In May 2006, I took the day off to go to the Port Dover Friday the 13th rally in Port Dover, Ontario. It was an overnight trip and I went with some folks from the RideMotorcycle.com chapter in Detroit.

The rally is held every Friday the 13th, winter or summer, rain or shine, or so they say. According to the web site, the tradition started in 1981 on Friday November 13 with 25 friends. This year the news reported they had 50,000 bikes and 100,000 visitors, all in a town of 5000 residents.

As the week approached, I kept my eye on the weather. It has been a somewhat cold Spring and as the week progressed, the weather reports called for more cold wet weather. Finally, on Wednesday night before the trip, the Detroit ride leader officially called off the trip but noted that Bob Feyers, the Detroit chapter chairman, was still interested in going. I searched for a more favorable weather report and called Bob with my findings and my desire to go. He had a few other takers and 7 of us decided to go. Since it was a smaller group or a less formal group (I'm not sure which), we decided to leave a little bit later in the day. We were to meet in Mt Clements at 7:30 am -- the original plan called for leaving at 6 am! This meant I could leave Ann Arbor at 6 am. The old plan called for leaving A2 at 4:30 am! Yikes!

My ride to Mt Clemens was uneventful though it was cold -- I think it was around 42 degrees most of the trip. We finally were all ready to go around 8 am: Bob, his brother Tony, Shawn, Owen, Mike (aka Keys), a guy from Grand Rapids who was not planning to stay over night, and me. We rode to Port Huron and stopped one last time to gas up in gallons.

There, we met some guys on Goldwings who wanted some ride partners so they joined our little caravan. We crossed the Blue Water Bridge and entered Canada in Sarnia. When I pulled up to the immigration booth, the guy asked if I was "with the group" and I said yes. And he replied, and they let you ride with them, noting my sport/touring Honda Interceptor. I said sure. I like my bike a lot -- it is very unique, good looking, has lots of advanced features like fuel injection and anti-lock brakes and it is fairly comfortable. It lacked the presence of say a Harley Davidson but that day has come for me. I now drive a 2007 Harley Street Bob. In reality, my old bike got a lot of admiring looks despite not being a Harley. And the RideMotorcycle.com groups takes all comers anyway.

We took a fairly fast ride to along the 402 and 401 -- our planned stop was a service plaza on the 401. It was good ride though the big highway is not that fun -- plus I had to pee pretty bad by the time we got there. Some of the other guys had intercom systems so they could talk to each other -- two had CB systems so they could talk to each other and truckers on the highway. I'd like to look into a CB system.

When we stopped, and seemingly wherever we stopped, folks asked about the bikes and going to Port Dover. It seemed that everyone in Canada knew about the event and knew someone who was going: a brother, a father, a friend. It was like being an instant celebrity.

We decided to go to the motel first, get rooms, and drop off some items. We got the celebrity treatment again and I even got a butt swap from a middle aged woman who jokingly asked us to bring her along. By now, it was around 11 am. The ride to Port Dover from the motel in Woodstock was a lot nicer than the highway -- a winding road through small towns. As we got closer, the number of bikes increased and there were all sorts of bikes represented. The ride through the last town before Port Dover, Simcoe, was slow as there were many stop lights and a lot of bikes. Residents sat in chairs along the road to watch us go by. Finally we hit a check point staffed by the Ontario Provincial Police -- at that point, only motorcycles and residents with passes were allowed through. In Port Dover, the streets were lined with every kind of bike -- some streets had three rows of bikes. We parked in a lot by the sports "arena." At this point, our first question was, where is the beer tent? The local police pointed us in the right direction.

The first place with beer and food was run by some kind of Christian fraternity, like the Knights of Columbus. C'mon in boys, there's beer and pizza downstairs. Somehow it felt like the Hotel California where you can visit any time you like but you can never leave so we opted for the first outdoor beer tent. The weather was a little chilly but partly sunny and dry. The beer tent we found was raising money for an animal preserve. I asked, you mean for the animals we've scared away? The lady smiled and said don't worry, they will come back when you leave. We enjoyed a couple of beers and brats and then decided to tour the bikes. We walked past more bikes than you can imagine. There were folks of all ages, men and women, though most seemed on the far side of 40. There were leather vendors, T shirt vendors, jewelry vendors, and bars -- everything a biker needs. There was even a fish fry with strippers.

There were all sort of crazy bikes too -- with animal skin seats and bull horns on the front. There was a bike with a motorcycle front end and a Fiero back-end. It looks like it would seat 4 including the driver. There were choppers too of course.

We walked back and found another beer tent and settled down for an afternoon of beer, more brats, chatting, and people watching. As the day progressed, the crowd got younger, probably as folks were arriving after leaving work. The crowd got bigger and bigger. And yes it was too cold for women to take off their shirts for the bikers, for those who are thinking about such things.

Around 5 or so, it started to look like it might rain so we decided to a) go back to the motel, b) get some beer from the beer store, c) find a bar with more beer and dinner. We also had a recommendation for a bar that the motel concierge would later refer to as a "gentlemen's club" where sexual favors were inexpensive -- needless to say, we passed. I got separated buying t-shirts (they have a pretty strange idea of what size a woman's extra large is -- I'm not sure if it would fit Annalee) but we all got back together again at the bikes. It sprinkled and then started to rain a bit more as we arrived in Simcoe. Owen's bike, a Harley as it turns out, started to backfire a lot and most of us had to pee so we stopped to check out both problems. Bob joked that you just can't take Harleys out in the rain and it did appear that one or both of the spark plugs was fouled. We got directions to a part store and Owen took Bob's Harley while the rest of us peed and had a Wendy's snack. We also got directions to the local Beer Store. We were worried that the government store would close early, even though it was Friday night. Keys teased the local guy who gave us directions, as he was getting into his truck, that a real good samaritan would go get the beer for the poor wet bikers. He got back out and said he would but we said oh no, that was okay. He good-naturedly told us "fuck you" and we all laughed. Owen came back with two sets of plugs and his bike was running fine again. We found the Beer Store (past two Tim Hortons and a shoe store) and got the beer -- there was some debate about whether or not it would be cold but this was Canada so of course it was. The case fit in one of the Harley trunks so off we went -- by now the rain had largely subsided.

We arrived at the motel and waited to get checked in. The motel guy was on the phone for sometime and after some more teasing by Keys, we broke into the beer. The bar manager let us know we could not drink in the lobby but invited us to the bar, which turned out to be a pretty good bar. We took the beer to one of the rooms and finished off the case while watching the end of a Pistons game. Then it was off to the bar for dinner and more beer. It was a good bar with a band and good staff. Keys started ordering whiskey shots along with the beer and food. The group dwindled as people grew tired or overcome. Finally it was last call and Bob, Shawn and I were left. Bob decided he was done and Shawn ordered a beer and agreed not to let him drink alone. By this point, I think I had had three whiskey shots and 12 beers, counting everything we had in Port Dover. He wanted to talk politics so it was off to the motel parking lot. Somewhere between John Bolton and Ann Coulter and one too many cigarettes (just to be social), I puked. Twice. Shawn was a bit surprised but I said its okay, I'm still listening. Finally I had to go the bathroom and call it a night.

The next morning I was pretty fragile and food was the furthest thing from my mind. I showered, had some coffee, and got dressed. Owen, my roommate, came back from a "big truckers breakfast" and we went downstairs to settle the bill. The other guys were there and Keys said, hey I hear you were the hero last night. My handiwork was still there on the motel pavement outside. Bob said, I think you are going to get a new nickname: Cookies.

We all laughed and they were ready to go to McDonald's for breakfast. So we checked out, geared up, and headed over. Owen took off on his own as he was planning a longer 4 day trip around the Bruce Peninsula. I just had orange juice and coffee.

The ride back was pretty uneventful as was the crossing back into the USA. We separated at that point -- they went back to Detroit and I headed to Owosso to meet up with the rest of the family. I did get a little wet on the way home but I did have the foresight to put on my packed rain gear and I stayed dry.

Later in the week, I got the following message:

Dr. Pilgram, after the Port Dover trip this weekend, several members of the club, including 2 Doctors, have agreed that Mike Nowak's (Snackdog) handle needs to be changed to 'COOKIES' which is still considered a snack I guess... The reason for the change...well...let's just say 'what happens on the road, stays on the road' (or on the ground in the hotel parking lot).

thanks,

bob

Just call me Cookies.