(Guest Blogger - TomV)
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This weekend, I went out alone. Well me, the bike and my camera. Had no plan, other than to head to central Mass in search of funky colored leaves and perhaps a new watering hole. I did not time it very well, missed peak foliage by about a week but I did manage to get a couple of pictures.
Even though I nearly struck out on the leaf peeping, I did come across a great find in Belchertown, a little Irish Pub called McCarthy’s Pub. Bikers don’t normally think “Irish Pub” when they go looking for hot spots but the lineup of H-D iron out front told me that this place was different.
I must admit, I did get a few eyeballs when I walked in but that was probably because Belchertown is a lot like Mayberry and they knew I was from out of town because I don’t look like my mother married her own cousin.
The owner is a charming woman, who also works behind the bar. She was busy getting all excited about setting up the guy on my right with a friend of hers who was in her words “super hot” (you know cause most single women who can’t find a man without their medaling best friend’s help, usually are “super hot”).
The guy on my left was a fellow rider who has an 01 Road king with 80,000 plus miles on so we had a lot to talk about. He showed me pictures of his bike (on his I-phone mind you) like an overly proud grandmother shows you a wallet full of grand kids while you sit on her plastic covered couch eating hard candy out of a fake crystal bowl.
I felt like a regular instantly. Everyone wanted to know what brought me to their sleepy little village. So after a beer and a few introductions, I took a gander at their menu. Ahh…..all the traditional Irish fare. So what did I order? Bangers and Mashed…. don’t think so. Corned Beef and Cabbage….not on a frickin bet. Sheppard’s Pie perhaps, fuck no! I ordered the Fried Chicken and mashed potatoes with gravy, like any red blooded American Boy would. It was very good. 4 crispy pieces of finger-frickin-lickin goodness.
I did get a few more looks when I was snapping pictures of my soon to be devoured deep fried fowl. So I told everyone I was the Phantom Gourmet hoping to get a free beer or something but it did not work. They just asked more questions about who I was and why I was there. Several of them kept making funny gestures that I assumed were local gang signs. Turns out they were trying to point out that I had a spot of gravy on my nose.
I will definitely go back again. It was a very friendly place, they had Keno, they had plenty of bike parking and the food was good and cheap. Next time I might be a little more adventurous and try something a little more traditional like the Pizza.
Next time you find yourself in the Pioneer Valley, head to McCarthy's Pub in Belchertown. Think you'll like it.
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