B.A.D. Ride 7

We left and headed west on Major Mackenzie when Walter motioned to me that he had a problem and would have to pull over as soon as there was somewhere to do so safely. Moments later I was dodging a multitude of shiny metallic parts dancing merrily on the roadway towards me. Four way flashers turned on, we quickly brought our bikes as tight up against the shoulderless curb as possible and prayed that following motorists had enough sense not to hit us.

I once lost a nose cone cover on a previous bike; even watched it leap from the road into the adjacent field in my rear view mirror. I remember spending twenty fruitless minutes searching for it too. I was sure that whatever had come off Walter's Electra Glide was gone for good.

Thirty seconds later, I was proven wrong when my eagle-eyed daughter had found all the runaway parts, and then some. We rode the few hundred feet to the first exit where he re-installed his shifter. Standing there on the side of the road as Walter worked on his bike had brought back memories of his days with a Triumph Bonneville. It seems some things would never change.

With the bike quickly repaired, we looked at our watches and decided that we should make our way to the CNE grounds where the BAD Ride's afternoon festivities would be taking

Heading south on Yonge: only minutes away from gridlock.

place; that, of course, and lunch. The problem was that the most efficient route was not available to us.

Completely missed by the organizers was the closing of the Gardiner's west bound lanes for maintenance, and the traffic nightmares that would surely develop on Lakeshore Blvd. Last minute instructions had been announced prior to the start of the ride, but I had paid little attention thinking that I wouldn't need them anyway.

Since the Don Valley Parkway and Gardiner Expressway were no longer an option, we thought that taking Yonge St. would be as good a choice as any. That notion lasted as far south as Sheppard where we finally made a quick jog across to Bathurst where the traffic was at least moving. Actually, by taking advantage of our ability to squeeze ourselves through tight spaces, we made excellent time pretty well all the way to King St . Except for the one scary moment when a Mercedes wanted to share the same piece of pavement as Walter was on, the ride was rather enjoyable. I even got to point out famous landmarks like Honest Ed's to Gail.

The fun ended at the base of Bathurst where all traffic came to more or less a halt. Whether it was the construction work, a walkathon, or just plain poor traffic control by the motor cop, we spent a lot of time idling and getting nice and toasty. We did see a lot of bikes converging from different directions, so we were not the only ones having trouble getting through.

The BAD team thought of everything — even a fan to keep riders cool in the nice weather.

On with the Festivities

But of course we eventually did get through, and were soon being directed to our parking spot on the exhibition grounds. With bikes locked, gear stowed, and food tickets in hand, we let our noses lead us to our next destination. There was a line of hungry bikers in front of us, a line as long as I've stood in at many other bike rallies. The difference was that I didn't have to wait an hour to get fed; it was only about ten minutes before I was picking between a sausage on a bun or a hamburger, and choosing from a half dozen side dishes. An ice cold Pepsi, some condiments from a separate location, and we were off in search of a picnic table. The whole process was remarkably quick and painless.

The Barney Adams Blues Band was playing as we sat down at an empty table right in front of the speakers. Too hungry for conversation anyway, we just let those good vibrations aid our digestion. This was a good thing because the precision riding exhibition was about to start and we had to hurry with our meal if we didn't want to miss it.

On our previous BAD Ride, Gail and I had positioned ourselves centrally for the show which we ultimately decided was a bit too close to absorb the entire performance. This time we kept more to one side and the effect of the bikes roaring towards us was better appreciated. Unfortunately, we could no longer make out what the announcer was saying. The PA system could have used a few more strategically placed speakers to get its job done. As much as I like the Winged Wheels motorcycle team, having seen them do their thing once, their routine no longer had the same effect as the first time. Unless the team adds new maneuvers to their show, I can see my interest in them dwindle. On the other hand, for anyone who has yet to watch them ride, it is definitely a highlight of the day.

After the precision riders, we went back to check out the displays of the various manufacturers. I was particularly interested in having a look at the Honda Rune, which, surprisingly, I found looked much better in the magazines than in person. Nevertheless, it was still an impressive machine. Better still was the look of terror on a Honda rep's face when a couple of wild sticky fingered youngsters started to climb onto this expensive and exotic motorcycle as we left.

By the time we had completed the circuit of all the bikes on display, we were back in front of the stage where various competitions were taking place. Prizes were being awarded for longest distance rider, combinations of rider and bike ages, largest and smallest (measured with a micrometer) tattoos, and more. When the band Bad to the Bone came onto the stage, we suddenly realized we had totally forgotten about the silent auction, and there wasn't much time left before it would be over.