Sometimes life is all about rules and sometimes they just don’t make sense.
Our little road-riding trio experienced that last summer while travelling in Vermont. Luckily, we got away with it.
We were riding one day heading back to New Hampshire. We’d been on the road for awhile on a route we hadn’t travelled before and it was time for a break. All three of us needed a good stretch, a drink of water and Jake probably needed something else as well. We always try to stop every hour and a half to two hours to make sure our RoadDog stays comfortable.
Steve was riding in front of me when we pulled into a pretty little town on a lake with a fairly decent sized picnic park along the water to our right. It looked like a great place to stop for a break and was just about deserted besides. I can’t recall if we chatted on the radios about stopping or if we both just knew we’d pull in there, but stop we did.
We parked the bikes and I helped Jake get out of his carrier. He scampered around on the grass and got a little disgusted with me when I wouldn’t let him wade into the water. I didn’t want a wet dog for a whole day on the road, but he wasn’t buying it so he was a little upset with me.
I walked him most of the length of the park and then came back to where the bikes were parked only to glance to my left not far from the bikes where a sign declared “No dogs allowed.” Well!
It was clearly too late since we’d been there for about 20 minutes. At first I felt kind of bad and then I realized Jake really hadn’t done any harm. I’m sure there are good reasons behind the rule, but I rode away feeling kind of bad for the dogs who live in that little town. That beautiful park is right there to enjoy, but they aren’t allowed to enjoy it.
But Jake did.