Pas des Deuce

Best in Show IMHO

When they were last here, I only got a few photos before the batteries in the Canon croaked.

This year, I was aware when the deuces rolled into town; even if I hadn’t caught a clip on the evening news, I couldn’t miss the roar of the engines or the slew of candy-coloured paint jobs cruising up and down the main drag at the end of the workweek. Boy Sister and I sat outside the Blanshard Street Starbucks and watched them trickle through the intersection, unable to blend into traffic because they are made to stand out. He got some great snaps of rear bumpers and front fenders, or whole delivery vans and local SUVs – taking pictures of a moving target takes some practice and more time than we had on our lunch break.

They also rumbled along the road outside my living room window. I spent Friday evening deuce-watching from the sofa, gleefully noting that the event known as Northwest Deuce Days brings a plethora of restored classics out of the garage. So much chrome, so many brilliant shades of wow! ... and the sound! That glorious, deep, rich, beautiful baritone grumbling purring roaring bellowing sound! No earplugs, please – if I’m going to lose my hearing, let it be to a vintage rod.

It’s the best weekend of the year.

On Saturday morning, I made sure the Canon was juiced for the deuce and took it over to Clover Point for the Poker Run parade. I found a plum spot at the crest of the hill and started snapping. Sure, I got my share of back ends and front bumpers, but eventually I got the hang of when to press the button. I came away with 55 photos worth keeping.

I may have deleted a few more than that, but my favourite rods stayed within the frame:

And when all was said and done, I would have taken this one home:

I know. Sue me.