Harold Taddy puts on a great show. Tonight he brought a varied group of poets, musicians and dancers to the Bremen Town Ballroom in Millheim, PA. He also brought a crowd — the place with packed with attentive, appreciative folks who braved the single-digit temperatures to support local artists. Huzzah! for everyone involved.
A personal note: Last night I timed out my set, including the banter, and came out at 13 minutes (two minutes under the limit). Tonight I stuck in a bunch of jokes and went three minutes over, for the first time in my life. Embarrassing! My apologies to everyone who had to suffer through the super-sized set of poetry.
Regular readers know that the camera on my phone is horrible, and tonight I forgot my real camera. So here are a few bad photos of some of tonight’s performers. You can also listen to, or download, my poetry reading using the player above.
I took a hundred-mile ride today in the company of my pal Wiggus, who rides a sweet Triumph motorcycle with a much bigger engine than Zaphod’s. I didn’t ask him, when it was all said and done, how much slower than normal he’d had to ride, because I was afraid he might tell me. Truth be told, I don’t think he had to throttle down that much. Those winding Central PA roads tend to even out the size of one’s engine.
So that’s the route up above. Believe me when I tell you that the map can’t even begin to represent the beauty of this drive.
The first part of the ride, over the mountain in the direction of Hungtindon, was one I’ve taken a couple times before. In fact, I first did it on Vroomfondel (photos). And I rode part of Route 305 just the other day. But today we took 305 much further. And it was stunning.
I don’t have a picture of most breathtaking moment, which was coming around a corner to see a wall of mountains to the right and a mile-wide swath of farm fields between the road and the mountains, all of it stretching away over the horizon. I can’t remember if this happened before or after Martinsburg, but I do remember the tingle that ran up my spine when we rounded the bend and saw this majestic vista.
We made it to Martinsburg only to discover that Mamie’s Cafe, our destination, was closed on Sunday. I peeked in through the window and it looked lovely. A counter covered in pastries and cakes and pies, with classic round tables and wooden chairs visible through an archway. Definitely worth a return trip.
Wiggus knew of a place in Huntingdon, so we headed up Clover Creek Road and over the mountain to get there. At one point we were passed, fairly dangerously, by four guys on crotch rockets. They whipped around Wiggus and me and the car ahead of us, all uphill around a blind curve. All four survived. Later we were passed by their two friends, one of whom barely missed hitting an oncoming Harley, the driver of which was not amused, if his gesture was any indication.
The joint in Huntingdon was also closed, because this is central PA, so we ended up getting drinks and snacks at Sheetz and then coming home via 26.
Going back up the mountain on 26 I started losing power, but Wiggus pointed out that it was likely a fuel delivery problem, and when I thought about it, that made sense. I was nearly out of gas, going up a steep grade with the throttle wide open.
We parted ways to our respective homes shortly thereafter. A fabulous day, and definitely not my last ride with Wiggus.