Friday evening did not see me sweeping the roadway out front of my place. I took a little wander around the 'hood, checking out the condition and placement of the most aggregious dirt and gravel piles. I figured if I stuck to the centre of the roadway, I oughtta be good to go. I remembered the many gravel roads that I had travelled down over the years and reasoned that once you knew the stuff was there, the rest would not be a problem.
Saturday morning dawned with clouds racing across the sky, as I sat with my Honey, enjoying a cup of coffee. She was headed off to work fropm 0900 to 1500hrs and I was going to do some puttering around before I decided to head out. I threw a load of washing in, washed down the bike and took a shower myself, before trying to figure out what to wear for this season's first ride. It was 7 degrees out and would be climbing up to a high of 15 as the day wore on, or at least that's what Environment Canada was advertising. I finally settled on jeans and a light microfibre top, which produced incredible warmth. I would be wearing a set of black Joe Rocket ballistic nylon riding pants over the jeans and of course my matching jacket. The jacket does have a quilted liner but I still found myself wondering if this would be enough to keep me warm as I motored along the back roads. I decided to hit the pulleys and stretch out my arm for a few minutes, before heading out.
I had the battery tender hooked up to the bike as I busied myself with the various morning chores that I had assigned myself. I checked the tire pressure, front and back. Not surprisingly, the front tire was down by about 5 lbs. I topped her off and reinstalled the cap. I disconnected the battery tender and replaced the side cover. Following a last coat of Plexus on the windshield, it was time to get Baby packed for the road. Cell phone, camera, fanny pack neck wrap and ballcap were loaded into the port side saddlebag. Spare gauntlets and a Navy sweatshirt went into the starboard one. It was 1000hrs, time to go. I opened the garage door, straddled Baby and eased her out into the driveway, where I rested her on her jiffy stand. I dismounted, returned to the garage to lock the house up, don my jacket, lid and gloves and finally, close the garage door behind me. I mounted the bike and flicked her off the sidestand. Ignition on, jiffy stand up, thumb the starter and the throbbing of the big v-twin filled the air. I could feel a rush of excitement, anticipation surge through me. It never gets old...
I let her idle for a few seconds before backing her out into the street. I could feel the loose dirt and gravel underfoot as I back-pedalled her. Once in the middle of the road, I eased on the throttle and we were off. Sharp left, sharp right, sharp left... down to the first corner. Sharp right followed by yet another and we made our way up to Innes Road. The right-handed turns caused me a good deal of pain last year. This year? Nary a twinge. Things had gotten decidedly a lot better between then and now. I had to wait a few moments before making the sweeping left turn onto Innes. At this time of the day, the roads are filled with the Saturday crowds. Always a dangerous time to be anywhere near town. I couldn't wait to get out in the boonies.
I finally got my opening and found myself idling along in traffic. It felt really good. I knew that shortly I would be leaving the shopping throngs behind me and would have the relative isolation of country roads to look forward to. We made it to Mer Bleue, where I swung left at the light and headed South. I then took a right at Rigaud Road, which would lead me to the Anderson Road. This section of roadway was not the best. Still, I wanted to see how my shoulder would handle "less than perfect" riding conditions. By the time I reached Anderson Road, I decided to carry on back onto Innes and drop in to see my better half at work. I like for her to know if I'm out running the roads and where I might be headed. Kind of like filing a flight or sail plan. Should I fail to return, at least they'll know where to look.
We chatted for a bit and she wished me a pleasant (and safe...) ride. Wheeling out of her parking lot, I headed back to the Anderson Road. I kept the pace sedate, rarely straying past the 80kmh mark. We floated along quite content, the big mill purring beneath me and the pipes popping and burbling merrily when I rolled back the throttle. I dog-legged right onto Eighth Line Road, then left on the Ramsayville Road. Crossing over the little bridge, I decided I would take the Rideau Road this time. Might as well see how a bad road would feel...
Rideau Road was not as bad as I had anticipated. I was pleasantly surprised. I also marvelled how all the county roads were clear of gravel and other hazardous debris normally associated with early spring rides. Hitting the set of flashing lights halfway down the Rideau Road, I turned right onto County Road 19. This would lead me to the southern edge of the airport and eventually, Hunt Club Road. I had figured that I'd stop in at the local dealer's and see what was new as far as riding gear went. I had only one pair of dedicated, honest-to-God riding pants which fit me. The other pair (my trusty ICON Recon jeans...) had been cut off me at the OGH, after my unplanned get-off last July.
My remaining set of ICON riding pants are in a camo pattern and for reasons known only to civilians, my place of work has banned the wearing of clothing which is in a camouflage pattern. So it's not like they're banning the cut of the pants, or the style, or even the material they are made of... they're actually banning a colour. I know... Words fail me to describe this particular brand of mindlessness. You can walk in there wearing a pair of pink tights and someone's cock actually inside your mouth and nobody will say boo. BUT... you are not allowed to wear a fabric which simulates a military camouflage pattern. Civilians... God love 'em...
County Road 19 (also known as Limebank Road) proved to be almost more than what I had bargained for. There were a couple of instances where I was damn near jolted out of the saddle. I checked my speed, leaned forward in the saddle so that there was a generous bend in my elbows and made my grip on the bars feather light. This way, my entire body became one relaxed shock absorber, able to flow with the bike's motion as it bucked over the horrendously uneven road surface. This really gave my arm and shoulder a workout. I pulled into the Powersports parking lot, feeling more than ready for a rest. I remember telling myself how much of a jackass I was, as I dismounted. Ow-www.... I headed in and after trading niceties with the store manager (in my books, a punch in the arm is a nicety...), grabbed a can of pop and wandered around through the aisles.
There was certainly no shortage of good-looking, albeit scarily overpriced items, to look at. Their selection of riding jeans was embarassingly small, although they did have a very good sale on their riding overpants. 40% off is a good deal, no matter how you look at it. Still, nothing that turned my crank. No sweat... I knew that the local Suzuki dealer up the road (Ottawa Good Times Centre) always had a great selection of riding gear with more reasonable prices to boot. But I felt the back roads calling so I would put off my shopping for another day. I finished off my Coke and flashep up Baby. The sun was riding high by now and it was beautiful riding weather. We headed out of the parking lot and hung a left towards the lights at Hunt Club. I would take her down the River Road this time, right out to Timmie's in Manotick.
Befor I knew it, we were flowing along River Road. Traffic was non-existent and we had clear sailing ahead of us. We loped along at an easy 90kmh, the fluid curves of the road unfolding before us like a well-worn black ribbon. I revelled in simply being able to ride without pain. Not a care in the world. To be able to feel the wind and sun as we leaned and wheeled and swooped our way down the road. All too soon, we were pulling into Timmie's. I spied a couple of riders just removing their helmets as I turned in. I pulled in beside them and nodded as I leaned Baby over onto her jiffy stand. "Nice fuckin' day, what?", I smiled at them. They returned the greeting and we fell into an easy, familiar conversation about spring rides, the winter hiatus and our steeds themselves.
I left them momentarily to get a coffee inside. I met three more riders as I waited to get my double-double. Returning outside, another four had just pulled up. A Tim Horton's shop anywhere is always a magnet for riders. The one out in Manotick is no exception. We chatted about our rides and roads travelled, as I sipped slowly on my coffee. These spontaneous meetings are always a great bonus to the already rewarding world of riding. Baby loves all the attentiion she gets during these stops, but she was getting impatient. The road was calling and so having finished my Timmie's, we bade farewell to our new friends. I decided to wheel down Mitch Owens to rejoin the Ramsayville Road. I was tempted to strike out for Merrickville, but my Honey had warned me against doing so without her in tow. (She loves going there as much as I do...). That and I didn't have too much time left, if I wanted to be home to greet my working girl once she had finished her shift at 1500hrs.
I pulled into the driveway at 1445hrs on the nose. I felt good. I had pushed the envelope slightly by my choice of roads, but it had so been worth it. I'll probably be a little more sensible the next time out. We rounded off the evening by having supper at the Turkish Village restaurant on St.Joseph. Great Turkish food, served in a '70s kind of setting. The Turkish tea is a favorite of mine. A couple of movies topped off the evening, comfortably nestled in bed. All in all, pretty much a perfect kind of day...
Saturday morning dawned with clouds racing across the sky, as I sat with my Honey, enjoying a cup of coffee. She was headed off to work fropm 0900 to 1500hrs and I was going to do some puttering around before I decided to head out. I threw a load of washing in, washed down the bike and took a shower myself, before trying to figure out what to wear for this season's first ride. It was 7 degrees out and would be climbing up to a high of 15 as the day wore on, or at least that's what Environment Canada was advertising. I finally settled on jeans and a light microfibre top, which produced incredible warmth. I would be wearing a set of black Joe Rocket ballistic nylon riding pants over the jeans and of course my matching jacket. The jacket does have a quilted liner but I still found myself wondering if this would be enough to keep me warm as I motored along the back roads. I decided to hit the pulleys and stretch out my arm for a few minutes, before heading out.
I had the battery tender hooked up to the bike as I busied myself with the various morning chores that I had assigned myself. I checked the tire pressure, front and back. Not surprisingly, the front tire was down by about 5 lbs. I topped her off and reinstalled the cap. I disconnected the battery tender and replaced the side cover. Following a last coat of Plexus on the windshield, it was time to get Baby packed for the road. Cell phone, camera, fanny pack neck wrap and ballcap were loaded into the port side saddlebag. Spare gauntlets and a Navy sweatshirt went into the starboard one. It was 1000hrs, time to go. I opened the garage door, straddled Baby and eased her out into the driveway, where I rested her on her jiffy stand. I dismounted, returned to the garage to lock the house up, don my jacket, lid and gloves and finally, close the garage door behind me. I mounted the bike and flicked her off the sidestand. Ignition on, jiffy stand up, thumb the starter and the throbbing of the big v-twin filled the air. I could feel a rush of excitement, anticipation surge through me. It never gets old...
I let her idle for a few seconds before backing her out into the street. I could feel the loose dirt and gravel underfoot as I back-pedalled her. Once in the middle of the road, I eased on the throttle and we were off. Sharp left, sharp right, sharp left... down to the first corner. Sharp right followed by yet another and we made our way up to Innes Road. The right-handed turns caused me a good deal of pain last year. This year? Nary a twinge. Things had gotten decidedly a lot better between then and now. I had to wait a few moments before making the sweeping left turn onto Innes. At this time of the day, the roads are filled with the Saturday crowds. Always a dangerous time to be anywhere near town. I couldn't wait to get out in the boonies.
I finally got my opening and found myself idling along in traffic. It felt really good. I knew that shortly I would be leaving the shopping throngs behind me and would have the relative isolation of country roads to look forward to. We made it to Mer Bleue, where I swung left at the light and headed South. I then took a right at Rigaud Road, which would lead me to the Anderson Road. This section of roadway was not the best. Still, I wanted to see how my shoulder would handle "less than perfect" riding conditions. By the time I reached Anderson Road, I decided to carry on back onto Innes and drop in to see my better half at work. I like for her to know if I'm out running the roads and where I might be headed. Kind of like filing a flight or sail plan. Should I fail to return, at least they'll know where to look.
We chatted for a bit and she wished me a pleasant (and safe...) ride. Wheeling out of her parking lot, I headed back to the Anderson Road. I kept the pace sedate, rarely straying past the 80kmh mark. We floated along quite content, the big mill purring beneath me and the pipes popping and burbling merrily when I rolled back the throttle. I dog-legged right onto Eighth Line Road, then left on the Ramsayville Road. Crossing over the little bridge, I decided I would take the Rideau Road this time. Might as well see how a bad road would feel...
Rideau Road was not as bad as I had anticipated. I was pleasantly surprised. I also marvelled how all the county roads were clear of gravel and other hazardous debris normally associated with early spring rides. Hitting the set of flashing lights halfway down the Rideau Road, I turned right onto County Road 19. This would lead me to the southern edge of the airport and eventually, Hunt Club Road. I had figured that I'd stop in at the local dealer's and see what was new as far as riding gear went. I had only one pair of dedicated, honest-to-God riding pants which fit me. The other pair (my trusty ICON Recon jeans...) had been cut off me at the OGH, after my unplanned get-off last July.
My remaining set of ICON riding pants are in a camo pattern and for reasons known only to civilians, my place of work has banned the wearing of clothing which is in a camouflage pattern. So it's not like they're banning the cut of the pants, or the style, or even the material they are made of... they're actually banning a colour. I know... Words fail me to describe this particular brand of mindlessness. You can walk in there wearing a pair of pink tights and someone's cock actually inside your mouth and nobody will say boo. BUT... you are not allowed to wear a fabric which simulates a military camouflage pattern. Civilians... God love 'em...
County Road 19 (also known as Limebank Road) proved to be almost more than what I had bargained for. There were a couple of instances where I was damn near jolted out of the saddle. I checked my speed, leaned forward in the saddle so that there was a generous bend in my elbows and made my grip on the bars feather light. This way, my entire body became one relaxed shock absorber, able to flow with the bike's motion as it bucked over the horrendously uneven road surface. This really gave my arm and shoulder a workout. I pulled into the Powersports parking lot, feeling more than ready for a rest. I remember telling myself how much of a jackass I was, as I dismounted. Ow-www.... I headed in and after trading niceties with the store manager (in my books, a punch in the arm is a nicety...), grabbed a can of pop and wandered around through the aisles.
There was certainly no shortage of good-looking, albeit scarily overpriced items, to look at. Their selection of riding jeans was embarassingly small, although they did have a very good sale on their riding overpants. 40% off is a good deal, no matter how you look at it. Still, nothing that turned my crank. No sweat... I knew that the local Suzuki dealer up the road (Ottawa Good Times Centre) always had a great selection of riding gear with more reasonable prices to boot. But I felt the back roads calling so I would put off my shopping for another day. I finished off my Coke and flashep up Baby. The sun was riding high by now and it was beautiful riding weather. We headed out of the parking lot and hung a left towards the lights at Hunt Club. I would take her down the River Road this time, right out to Timmie's in Manotick.
Befor I knew it, we were flowing along River Road. Traffic was non-existent and we had clear sailing ahead of us. We loped along at an easy 90kmh, the fluid curves of the road unfolding before us like a well-worn black ribbon. I revelled in simply being able to ride without pain. Not a care in the world. To be able to feel the wind and sun as we leaned and wheeled and swooped our way down the road. All too soon, we were pulling into Timmie's. I spied a couple of riders just removing their helmets as I turned in. I pulled in beside them and nodded as I leaned Baby over onto her jiffy stand. "Nice fuckin' day, what?", I smiled at them. They returned the greeting and we fell into an easy, familiar conversation about spring rides, the winter hiatus and our steeds themselves.
I left them momentarily to get a coffee inside. I met three more riders as I waited to get my double-double. Returning outside, another four had just pulled up. A Tim Horton's shop anywhere is always a magnet for riders. The one out in Manotick is no exception. We chatted about our rides and roads travelled, as I sipped slowly on my coffee. These spontaneous meetings are always a great bonus to the already rewarding world of riding. Baby loves all the attentiion she gets during these stops, but she was getting impatient. The road was calling and so having finished my Timmie's, we bade farewell to our new friends. I decided to wheel down Mitch Owens to rejoin the Ramsayville Road. I was tempted to strike out for Merrickville, but my Honey had warned me against doing so without her in tow. (She loves going there as much as I do...). That and I didn't have too much time left, if I wanted to be home to greet my working girl once she had finished her shift at 1500hrs.
I pulled into the driveway at 1445hrs on the nose. I felt good. I had pushed the envelope slightly by my choice of roads, but it had so been worth it. I'll probably be a little more sensible the next time out. We rounded off the evening by having supper at the Turkish Village restaurant on St.Joseph. Great Turkish food, served in a '70s kind of setting. The Turkish tea is a favorite of mine. A couple of movies topped off the evening, comfortably nestled in bed. All in all, pretty much a perfect kind of day...
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