Welcome to America

Woke up late this morning outside Montreal, the result of wandering the city late at night, first on purpose, then just lost. Didn't take many pictures, though I did follow a couple of full-dress Buddhist monks for several blocks hoping they would pass a place called "Super Sexe" at just the right angle. They didn't.

Got on the road, and at the first rest stop saw a Hummer with a Harley sticker in the rear window. Welcome back.

Stopped several times, once to see my aunt and uncle in Albany, and again to eat a piece of pizza at a gas station near Binghamton. I would have eaten at the table inside, but it was occupied by a fat kid and a mountain of stuffed animals. His dad was mopping the floor, wearing a Harley bandana and a shirt that said "You Suck" in large white letters on the front. The kid was nice, he asked why I was eating in the parking lot. I told him it was nice there, and it was. A few minutes later, the dad pulled his Jeep Cherokee around to the front, revealing a huge vinyl "Sons of Anarchy" sticker on the rear window.

Around Wilkes-Barre, I decided to push through for home. I have a tradition of stopping at Rocket to Venus for my first beer back after a long trip, and I figured I could just make last call. I rode through the dark and fog of deer-infested Pennsylvania for home.

About 20 minutes before last call, I was rocketing down the JFX, my music set to shuffle, and the Misfits came on as I took the off-ramp to Cold Spring. I hit it fast and perfectly, right on schedule and ready for a Natty Boh.

And that was when the chain fell off.