The Same Thing Happens Every Year
 

In Digby Nova Scotia, a motorcycle rally called Wharf Rat Rally is held in the first weekend of September. Thousands of folks from the Eastern Seaboard and beyond come to spend a few days and in many ways, renew old acquaintances.
In years past, I used to get annoyed by the guys who never outgrew putting cards in the spokes of their bikes, but maybe I am getting deaf, 'cause that doesn't bother me as much these days.
This afternoon I followed a guy for about 10 miles and mentioned to my grand daughter how much I appreciated his pace. He was traveling at the normal rate for that road. I'm afraid he seems to be the exception. Usually this weekend one finds themselves coming up behind and remaining stuck behind a gaggle of folks who, based upon their behaviors, don't spend a whole lot of time with their two wheeled "me too rugged individual" status marker. On the straights they creep up to the speed limit then wobble through the corners. If there is more than one, they are bunched up like kids from the day care going to the playground.
My BIL, who puts on many thousands of miles every year, refers to them as the Tim Hortons Angels. Their idea of a ride is 5 miles to a coffee shop before puttering back home again.
The only time I remember holding up other traffic when I rode was in snow or heavy rain.
I feel like putting up a sign saying "Learn to ride or get out of the way. "

Rant off.
Be safe.
Les