Giff's employer finally let him go around 1pm or so this afternoon. Leith, Giff and I headed out for my first ride of the season. Giff actually was going to try out my version of riding, going to places that make no sense to anybody else, but us Grand Tourer's. Leith said he was starved and needed to grab some grub, so what fits better for food fare than a diner. We headed for the Miss Worcester, probably my all time favorite joint to have something to eat.
As we pulled up, a guy coming out says "too late they just closed". Immediately I knew where we were going. One of the few 24 Hour Diners left in the country, that's on the National Register of Historic places, has colorful folks that show up and the food not so bad. It has the well rounded diner experience.
Our arrival, we take up the whole front of the Boulevard Diner with our bikes.
Leith was kind of upset that there was a change of plans because we had talked up the Miss Worcester so much. I ordered the Hash with 3 eggs, ordering them flipped and broken, no runny stuff. I wanted to make sure that the Lipitor I am taking is working at its fullest abilities. Actually there is so much available, that was the first little sign I saw and with the questioned answered that it was home made hash, that hooked it right there. Breakfast on the grill.
Here's a picture of Leith, actually I was trying to get a pic of the character next to him.
The I wanted to grab a pic of our pretty waitress, but Giff decides to photobomb my pic.
A shot of the orginal stools that came with the Diner in 1937. This diner has remained in the same family for quite some time. One of the few 24 hours operations in Massachusetts.
I finally asked Superman if he minded if I take a picture of him. He said no problem. He must be a regular here, because the waitress seemed to know him quite well.
So breakfast came to an end. Giff and Leith went outside to prep for the ride, while I remained inside paying the bill. Go figa. (actually they gave me cash for their meals.)
Giff, having way too many helmets. (he is going to some kind of therapy sessions for this, but the internet makes it all too easy) discovered he left his white HJC hanging from the helmet hook on the back of the bike. He has a white Arai and got confused on where and which white helmet he planned on wearing. The helmet lock was not locked, wide open, and a wonder it did not bounce off, especially riding the wonder slick pavement of Worcester. It now has a really nice tire burn on the side. Gives it that nice helmet patina