The running of Frost Your Nuts 2020 was as nutty as ever, with the bluster of many of its macho motorcyclists showing early and often, As I Feel So Much Depends On The Weather.
A crotch rocket pulled out of the Kwik Trip parking lot around 11:30 a.m. by screaming southward at 40 mph. Others in groups followed suit, showing more street cred than respect for the signed speed limits, which dwindled from 35 to 25 at a point just north of them. Let’s face it, with law enforcement, such longtime functions are grandfathered in and it takes quite an offense to get pulled over. But there were socially positive things, such as all around, the typical honks and waves to passers-by, especially when it came to coasting past Kozy Korner, a benchmark in North Hudson.
But not all were so. A man in such a crew had just stepped into Guv’s Place, recently acquired by the Kozy Korner venue just a few doors down, then ventured out the door again and announced .. uhm, I’m not sure to whom … What, are you following me?
Across the street at Kwik Trip, there was another example of social distancing and masking not being at the forefront of people’s minds — especially if you are out for your first jog on your cycle in a while and have accumulated some stir-craziness. The guys as so often has been the case, got almost to the door before thinking that oh, I’m not wearing a mask at the moment, I’ll have to backtrack and see if there is one in my hog’s saddlebag, (is that the right term?)
Out at the other end of the parking lot, there were a couple of trucks each decked out in flags both U.S. and Trump supporting, getting ready to state their case to all those passers-by who were likely of their same ilk. And in the closest space to the door, there was a classic truck in great shape, having no rust, that featured a bumper sticker on the rear view mirror alluding to the need to be complascent (my word) and follow the Constitution, as it was argued, when it comes to support for rights both individual and constitutional, or you will have neither.
So on the way back home, I saw that yes, it was either the last or second to last weekend with the unbelievably balmy conditions — were these and other possible constraints that start but do not end with the virus, present in the Flood Run in September? — that met the rally, to go to the cabin and not go nutty on a Harley. A man I talked to over the summer has on weekdays an RV parked in a necessary way that still takes up most of his driveway, especially since the RV has a third-lane wing because more people then he use it in their treks Up North. It was not to be seen, although will likely be a fixture in front of his house before we get much further into October.
But all this transpired in the late-going, as when it got to be 11-ish in the morning, there were few if any cycles making the usually obligatory loop around Cherry Circle North, as a precursor to the grand release at noon. At times you could hear the roar from Fourth Street North, which is betwixt and between our cul-de-sac and the main highway. The only sign of life at that time was a neighbor who took his big hog out for a lap around, then pulled back into his driveway.
But when it was After Midnight and temps had cooled, there were not more cycles to be found, although their drivers usually hit the bars late and make a day and/or night of it. Instead, they were all nestled snug in their beds, with visions of Harleys past dancing in their heads. And on Sunday night, at the end of the cycle weekend, the balm had left all but in a sun-screen form and there was cold rain, with only one cycle roar to be heard, although fleeting.
(In a related story, see a post coming soon about how various factors unique to these days had an impact on Sturgis, it has a one-word name like a supermodel or Sabbath/Priest/Maiden. And how one local oldster plans to hit it again and again, with an anniversary coming, and just might keel over on the road, like Ozzy will probably die on stage doing .. what? .. what they both love).