So.  Let me tell you about the trucks.

No.  Let me tell you about how dark it is on a country road at midnight.

Naw.  How about how many Italians does it take to change a burned-out brake light bulb?

Wait! Wait! How about first the machine goes, then it stops running, then it starts up and roars away, then it stops, no!, it's running, no!, it's stopped again.  60 MPH, 45, 62, 27, 55.  Will this never end?

I know, how about "Just how hot can a muffler get and what can it do to a camera case?"

Or, perhaps I should do what the King told the White Rabbit: Begin at the beginning, and go on till you come to the end: then stop.

I was born in New York City in Nineteen Thirty..... perhaps this is too much of a beginning.

I ride a Piaggio BV 250, that gets off the mark like a screaming banshee and doesn't flatten out until about 72: topping off at 82 to 87 depending upon how she feels (since I have no other explanation for the five-mile-an-hour difference).  Not that I normally go much over 40, but there are times when necessity is the driving force.

The aim of my trip was 1) to visit my family - scattered all over the lot (as the expression goes), and 2) to do it by riding the backroads of our wonderful country.

My first day ended in Montgomery, NY which I reached via Route One, Nine and Four in Maine into Rollinsford, NH and the Black Bean Cafe.  (I never pass up an opportunity to eat at this wonderful small jewel).

From there is was 202 and Nine through NH into Brattleboro, VT.  Riding Nine through Vermont along the rivers and through the National Forest was worth the trip all by its self.

From there it was 22 south, sliding over to Nine again and crossing into NY at Kingston.  Once in New York, it was 32 down to 208 and on to Montgomery: and a well deserved rest (along with a fabulous Easter Dinner).

End Day One, and other than me dropping my machine by slipping on sand while making a U-turn, it was a bee-yout-tea-full ride.