I left for a late February ride to Hamilton, Ontario. 45 minutes away. Facebook said that one of my friends, let’s just call her The Hamilton Babe, was out riding her Honda CBR. This would be my first time leaving the city on my naked bike, a 1990 Honda Hawk GT, customized to high hell.
You need to understand that I’m a cruiser rider. I’ve never rode anything like this strange little wannabe sport bike I was on. Based on my limited experience I’d have to guess that CBR probably stands for Crotch-Busting Rocketship. I’ll ask the Hamilton Babe next time I see her.
My stripped down Hawk weighs less than 400 lbs and her rider falls in the “super featherweight” class. Today the wind gusts were around 50 km/hr. In American, that’s fast enough to send the Hawk and I from one side of our highway lane to the other. Struggling to adjust to each blast of wind, it was only a matter of time before I took an exit and turned back home.
Retreating to the shelter of a McDonald’s, my tail was tucked firmly between my legs. On this bike, over 100 lbs lighter and 9″ shorter in length than the last one I rode, I was a noobie once more. Mission aborted.
Shortly after beginning to try to make handwarmers out of french fries, my phone rang. We’ll just say Lady Luck was on the line. Lady Luck is a special kind of friend, one who does a much better job at warming you than french fries ever could.
So yes, my father is still very ill, the weather wasn’t cooperative, my speedometer stopped working, I didn’t make it out of town, and I haven’t seen The Hamilton Babe since Friday the 13th at Port Dover, but I wasn’t complaining.
Remember kids, when life throws you lemons, have a cocktail party.
Party pic by WobblyCat Photography.