Not so Easy Rider: Yippee, Yippee, Yip.

It is April 1, April Fool’s Day and I guess I could be labeled accordingly. I am standing in the foyer of Barrie Harley Davidson at 5.30 in the afternoon taking delivery of my motorcycle from winter storage, it is 5 degrees or thereabouts. Still the weather forecast looks like after a cool Thursday, Friday, Good Friday no less, may deliver up a few hours of decent motorcycling weather. It would appear that I am not the only fool in these parts, as fetching motorcycles from winter storage is a popular activity today. I have heard the lovely, dulcet tones of v-twins around the neighborhood over the past few days, and caught the odd glimpse of an intrepid biker. The reason why I suggest we are fools is because spring may be sprung in many parts of the Northern Hemisphere, it has not yet done so here. No sir, no sprung spring to be found in Canada, (except maybe for the coastal region of British Columbia, where it is warm but wet). Still I am dressed in layers and wearing the raingear green regalia, the sun is shining a sort of, watery cheer through some wispy cloud and the Boulevard is shiny and clean, tyres pumped, battery charged and waiting for me to climb on. What more could a chap ask for?

Black is black, I got my baby back... Oh yeah.

I am clearly out of practice, and put my helmet down on the concrete paving upside down, scratching the visor with a long vertical line down the middle. Man I am so annoyed with myself. That scratch is going to irritate me every time a wear the thing until I buy a new one, I cannot fathom why I did that. I’m also not used to all the layers and feel like the Michelin Man, but once I am on the bike everything just falls into place. Yippee, Yippee, Yip! I have heard it said that there is nothing as good for the inside of a person as the outside of a good horse, which may be so, but as my ass makes contact with that motorcycle saddle the world suddenly seems to be a better place.

I take it easy as I ride out into the road, letting things warm up and getting the lubricants to all the places they are supposed to be, motorcycle wise, of course. Ok, I’m just spit-balling here, I’m an accountant and not a mechanic and really have no clue what I am talking about, but somehow running her gently seems like a good idea. Actually the motor seems to be running a little ropey, not quite misfiring, but everything is not jelling as it should. There is a service in the very near future and I guess the fuel stabilizer and 5 months without the motor running would have some effect. Anyway as I progress down the road I imagine that things get better, the gunk gets shot out the exhaust. I head down Highway 27, for now avoiding the motorway, neither of us is ready for that balls-to-the wall experience. It is fairly busy, commuter traffic, mostly heading north in the opposite direction to where I am going. Now and then I open the throttle a bit and the Boulevard responds like a race horse, I like it, oh yes I do. When I reach the turn-off to go home I find that I am quite unable to make the turn, it is as if the Boulevard decides things for itself, we ride a detour down to King City following Weston Road, then head back north on Jane street. I’m home by 6.45… supper then do some work until 10 p.m. – I need to pay the piper.

Good Friday arrives, I wake up to the sound of birdsong and open the blinds to a sunny morning. The mercury registers not very far above zero. The weather report has downgraded the outlook for the weekend considerably, but today is going to be ok, at least until this evening, it is expecting to hit 10 Celsius by midday, then steadily drop. Precipitation tonight, rain, maybe snow or ice pellets, this time of year one just does not know, management is quite fucked up, frozen yogurt falling from the skies would not surprise me. I plan to head out at midday so spend the morning doing a run-walk-run for a few kilometers along the Holland River trail, then walk the Dachshunds around Fairy Lake with my prettier half. The birds are on the wing, there is pairing off and nest building, avian sex is going on and the folks of Newmarket are walking/running/pushing strollers/dog walking/roller-skating/cycling/etc. on the trail, spring is promised, but just a promise so far.

I swear if you look closely there are buds!

I leave the house at about 12.30, I have some layers on, but it is warm enough to leave the raingear in the side boxes. The idea is to follow an old familiar route, around Lake Simcoe and Lake Couchiching, a round trip of about 230 km. Nice little warm up for the season. The first stretch is a dash up Highway 404 to where it ends just before Ravenshoe Rd, nice chance to shake off the cobwebs. I take Ravenshoe travelling east towards the hamlet of Udora. There is still plenty of snow on the ground and ice on top of pools that have formed, the land is waterlogged and frozen only a few inches down. Predominate colors are still dirty olive green, brown and grey. Nonetheless there is a sense that at the very least spring is coiled to be sprung, I can see that buds are forming and here and there a green shoot peaks out from under the gloom. The roads are lousy with loose gravel and winter damage, cornering is a careful undertaking, but I manage to take a few nice twisties at a reasonable speed, the not-so-easy rider is back and loving it!

Waterlogged and icy

From Udora I head north to Beaverton, then follow the shore of Lake Simcoe, cottage country, however Simcoe is still frozen solid. I guess not solid enough for ice fishing (weird pastime), but the breeze that blows off the lake is really, really cold. Here on the lake shore it is still mid-winter. Lake Simcoe is an interesting piece of water very close to where I live, actually the Holland River that I ran next to this morning is one of the rivers that feeds it. It is quite large, not great lake scale of course, but there are points that you can stand on the edge and not see the other side, altogether it is about 722 square km, a fair sized slab of ice! There is one city and several towns on its shores and riding around it is a pretty decent ride. I stop for gas, get a cup of tea, take a pee and decide that it might now be cold enough to don the raingear. Lake Simcoe was originally known as Lake Toronto (well by us whities of course, the Indians called it something else, but we pronounced it “Toronto” which referred to the weirs made by the Indians in the narrows between Lake Simcoe and Lake Couchiching to catch fish). This name was transferred to the city that grew up on the shores of Lake Ontario, so Sir John Graves Simcoe named the lake, “Simcoe", in 1793, ostensibly after his father… a likely tale if you ask me.

Spring on the shores of Lake Simcoe

Anyone for Hockey?

Just before Orillia I take Rama Road north to follow the shore of Lake Couchiching to Washago, though I only get to glimpse this lake, also frozen, a few times. Rama Road takes me through the Indian reservation of Rama. The smoke shops are closed, I am not sure if this is seasonal or Good Friday, but the casino seems to be open. Mmmm, I would venture a guess that a certain Nazarene, who didn’t have quite such a great Friday some time ago, would not be amused. Be that as it may, no bolts of lightning come down and I leave the gamblers to their business. At Washago I take highway 11 south towards Barrie and ultimately home. By now the clouds have gathered and it looks like rain (or worse) is on the cards sooner than expected. I am very glad of the raingear, it keeps me warm even though I am travelling at 120-150 km/h and if the rain comes down at least I will be protected.

Highway 11 gives way to Highway 400, the traffic is moving at 130 km/h but the pavement is in terrible condition, cracks and potholes. This stretch of road was under construction last year and I haven’t been on it since then. Honestly, I can see no progress whatsoever, it is no longer under construction, but just as broken and crappy as before. WTF! Have the guys with the hard hats and orange vests merely been drinking tea? Really. Time for a short rant. I have never seen such a useless, wasteful industry as the construction industry in Canada, at least when it comes to government (federal, provincial or local) contracts. There needs to be a few public hangings. Here in the City of Newmarket, one of the major arterial roads has been under massive re-construction to add bus lanes and bus shelters for four years (yes that reads four years) and it is still nowhere near completion. My heart goes out to the many small businesses situated on Davis Drive that have gone bust or are hanging on by their fingernails. Another example is Toronto Union Station construction, still going strong and no sign of ending, four years on the go at least. I tell you public hangings are needed. We long suffering taxpayers and members of the public can sit around in the middle of the construction site fiascos, drink beer and knit sweaters while the useless and/or corrupt sods responsible for the mess are brought out and hanged from a gibbet, then we’ll see how fast the new appointees get the job done. Lickety-bloody-split, guaranteed.

The reality: