went to visit my brother

[racinchef]

Decided to ride down to Massachusetts and look up my brother. I hadn't seen him in about three years since our parents' 50th anniversary party. He and I are the only ones left living in the northeast in my immediate family. He was living in Tennessee near Memphis and moved back north to try his hand at flipping houses with our sister Lisa, but the housing market went bust. Anyway, he stayed after he met his girlfriend. I didn't bother calling because he and I only have cellphones and he almost never has his with him or checks his messages. Anyway, I head south with his address punched into my GPS and stop in Keene, NH for gas and the GPS reroutes me down a state highway I've never been on. I figure I'm up for the new road and follow along. Route 32 through Swanzey, NH was great and hardly another car on the road. I cross a very popular route 119 and continue on. Finally, I see a sign for the Massachusetts town of Royalston. Suddenly, the road turns to absolute crap!!! I had been cruising along at 45-50 mps, but now I was crawling along at 20-25 mph. This went on for about another 7 miles. This road hasn't seen a piece of road equipment for at least 40 years excepting a winter snowplow. Eventually, as I got into Athol, MA and to the Tully Dam the roads got much better. Finally, after my GPS guided me through the convolution of steets and to my brother's address, I parked my bike. I spotted a navy blue GMC pickup in front of the house and figured it was my brother's. The house number was posted and his name was on one of the mailboxes. I tried ringing the doorbell marked with his apartment number, but did not hear it ring and no one came to the door. I walked around the side and there was a door with the apartment number on it so I went and knocked on that door. While I am looking around I am pretty sure I can hear some voices, but can't tell where they are coming from. Finally, a woman comes to the door and I ask her if Mark is home. She says he had left not too long ago and wouldn't be home for a while. I told her I was his brother Bruce. She says, "well then come on in". Seems my brother didn't recognize me through his curtains since I had grown my beard. I suppose some hulking, strange looking bearded biker guy showing up at his door on a big black motorcycle must have been intimidating. We all had good laugh over it. I told him about route 32 coming into Massachusetts and he said that he ran into that his first and only time on that road. We had a very nice visit and will try to keep better in touch with each other. He used to ride on bikes that he inherited from dad; a Kawasaki 750 parallel twin and dad's last bike, a 1980 Honda Goldwing, but had to give it up due to equilibrium problems. I finally got my brother's odd work schedule written down so now I can plot out when he should be at home so we can get together. I left after about 5 1/2 hours and headed home on route 2, the Mohawk Trail. It was kind of nice to revisit the roads that I used to ride on back in the 80's when I had my '71 BSA 650 Lightning. Once I got to I91 I turned north for the 95 or so miles to White River Junction. I caught all the weekend tourist traffic, but it wasn't bad. Glad I have a Nomad to burn up all those interstate miles. Got home before dark and thoroughly enjoyed my day. I probably would not have made the trip with my SUV because of gas prices.