The “Quick Ride” That Wasn’t

You know those innocent little phrases that start all kinds of trouble? Like “We’ll be back by afternoon” or “Just a quick ride north”? Yeah — those were the famous last words before me and my brother-in-chrome, Doug Hoyte, set out for what we thought was a casual spin.

The plan was simple: hit Hooksett Rest Stop for fuel and coffee, cruise up past Weirs Beach, ping the New Hampshire Motor Speedway, swing by the Old Man in the Mountain lookout, then loop around the Kancamagus (or as I like to call it, “The Kang-a-magus-a-ma-what-now”) before heading home. Easy peasy.

🤣🤣🤣

We started strong — blue skies, engines purring, and the kind of optimism only two grown men on motorcycles can have before reality sets in. Hooksett Rest Stop felt like the start of a grand adventure: caffeine in hand, twizzlers, and gas tanks full, and plans sketchier than a GPS signal in the mountains.

We ripped up to Weirs Beach, where summer memories still lingered in the empty parking lots. Doug, ever the philosopher, said, “Bro, this is the calm before next year’s chaos.” I nodded, pretending I wasn’t already mentally calculating how long it would take to get home before our wives filed a missing persons report.

Then came the NH Motor Speedway — or as Doug called it, “our quick detour.” Which of course turned into a not-so-quick detour. We stood there talking about how we could totally take a few laps if “they’d just give us the keys.” Spoiler: they didn’t.

Next up was the Old Man of the Mountain lookout. Or what’s left of him. We stood there squinting at the rock face, pretending we saw something that wasn’t there. Doug goes, “I think I see his nose.” I said, “That’s just bigbird’s nest, man.” LOL

Then Came the Kancamagus — or the ‘Kang-a-mango’ Every biker in New England knows “The Kanc” — 34 miles of twisty bliss and questionable guardrails. The scenery was so good it made you forget your gas range… until you really shouldn’t have.

BONUS ROUND: The Lake With the Name No One Can Say – But the real highlight? That unplanned stop at Lake Chargoggagoggmanchauggagoggchaubunagungamaugg in Massachusetts. Try saying that three times fast after 200 miles of vibration. We rolled up, stared at the sign for a full minute, and just started laughing. Doug asked, “You think the GPS can even pronounce that?” Nope — Siri tapped out after ‘Chargogga.’

We joked that the name roughly translates to “You fish on your side, I’ll fish on mine, and no one messes with the middle.” Which felt about right — especially since we parked halfway across the line and called it neutral territory.

The Ride Home — The Great Return (Eventually). We rolled in way after “afternoon,” covered in bugs, grins, and just enough guilt to look apologetic when the wives asked, “What took so long?”

I said, “Traffic.”

Doug said, “Worth it.”

And we both agreed — the best rides are the ones that weren’t supposed to be long… but turned out unforgettable.

Quote of the Day:

“You can’t rush a good ride — or pronounce that damn lake.”

— MarkyMark

Hoka Hey Rider #1321 | The Rolling Wolf