This is a great week to be on two wheels. It's Motorcycle Week in New Hampshire.
Thousands of motorcyclists converge on Central New Hampshire. The vast majority of them are very good around bicyclists, even if some of them poke a little fun by pretending to pedal as they go by. You're a riot, asshole. I flip those morons off subtly, with the middle digit casually draped over the handlebars, but it's all in fun.
In the past couple of years some of them have seemed more aggressive. Last year the weather was horrible, so I blame their irritability on that. Also, the ones who ride rice rockets with nasty screechy engines tend more often to be complete male appendages of reproduction. And some of the ones set up like road racers like to whiz by kind of close. I guess they haven't really thought about what would happen to them if we tangled.
The invasion of the two-wheeled horde keeps the four-wheeled population pretty well boxed in. There are always a number of fatal accidents. In the ones involving cars and trucks, the cars and trucks always win. Others just involve motorcycles, high speed and chemical impairment. Generally when the motorcyclists ride in groups they rule the road. It's the loners that get picked off.
If it went on longer than a week it might get really tiresome. As it is, I witness the herds moving through with a sense of wonder. At night I can hear big groups miles away. It's much less disturbing than the noise of a single ATV living near me. They come. They roam around. They leave.
It used to be just a weekend. It used to be a lot rougher and dirtier. It can still get rowdy. But it's entertaining.