Wintertime is the time for dreaming…

There was a time when my motorcycle never got put away for winter. I rode 12 months a year. Well, I rode for at least one day each month 12 months a year. Some winters were mild, and I rode often. Others produced ice and snow on a regular basis, and I was hard pressed to find even one day to ride. But for 10 years I managed to get out for at least one day every month. 120 months of consecutive riding. I had a self-imposed rule that the ride had to be at least 10kms to count - a quick ride around the block didn’t cut it!

Two words - Heated Gear. There is no substitute.

But since my deer avoidance crash of 2024, I have been forbidden from riding in the winter. A small concession to keep peace in the household. Here in the Toronto corner of the Great White North, the city uses salt to help keep the roads clear. A terrible practice, and bad for all vehicles. Frankly, having to wash my bike after each salty ride was a pain, though more than compensated for by the joy of riding.

So what is a poor, housebound motorcyclist to do in the long, cold winter?

I sometimes (ok, often) go out to peel back the covers on my motorcycles, just to look at them fondly, imagining where they’ll take me when spring finally springs. My wife has caught me staring, glassy-eyed, as I remember the feeling of riding. She asks: “How can you stand out here in the cold for so long, just looking at your bikes?”

Albert Camus wrote: "In the depth of winter, I finally learned that within me there lay an invincible summer.”

In the darkness of a cold garage, it’s our dreams that keep us warm.