Even inside you can hear the bathroom sounds they make, not that I mind it all that much – but the dog is confused and looks at me like “Did you just cut the cheese again, Dad?” She smells nothing, and is distraught.

I’d post a picture of them but you know what a biker looks like, right? Most seem nice fellows and gals in the 50’s with lots of bucks to spend. Typical look. The town kind of handed over the keys on this one, allowing them to shut down the main road for a parade and – get this – a crazy dude that wants to do a motorcycle jump over 15 brand-new Hummers. I suppose the bikers bring in some serious revenue in the off-season but man, we sure bent over backwards this time. Poor puppy, stop looking at me like that!

At least the weather cooperated, with no bad red tide and temperatures in the 80’s during the day. Not bad compared to our compatriots in New England, who are bailing their basements from record flooding from a Nor’easter. (Editor’s note: can you imagine 15,000 hogs on Block Island, Rhode Island?) Two hurricanes put the kybosh on previous plans for New Orleans and Houston rallies, Katrina and Rita, so these guys are ready to party. I don’t blame them there.

One thing I noticed was that the bikes don’t backfire like I remember them; most of the Harleys seem to be in perfect factory shape, without short pipes. This is perhaps a sure sign that we’re dealing with an upscale crowd. Plus, the dog doesn’t like fireworks or loud banging noises. They still roar like ... if my dog could talk, she’d tell you.