I Take it All Back

I live in Canada’s Pacific Southwe(s)t, which we still refer to as part of the Pacific Northwest like our Seattle and Portland counterparts, when really it’s very central west coast North America. The title is a very lower-48 states American view, ignoring Alaska. We are in fact blessed with a temperate climate that provides year round motorcycling.

Despite my whining a couple of weeks ago, and even earlier, we are spoiled with the ability to ride mostly year round here. This week, the weather finally broke. I’m in fact writing this while sitting outside in 16°C weather, partly cloudy with patches of blue sky, enjoying the chirping of migrating birds and a cold drink. Along with the birds are the sounds of many motorcycles getting their first exercise of the year. It’s not hot, but it’s pleasant, and it’s the beginning of March. We often have decent enough weather that by mid-February, we have snowdrops and crocuses in full bloom, and by this time the first daffodils are coming up.

Even in the cold, as cold as -5°C, I saw the odd motorcycle out and about. My rule is 4°C, as that is when there is no threat of black ice. I saw bikes out when the roads were coated with calcium chloride, something I won’t torture my motorcycle with. I am generally pretty brave, but I won’t subject my bike to such a fate.

This week, however, the weather broke. It started to warm up, and we started to get the first heavy rains of early spring – the ones that wash the roads clean. These are monsoon-like, and I kept the bike tucked in the garage while the downpour continued, checking my weather apps (I slavishly check several). On Wednesday, there was still the prediction of some rain. Driving home Wednesday night, I kept thinking… “I should have taken the bike today!” I’ve had this remorse before, and suffer from it all too regularly, especially in the really good riding weather.

The next day I got up early, and went to the garage with my cup of coffee. I opened the garage door and put my key in the ignition, turned it, and the dash lit up. Excellent. Then I pressed the ignition, which struggled as it turned over, then stopped without catching. I looked at the gas gauge, and in my haste last year, I parked up without filling up, and only had 1/4 of a tank. Well, that should be OK.

I hit the button and cranked again. Without luck. And again, which started to catch, but then cut out. Maybe the fourth time is lucky? I hit the button, and it was. The motor slowly chugged to life, belching out some wispy grey smoke for 20 seconds before settling into a purr. Excellent. Now to the tires, which had sat for too long. Taking out my handy Ryobi tire inflator, I set to work.

Both my tires have 90° valve stems, which is a godsend. The rear tire’s stem was up near the top, set at about 11 o’clock, so easy to reach. Attach the nozzle, press the trigger, and watch the numbers rize on the digital read-out on the back of the inflator. Perfect. The front tire was a bit more finnicky, as the stem was right at 12 o’clock, meaning I had to waggle the nozzle in before I could snap the lock down, and making it just as difficult to remove. However, both tires were inflated in short order.

Next came the part that I was so excited for, while also dreading the most – the first ride. The rustiness. The tippyness. The feeling of being a bit out of practice. That was gone by my first corner. Visor up, wind in my face, and happy as anything, I commuted to work. When I walked into the office in my gear, a co-worker looked at me and said “Aha, a sure sign of spring!” And despite recent events, I parked in my former free parking spot; I did not get a ticket that day, and the ride home was exquisite. The next day, I rode to our satellite office and relished in the fantastic free, dedicated motorcycle parking.

Another bike just roared past my house. It’s so great, hearing the brethren out and about, and playing the “what bike was that” guessing game as it goes by. I love this time of year, almost as much as I love autumn, but this is somehow better – with the yearning of the warm days to come. Welcome, spring. I take all my bitching back.