The Friday Fillip: Friday the 13th
On this very date less than half a dozen summers ago I was lucky enough to be part of a group of volunteer roadies setting up a rock and roll concert in a big field in a small town. Steppenwolf with John Kay was to be the headliner, followed by a string of other bands. The air was hot, the buzz building, the Patrón Tequila folks had arrived, things that needed doing were getting done, and even lowly gofers like me were touching the electric hem of showtime excitement.
This would have been enough of a kick for me, at least. But added to the carnival was the fact that, as it is today, July 13 back then was a Friday the 13th. And we were in Port Dover Ontario. Big whoop, right? What you need to know is that this small, sleepy town on the shore of Lake Erie otherwise famous for decent lake perch turns into biker heaven (or hell) every single Friday the 13th. On a good summer such day the village can swell with more than 100,000 visitors and their hogs. The roads are closed to automobiles — bikes only, in and out; residents have to get special passes to use their cars — businesses of every size and description spring up to hawk wares; and the bikes, the bikes pour in from all over North America.
If you’re reading this today and want to get a feel for the noise and the genial confusion, have a look at the live video web cams facing north and south on Main Street. What makes the memory of all this even more marked for me is the fact that as a gofer I was sent from the park into town a number of times to fetch things; and to make the trips I was given the use of — not a Harley, alas, but a… golf cart. So there I am tooting my polite little beeper and weaving through the packs of leather-clad road warriors in my “Hardly” — gathering grins and the occasional high-five.
What’s so special about Friday the 13th? Why do some people think it’s unlucky (or evil, which is why the bikers chose it originally, I imagine)? Wikipedia has a good piece on it but none of the explanations are entirely convincing. Of course, the date marries our culture’s superstition that 13 is an unlucky number with an older and much faded superstition that Friday is an unlucky day (TGINF?). For me, the most interesting part of the Wikipedia article, however, is the part that lays out how Fridays the 13th move through the calendar. Apparently it runs on a 28 year cycle and — here’s the money fact — “[e]very month that begins on a Sunday will contain a Friday the 13th.” There will always be at least one Friday the 13th in each calendar year, but there can be a stretch without one as long as 14 months. And, for a final take-away fact, “[t]he 13th day of the month is slightly more likely to be a Friday than any other day of the week.”
Good luck.
The bad luck number in Chinese is 4, I gather because of a similarity between the way it is written in Chinese and the word ‘death’. I was in a Chinese-built office building in Hanoi recently that did not have a floor numbered four or fourteen, though it had a 13th. (It didn’t get as high as 24.) By contrast, the international hotel I stayed at lacked a floor numbered 13. Each to his or her own superstition.
No wonder Port Dover has been reeling – there were 3 Friday 13ths this year, January, April and July.
I was travelling in the region on Thursday and Friday and it is a sight to behold. I was amazed at the courteousness, friendliness and orderliness of the group. In a Tim Horton’s, I was encouraged to move up the line if I was in a rush and needed to get back to work. They were speed compliant on the roads and highways. That worked for them because they could pass but there was never space for cars to pass, as we are not as agile as bikes, to get in the space between traffic flow. Traffic was endless in all directions.
I wasn’t brave enough to try Port Dover, but hope one day one of my harley friends might invite me for a ride on a Friday the 13th.