Jeep Motototing South

Over the winter we got whacked by a snow plough and the insurance rental ended up being a Jeep Wrangler 4 door. I worked in an automotive shop to pay for university and Jeeps usually involved bringing an umbrella with you because they leaked so much, but this 2019 model has evolved from that poorly made thing. The mileage was better than I thought it would be for a big six cylinder, but I also discovered they come with an even more efficient turbo four that manages mid-20s MPG.

While we had it I stuck it in four wheel drive and went over a mountain of snow in a parking lot that would have beached anything else - and it did it on all season tires! At another point I had to take about 1500lbs of ewaste out of the school I work at and the Jeep swallowed it all with ease and it didn't even seem to strain the suspension. On one particularly snowy night in an empty parking lot I four wheel drifted it and it felt surprisingly obliging doing something that athletic. I found the size of it also a nice surprise. I have to fold myself into the Mazda we have, but the Jeep felt like it fit.

What surprised me most about it was that it was genuinely enjoyable to drive.  Initially I found myself fighting the big wheels on the road, but once I came to trust the different driving dynamics of the thing I found it a comfortable long distance coverer.  Being up higher means I'm not getting all the slush in the face, which is nice too.  We never got to try the roof-removing modular nature of it because it was freezing, but that's another feather in its hat.  I've been four wheeling in a tiny hatchback for so long that driving just feels like tedium.  The Wrangler made driving feel like an event instead of just a necessity.

With that all swirling around in my head, I first looked up the Wrangler and found it cost sixty grand, which is ridiculous, but that turned out to be a leather clad special edition thing.  The one I'd be looking at comes in at about forty grand, about the same as our last car, and there are big discounts on them at the moment.  They've got one with all the needed options on for about $41K nearby.

Knowing how this thing handles loads, I started looking up bike hauling options with them.  MotoTote has a 600 pound trailer hitch mounted motorcycle carrier that the Jeep could easily manage for $569 (I'm assuming that's USD - so about $780CAD).  Also knowing its go anywhere cred and how big it is on the inside, I had images of my son and I taking it camping and off-roading.  A trailer with ATV and dirt bike on it would do us well.  Parking up in the wilderness and then camping out of the thing seems like a real possibility.  The Jeep's outdoor image means there is a rich aftermarket of related products, even roof mounted tents, though it doesn't need them.  The fold flat rear seats open up a massive back space that two sleeping bags could easily fit in.  A back attached tent makes a bit more sense in that case.

It's a cool thing that could make the long wished for trip south in the winter a possibility.

A Cure For Your Insanity Part 1: East Across Ontario

Due to financial constraints and various responsibilities I'd almost talked myself out of going to visit an old friend (we've known each other since he was 13) at his 50th birthday party last weekend, but I'm so glad I didn't.  Seeing the old faces and catching up was brilliant, but so was the chance to be out in the wind for days on my bike.  Sometimes it takes stepping away from your place in the world to gain the perspective you need to better understand it.

I left on a Friday morning as the sun beat down and temperatures started to rise.  I'd intended to take the Kawasaki but it picked up a flat last week and replacement tire isn't in yet so I turned to the trusty nearly 20 year old/84k Triumph Tiger to take me away.  Following standard GTA avoidance protocols I headed east instead of south to the crowded and manic highways of Toronto, which Google Maps always prompts me towards (getting there five minutes sooner is much more important than your mental health!).  Other than a traffic light in Centre Wellington not seeing me waiting (they're quick to road-tax me but slow to recognize motorcycles as a vehicle - I ended up putting the kickstand down and running over to the pedestrian button to change the light), it was clear sailing out of my increasingly crowded and poorly infrastructured home county.

Riding into the rising sun I made good time until I hit Newmarket, which was all poorly timed traffic lights and frantic citiots rushing to get one car ahead.  I was going to stop for a coffee but nothing presented itself in the strip-mall cookie-cutter desert of GTA expansion and rather than grate on about wearing masks all the time I preferred to just avoid the masses, so I pressed on out the other side and back into the country, except the country is now plastered with gravel trucks grumbling in and out of construction sites to build more housing for the ever expanding Greater Toronto Area.

I'd been on the road about two hours when I rounded the end of Lake Scugog on the Port Perry causeway and pressed on towards Peterborough.  At a four way intersection someone in a trophy truck (top of the line full-sized pickup with bling wheels and chrome that will never do a day of work in its life) ran the red light making a right hand turn in front of me.  I edged over in my lane ready to do something more drastic but he stopped.  The lead rider in a gaggle of Harleys coming the other way started making angry monkey gestures because he felt that I was encroaching on his lane (which he was cutting the corner on).  It's one of those things about riding in the insanity of Southern Ontario: everyone is very keen to tell you what you should be doing rather than making better decisions themselves.

I pushed on, hoping to get beyond the gravitational suck of Toronto driving culture.  Construction on the highway into Peterborough slowed things up again as people in massive SUVs rushed up the soon to be closed left hand lane to get a few cars ahead (and cause miles of backup), but if you're not driving a massive SUV and butting in line you're not doing it right.

Finally on Highway 7, I continued east toward Ottawa aiming for the Iron Rooster about halfway along the day one map.  Traffic thinned out and everyone settled into a less manic rush as the (sh)city fell behind.  After a stop in Marmora for gas I didn't really need but a stretch I did, I rolled on to the Iron Rooster for lunch.  I haven't seen any Ontario Provincial Police presence in my community for weeks, but on Hwy 7 there were multi-car speed traps set up every 300 feet or so.  By the time I stopped for lunch I'd seen over 20 police vehicles.  By the time I got to Osgoode (south of Ottawa) the number was over 50.  It's nice to know that the OPP is focused on bonus tax collection and making sure the insurance industry is getting its pound of flesh rather than looking after the communities it claims to police.

The Iron Rooster is a cool spot right off the highway with a big parking lot and indoor/outdoor seating that helps ease any covid anxieties (they roll up multiple doors to make the inside outside).  The entire place is motorcycle themed and specializes in rotisserie chicken in various sandwiches.  That focus makes for good food and I enjoyed "The Rossi" which was a "Rotisserie chicken tossed in pesto mayo with tomato, avocado and havarti cheese" on a toasted brioche bun, locally cut fries too, nice!

Moto-inspired philosophy on the wall...

A wee museum with some interesting old bikes in it and the walls covered in posters including everything from The Great Escape to On Any Sunday and Easy Rider - it was a great stop!

A 1918 BSA!

Coming out of the restaurant I ran into three native women who were out for a ride on their Indian motorcycles.  One of the nice things about riding is that it tends to remove the social barriers that prevent us from talking to each other.  We struck up a conversation about our bikes and I asked them if the name bothered them and they shrugged, saying it was a historical brand and they liked how the company represented their culture, and they loved the bikes (all three were on variations of Indian Scouts).  We then had a good talk about why we enjoyed riding so much.  Being out in the world on a bike puts you in touch with the thermoclines you're passing through and we all dug that you can feel the air and smell the smells when out in the wind; it puts you in touch with Turtle Island.

A distance was starting to form in my mind from where I've been feeling stuck in the village we moved into that is rapidly being converted into an urban subdivision.  As I rode away from the Rooster with a full stomach and some perspective, the old bones of the earth started to appear in the form of the Canadian Shield, poking up between pines and lakes (if you could see past all the police parked on the side of the road).

I had the smartphone clamped on the handlebars and when it wasn't barking instructions at me it was flashing speed trap warnings.  I used to drive Highway 7 quite often when I lived in Ottawa and the lakes, woods and stony Shield were always my favourite parts of the drive.  Fast food restaurants now litter the route and the prettiness is being chased away by an influx of people.  Those chain restaurants have done a good job of chasing small town diners out of business as well.  One of the magical things about urban expansion is that everywhere starts to look the same after a while.

Traffic was light and I made the occasional pass, but between the police blitz and volume of traffic, Highway 7 isn't the picturesque alternative to the 401 that it once was.  I wasn't in a rush to get to Osgoode but I found the smartphone's manic attention getting behaviour exhausting and when I did occasionally see a place I might stop it I found myself pushing on to keep to with the schedule Google had decided for me.  I finally turned it off and found I could enjoy the scenery and the ride more without all that noise.

Six and a half hours in I stopped in Perth to hang the phone back up and guide me in to Osgoode.  I rode past a the only non-franchise local coffee shop I'd seen on the entire ride because it was neck deep in construction and the phone was barking alternatives at me all through town.  As the sun started to stretch out the shadows I made my way into Osgoode on back roads and finally to a friend's place I could stop at for the night.

The ride east was enlightening and it started a process that has me rethinking many of the habits I've fallen into because of where I live.  There is a manic oneupmanship that is a central tenet of Southern Ontario driving culture, and it's something that makes everyone who buys into it supremely unhappy and stressed.  Getting one car ahead, even if it's wasteful and potentially dangerous is everyone's goal.

From many miles away I was thinking back to where I live as I rode the final miles of this Friday across Ontario.  Construction noises start before 7am every day.  Sitting outside for a morning coffee has you surrounded by the stucato gun shots of nail guns in the new housing division next to us harmonizing with layers of beeping from various heavy equipment backing up again and again.  This morning that was eventually drowned out by our neighbour's professional lawn service getting their industrial grade (helicopter-loud) lawn mower out (at 7:30 in the morning) to trim their golf-course perfect lawn.  With that never ending noise, dust and with thousands of new people moving into the area, my quiet village is no longer either of those things.  Looking back on it from that great distance across the province I wondered if I'm holding on too tight to something that simply isn't there any more.

Part 2

Part 3

Zero Sum Game: motorcycle restoration as a hobby

The Fireblade project motorcycle has moved on to its next owner.  It had been sitting in a garage for the better part of a decade before I got my hands on it; the result of a bitter divorce.  The fuel system was shot and had dumped gas into the engine.  It had just over twenty-five thousand kilometres on it, but hadn't been used in a long time.

Over the winter of 2019/20 I rebuilt the carburetors, resealed and sorted the fuel tank and got a new petcock, all of which conspired to put the otherwise eager Honda back on the road again.  When I checked the valves they were exactly in the middle of spec and some of the cleanest internal parts I've ever seen (thanks to the gasoline in the engine?).

Once the fuel system was sorted and the bike had a few sympathetic oil changes and other maintenance addressed (like new tires and a K&N air filter), it was licensed and put on the road where it performed flawlessly for a year.  When I sold it the odometer read just over twenty-seven thousand kilometres, so two thousand of them were mine.

The 'Blade was a lovely device.  If I didn't live in such a tedious place and ride-on track days were a possibility (they aren't anywhere in Ontario - the rare track-days that do exist are for rich people who trailer in race prepped bikes), I'd have hung on to this remarkable thing and let it do what it does best: explore the more extreme limits of motorcycling dynamics.

Trying to do that on the road makes no sense.  Ontario's roads are in atrocious shape thanks to our brutal seasons and lack of sane governance.  If you can find a piece that isn't falling to pieces, it's arrow straight because Southwestern Ontario is also geologically tedious.  We had a Californian trip a few years ago and drove up to Palomar Observatory outside of San Diego in the mountains.  Those are twelve miles of the most technically demanding roads I've ever seen.  That I had to drive them in a rented Toyota RAV4 is a crying shame.  If I lived anywhere near roads like that, owning the Fireblade would make some kind of sense, but I don't.

In our tedious, conservative province, this Honda Fireblade makes as much sense as owning a lion.  In three seconds it can take you from a standstill to jail time.  I only just discovered what happens to it at 8000RPM the week before I sold it.  Up until then I was astonished at how quickly it accelerated, but if you keep it cracked the madness becomes otherworldly.  The Honda Fireblade's athletic abilities make it a perilously expensive proposition in our police state and there is nowhere you can let it off leash to do what it was designed for (without buying a truck and trailer and stripping it back to being a race bike).

I was hoping to put racing stripes on it and really do it up, but then you have trouble selling it around
here where individualism is frowned upon.  Am I sad to see it go?  I honestly wrestled with the idea of waving off the buyer and keeping it, but instead decided to aim my limited space  toward another bike that would not only be more generally useful in the bland vastness of southwestern Ontario, but would also make me a better dad; the Fireblade is an inherently selfish thing.

If Practical Sportsbikes thinks it's the number one 90s
sportsbike, then it is! They helped me sort out the fuel system!

I bought the sidelined 'Blade for $1000 and then paid an extra hundred to get it delivered to me.  The new tires ($400) and a set of replacement carbs ($250) that I mainly needed to replace hard parts, along with the carb kit and other rubber replacement parts as well as multiple oil changes and filters, and some replacement LED lights for the broken stock ones, pushed my cost for the bike up to about $2000.

It cost me $500 for insurance for the year - mainly because I don't think my company (who doesn't usually do bikes but do mine because I've been with them for over 30 years) didn't realize what it was.  I sold the bike for $2500 as is, though it's currently fully operational and road legal, which means I got to ride the best bike of its generation and something I wished I'd owned in university when I was younger, fitter and more flexible for no cost.

That (of course) doesn't consider my time, but this is a hobby and if I can make it a zero sum hobby then I'm much less likely to feel guilty about it.  I'm going to miss the Fireblade, it was a lovely thing that spoke to me.  Having a 23 year old Japanese super-model whispering in your ear as you ride along was thrilling and I'm going to miss it.  Should I eventually find myself living somewhere where a sportsbike makes some kind of sense and where I can exercise it as intended on a track, I'll be quick to rejoin the tribe.

***********************************

In the meantime I contacted a fellow in Toronto who has a latest-generation Kawasaki Concours 14 that he couldn't sell in the fall (I was in-line but the 'Blade failed to sell so I didn't go for it).  He still has the Concours and we're lining up a cash sale for next weekend.  My first three bikes were Kawasakis and this would be my second Concours.  I've owned a first gen C-10 and my son and I rode a first gen C-14 through the Superstition Mountains in Arizona, but this one's a gen-2 C-14 Concours, which makes it one of the only bikes out there that can comfortably carry my now-adult-sized son and I two up.

I've always been drawn to Kawasaki engineering and I like their style.  This one is very low mileage (only about 30k) and needs some TLC (the owner is older and dropped it while stationary which is why he's moving it on).  Once sorted this Connie will have a lot of life left in it.

What makes it particularly useful to me is that it's a capable sport-touring machine that's built like a brick shit house, can cover the endless miles we face in Canada and can still entertain in the corners.  It also happens to be powered by the same motor that drives the ZX-14R hyperbike.  It may sound juvenile but I grew up in the 1980s and they had me at Testarossa strakes!

One of the side benefits of Concours ownership is that they have one of the most active and engaging clubs around: the mighty COG (Concours Owners Group).  I got stickered and t-shirted up with them as a full member when I got my first Connie, but have since been exploring other bikes.  I'm looking forward to re-engaging with them when I'm a Concours owner again.

Kawasaki Heavy Industries has weight in Japan!

The Desperate American Cruiser

I've been reading Inside Motorcycles, Canada's Source for Motorcycle News.  Their February/March 2015 issue has an article that underlines the desperation of the American cruiser.

In it they describe the Victory Gunner as over-priced, unable to corner and smooth.  They then go on to say, "...the Gunner is a bruiser, built to lurk about town striking fear into all those fancy Euro and Japanese machines."

If 'fancy' is code for motorcycles that can go around corners and out handle this 'bruiser' in every way, then I'll go with fancy.  My tiny Ninja 650r with only 37% of the Gunner's displacement, and not even a full on sport bike will trash this 'bruiser' in any straight line competition, and it corners nicely too.  It costs less on gas, less on insurance and looks fantastic.  I'll bet it'll have less maintenance headaches too.  So far, 'fancy' is looking pretty sensible.  

I'm not sure what the Victory Gunner is bruising (other than its rider's tailbone), but Inside Motorcycles has managed to clearly highlight the desperate, reaching nature of the American Cruiser in one short piece.  This 'bruiser' is a pretty boy who is designed to make its rider feel like a dude, but not ride like one.

I welcome this 'brusier' appearing out of the shadows and attempting to strike fear into my 'fancy' (and significantly cheaper) Japanese bike.  I will be sure to reserve a little pity for the mediocre guy on the 'cool' bike who desperately hopes it's working for him.

A big ask

After wandering around the NAIMs the one motorcycle wish I had was RACER5.  I had a nice chat with the people running the stand and after seeing that, a weekend in the summer getting my race license would be the most awesome May/June or early July weekend birthday present I could think of.

They run the three day course at Grand Bend Motorplex on little Hondas.  You get lots of track time and classroom support.  By the end of the course you get your racing license.  Watching how they set up the bikes would also be handy as I'd eventually like to build my own track bike.

They also offer kit rentals, so I could get a good idea of what size I'd need as well as how racing gear fits.

The race focus would allow me to explore riding dynamics at an advanced level on a closed track.  I'd be able to bring that knowledge back to my riding on the road.  As a form of insurance, it might well save me a lot of grief.

It's a big ask, but it would make one hell of a birthday present.  I wonder if any other bikers I know would be interested.

Road Trip Insanity

Over thirteen hundred kilometres in two days? Bring the pain!

I'm still looking for a DRZ-400.  I just found one way up in Thunder Bay.  Here's a stupid but interesting idea:  fly up Friday, pick up the bike Saturday morning and ride it home by Sunday night.

Leave Saturday morning from Thunder Bay and trace the north shore of Gitchegumee to Sault Ste. Marie where I'd overnight Saturday after my first nearly 700km day.

Sunday morning would have me up early to tackle the final 650kms home.  At least I'd be able to pass out on the ferry from Manitoulin to Tobermory.

Insane?  Probably, especially on a 400cc dual sport bike mainly designed for the dirt, but that's also what would make it interesting.

Pearson to Thunder Bay late on a Friday night, about three hundred bucks

It's nearly June and they are still below zero overnight in Thunder Bay, so it'd be a bag of layers I'd be bringing up with me.  The riding temperature range may go from around zero all the way up into the thirties, so flexibility is key!  A water proof duffel bag for the back of the bike would work as carry on luggage and a universal way to carry gear on the bike.

In that bag I'd chuck a helmet and goggles, a face scarf, motorcycle jacket, pants and rain gear.  I'd wear bike boots onto the plane.  Repair wise I'd bring a mini tool kit and some chain lube.  Clothing would have to be everything from polar fleece to thin cotton to cover the possible temperatures.

A nice, clean, low km bike ready for an insane trip home?

It's buying an unknown bike from a stranger, though this particular one is low kms and looks very well looked after.  There are things I could do to ensure the bike is ready to go.  With some emails between the seller I think I could convince them to prep the bike for the trip as part of the purchase price.  I'm not sure about the legal requirements but if they safety it and scan it to me I could appear up there with plates, ownership and insurance ready to go.

So what would this buy-a-bike-instant-road-trip insanity cost?  They are asking $3500 for this '07 Suzuki with 14,000kms on it.  I'd be ok with the asking price if it includes the safety and prep for the return trip.  On top of that I'm looking at about $300 for the flight up there, $300 for hotels on the way back down and sundry costs (gas, food, ferry, etc).  Lets say another $300.  Forty four hundred bucks for the DRZ I'm looking for and an insane road trip to boot from The North?  Sounds like a fun weekend!

If I had more disposable income I'd be dangerous!

A Cure For Your Insanity Part 3: Getting Lost and Finding Myself in North Eastern Ontario

Mapping it old-school in Calabogie.  Having to stop and
do this throughout the day resulted in a much more 
enjoyable ride.

 Ottawa isn't quite as manic as the GTA when it comes to driving culture, probably because it's a fraction of the size.  I didn't see the intentional assholery that GTA drivers seem to revel in.  That used to be arms-reach from us out in the country where I live, but thanks to COVID and rich people speculating on the real estate market, there has been a cidiot diaspora to my neck of the wooks and aggressive driving is the new norm on our country roads.

The 417 out of Ottawa at noon on Sunday was thrumming along at 130+kms/hr.  I kept to a steady 120 on the inside lane and was passed with regularity.  When we were in Alberta in July I noted that the speed limits are set reasonably without clinging to 1970s limits designed to generate revenue and justify more police.  The 110kms/hr on the highway had everyone moving at about 110kms/hr.  The 100 limit on country roads was the same with no one blowing beyond as has become common on our backroads.  Ontario's artificially low limits (and then the intentional ignoring of them until the police and insurance industry feel like making it rain) produces a kind of cognitive dissonance in Ontario drivers.  They know the limits don't mean anything and tend to drive however fast their vehicle feels good at, which in a modern vehicle with advanced tires, anti-lock brakes and computerized suspension and engines is much faster than the limits set for woody wagons in the '70s.

Once off the madness that is Ontario's 400 series highway system things settled down and I fell into a nice rhythm on the 508.  I usually have to ride miles to find a corner (and corner) where I live in the tedious S.W. Ontario agricultural desert.  Speaking of which, I was struggling to understand why my visor wasn't plastered in bugs while riding through Eastern Ontario woods, but it's the lack of factory-farmed livestock.  Those closely packed animals generate more flies than meat.  When you're not always passing by fowl (sp!) smelling chicken manufacturing facilities or cow paddy strewn fields, there aren't the kinds of flies that knock your lid off.  I didn't have to stop and clean my visor once on these rides, and being able to ride roads where the corners keep finding you instead of the other way around is like water after days in the desert.  Since all the OPP are on Highway 7, there wasn't a one of them on any of the roads up this way (speed traps aren't about safety, they're about income generation - there's no money in setting up speed traps on quiet roads).

No one sells pens anymore (the Canadian Tire had none even with school starting up in a couple of weeks), but I found some sharpie markers in Calabogie's McGregor's Produce, which is a general store that has pretty much everything in it (with a fraction of the footprint of the city-sized Canadian Tire).

It was another sun drenched day, though the shadows from the trees takes the sting out of it, unlike the concrete oven than urban areas turn into.  I got the map folded to where I was and markered out a route that took me on the twistiest roads I could find over to Bancroft where I would spend the night.

I hadn't figured out how to hot-key the 360 camera to auto-fire shots so there are no photos from this glorious day, but perhaps this is as it should be.  Google didn't know where I was and I had to engage my atrophied brain to remember the route, but the map was only a stop away.  Instead of constantly aiming at the next waypoint and having the phone barking directions and corrections and other information that I didn't need (while tracking my progress to offer timely advertising), I was untethered.

I actually doubted my ability to remember turns so started with just the first three, and what a three they were!  The 508 through Calabogie is ok, but the 65 to 71 east is SPECTACULAR, to the point where the road had me laughing out loud in my helmet (which I could leave in open face mode because I wasn't being battered with livestock flies).  This magical strip of tarmacadam twists and turns over and around some proper hills; this may be the best riding road in Ontario, particularly for me on this day where I had my head up (nothing to constantly tug my gaze down to the next direction), no traffic whatsoever AND it had just been resurfaced and was billiard table smooth   I had a realization halfway through this bit: I don't care if I'm 'lost', rollercoasting along this road was absolutely brilliant!

I stopped for a drink and to review next steps at the end of 71 at Calvyn's Takeout.  I wish I wasn't so soon from a big breakfast or I would have stopped, it smelled fantastic.  The next bit had some arterial highways then onto smaller back roads.  41/28/514/515/512 was another great mix of twists and turns on pretty much empty pavement (I don't think I passed or was passed by anyone over the next hour and this was on an August Sunday with lovely weather).  I stopped in Quadeville to update the mental map and pressed on when the mosquitos prompted me back into motion.  A thin film of mozzies was the only thing on the visor, unlike the plump livestock flies that'll take an eye out down south.

By now I was hours deep into the woods.  I can appreciate the diversity and cultural richness that population offers, but the manic nature of time in these places exhausts me.  Out here you tick along at the speed of the breeze, and when you see someone else you make a point of giving them a wave because you're not tripping over piles of people all day.

Never underestimate the citiot's ability to
trivialize anything that doesn't exist to support
their all-encompassing urban lifestyle.

I ended up missing the turn south to the 68 and stayed on the 66 all the way up to Wilno on Highway 60 (the road that goes through Algonquin Park).  It was all the advertising for Opeongo camping that made me realize I'd missed a turn and had come too far north to Hwy 60, but it didn't matter.  The roads were clear and I was enjoying the ride.  The alternate route added some kilometers to the day, but even in August the sun is up for a long, long time.  I stopped in Barry's Bay and charted a new route down 62 to Bancroft where I had a hotel room waiting.

62 was another beautiful Eastern Ontario road with views through the hills in the lengthening shadows on winding, though higher-speed roads.  I made good time and after about 350 kilometers, most of which were on twisty country backroads, I was ready to hang up my boots for the night.

The Bancroft Inn & Suites is just the sort of place that would wind up someone from the city.  It's basic, but clean and doesn't offer fancy coffees or fancy anything else; it was the perfect stop for the end of this analog day.  It was about as far as I could get from the neon-disco GLO hotel I'd stayed in the night before, but that jived with the thematic point.

By now I'm 3 days into a ride and far away from where I'd been starting to have PTSD anxiety dreams about work.  There is nothing like breaking out of a routine to clear your head and offer you some perspective.  My only regret is that I kept wanting to share moments with my partner but she was booked solid back home.  I've never done more than a 4 day trip on the bike, and I think that's a goal now.  Getting into the rhythm or riding along unfamiliar roads to a new destination is incredibly energizing.  I need to do this for more than 4 days at a time in order to get lost in the ride more completely.

The next morning I'd figured out how to hotkey the 360 camera to shoot on auto.  I was up early (the joys of being in your 50s) and after a cup of in-room coffee I stepped out into a cool single digit morning.  Steam was rising from the lakes as I filled up in Bancroft and found my way directly onto backroads. aiming for Haliburton an hour down the road where breakfast beckoned.

The roads were once again startlingly empty and I rolled unimpeded north east of Bancroft and around the 648 ring road through Highland Grove and Pusey before finally connecting to my favourite Ontario highway: 118.  Even with some traffic and construction I was still well in my Zen pocket.

The Kosy Korner in Haliburton is what you'd expect from a $10 country breakfast: 2 eggs, bacon, toast and tatters and bottomless coffee.  The service was incredibly quick (less than 5 minutes from ordering to eating), but it was getting full of locals so I decamped to the Upper River Trading Co. where I got a nice Balzac coffee and people watched while going over the map for the day.

Feeling full and caffeinated, I hit the road out of Haliburton by 10am and subsequently enjoyed one of the most meditative rides down an empty 118 yet.  Mysterious black lakes and rivers appear on the side of the road and wind into the never ending forest, hinting at what may be beyond.  The road weaves through ancient rock and living nature like the best kind of Canadian poetry.

Cathedrals of stone...

The animals here be prehistoric!

A ride down a near empty Hwy 118 is something to look forward to.

Not as busy as the road into Algonquin, the 118 offers similar views without the maddening crowds.  As I approached Bracebridge the mania returned.  Like many places within reach of the GTA, Bracebridge has turned into a pale imitation of it over the past decade as its population has exploded.  As a general rule, the larger and more austentatious the vehicle, the more likely they are to drive like a tool.  The first one was a Cadillac Escalade, the rolling definition of fuck-the-world-and-get-yours consumerism, which blew past me at 120+kms/hr (I was doing 95 in an 80 zone).  With the Zen bubble popped I switched on my rampant biker paranoia and eased back into the super-heated and pressurized world of Southern Ontario driving culture.

I still eked moments out of the ride through Port Carling to Bala and out through the Mohawk territories to the 400 Highway, but once on the 400 Southern Ontario's driving mania was in full force as I pulled out onto the highway to discover the trucks all doing 120+kms/hr and the rest doing better than 140.  Accelerate or be a moving chicane that's likely to get rear ended by some doofus in an SUV doing 150kms/hr while looking at his phone.

Back into my usually riding range, I stopped in Creemore for a quick bite having not had anything to eat since breakfast at Kosy Korner that morning.  From here in it's lots of flies and straight lines.  The next morning we sat on the porch with a cup of coffee at 7am while enjoying the symphony of backup beepers (5 or 6 of them at once?) along with the bullet crack of nail guns building more houses in the once empty field behind our subdivision.  The tintinnabulation of construction was eventually drowned out by our neighbour's lawn service showing up with their helicopter-loud professional lawn mower (to cut about 200 square feet of grass).  We gave up at that point and went inside.  Maybe we spend so much time on connected devices in our urban hell holes because we've made them so uninhabitable IRL.

There are some beautiful places to live out of the madness that are only an hour out of Ottawa.  If we could escape the grip of Southwestern Ontario, perhaps we could find something more livable (and rideable) in the east.  I've always wanted to live somewhere where you could enjoy the ride at your backdoor, Calabogie delivers it!

Looking back over my longer rides, I think four days is the longest I've ever been able to arrange for a motorcycle trip.  Max and I did a four day loop around Ontario and Michigan many years ago, but busy work/life responsibilities makes it difficult to pry more time free, though that's maybe what I need to find balance in this chaos.  A colleague just spent 60 days this summer riding out to the west coast to do the PCH.  My mind feels rebooted after four days away, I can't imagine how he's feeling, but I'd like to.

Overlanding While Treading Lightly

 I came across Overland Journal in Indigo that other day and the combination of reasonable price ($12CAD) and very high quality (it compared favourably with magazine-book combos asking $25+) had me picking it up.  It isn't motorcycle specific but does include off road and adventure bikes along with pretty much any vehicle you might go off the beaten path with.

I usually do that kind of off-roading with completely inappropriate vehicles.  In the early noughties my wife and I beat a rented Toyota Camry to within an inch of its life on the the logging roads in the interior of Vancouver Island.  Another time we were in a rented Citroen mini-van in Iceland watching arctic foxes run across the empty landscape.  In both cases we got deep into the wilderness in rental two-wheel drive vehicles, but then we got a Jeep Wrangler as a rental car last year and it started giving me ideas.

I put myself through university working as a service manager for Quaker State's Q-Lube and whenever a Jeep came in you needed an umbrella when you walked under it for all the fluids leaking down on you.  That negative experience put me off the brand for years but last year we got a Wrangler as an insurance rental after and accident and it changed my perception.

It was a 2019 Jeep Wrangler four dour with about 20k kilometres on the clock and it was tight!  Everything worked and felt quality and it did something that no car has done for me in the past decade; it felt like an event driving it.

Since bikes set in I've fallen out of love with cars (trucks, whatever), but the Jeep made driving feel special again.  Performance cars seem kind of pointless when I have two bikes in the garage that are faster than anything but apex million-dollar plus super-cars, but the Jeep came at it from another angle.  The big tires made it a challenge to manage on pavement and the big V6 in this one was a stark contrast to the sub-two-litre mileage focused appliances I've been driving, but maybe that's what made it feel special.

There was a point where we could have taken the other car (a Mazda2) down to Toronto but took the Jeep instead and it made the whole experience less like a long, difficult winter drive and more like an adventure.  Being higher up off the road meant I wasn't looking through other people's road spray all the time and if I wasn't heavy on the gas the thing was getting mid-high-twenties miles-per-gallon.

Another time we were out in it and my brother-in-law (a former Jeep owner) and our sons went out for a ride and I shifted it into 4wd and drove right over the snow mound in the Canadian Tire parking lot, much to everyone's amazement.  This was a ten-foot plus high mound of snow and the Jeep went right over it - with road tires on!  Deeply impressed with the vehicle's capabilities and character is where I was when we handed it back.

I also used it to take a thousand plus pound of ewaste to recycling from work and the heavy duty suspension and utility of the thing made this an easy job when the little hatchback would have been blowing shocks and wallowing under the weight.  Having a vehicle that takes on larger utility tasks makes sense when you have a lot of them to do.  It also makes sense if you want to go deep into the wilderness while being self-sufficient.

I'm getting to the age now where things seem strangely expensive.  My first car cost me $400 and took me a hundred thousand kilometres.  A Honda Civic hatchback I had in the early noughties took me over a quarter of a million kilometres for less than seven grand.  The only new car I've ever purchased (that Mazda2 that has been flawless for over 120k over ten years of ownership) cost me $17k new, all in.  My wife's Buick cost an eye-watering forty-grand back in 2016 new and I'm not interested in double car payments so won't be looking until we finally pay that one off (which seems like it's taking forever  with our strange new world of 7-9 year finance schemes).  When that debt finally gets cleared I'll be looking at a Jeep Wrangler, but not just any old Wrangler, I want the one from the future.

From an 'overlander' point of view a dependable long distance vehicle capable of going off the beaten path means my wife and I can do what we've always done, but more so.  In the pre-covid times we drove from Ontario to the West Coast in 2018:

In 2019 we took the same tiny Buick to the East Coast of Canada, but the vehicle we drove limited our ability to go off the beaten path (or even off pavement).  What a Jeep would do is enable us to do the things we defer to (in rental cars) in something designed for that kind of nonsense.

This has me encouraging my lovely wife to join us at SMART Adventures this year to learn some off road driving in a side-by-side while we dirt bike.  Which brings the overlanding vehicle back to bikes again.  You can go deep in a Jeep but you can get places on a dirt bike that you can't in any other way.  Jeep's new 4xe hybrid Wrangler would be a fantastic platform for all manner of biking shenanigans from a tread lightly/minimal emissions angle.  Overland Journal had an editorial about not abusing the remote places they feature.  A good place to start with that would be to minimize the amount of emissions you're putting out while enjoying nature.

If a Wrangler'll carry a full on dirt bike, it'll
handle a Freeride (or 2 without batteries in 'em).

Whether it's taking a dirt bike to a trail or a trials bike to an event, the Jeep 4xe would be capable of doing it efficiently and effectively.  With some canny rear mounted racks it wouldn't even require a trailer.

The next-level green expedition option would be to pick up a KTM Freeride and put it on the Wrangler 4xe and then work out how to charge the bike from the hybrid Jeep's electrical system.

Overland Journal has a lot of advertisers who specialize in making vehicles long distance ready, including many that specialize in prepping Jeeps for the long haul.  A Wrangler 4xe would make an efficient, green platform from which to launch wilderness riding on KTM's Freeride that barely leaves a trace.

KTM's Freeride electric off roader gives you 90 minutes of charge, weighs less than 250lbs and (with the battery pack removed) would be barely noticeable on the back of the Jeep.  With some canny wiring the bike could charge while on the hybrid Jeep.

The Jeep Wrangler 4xe is the most powerful Wrangler yet, has astonishing mileage and would also offer some interesting electrical generation options when off the beaten track.

The electric bike and the hybrid Wrangler would cost less than a base model BMW mid-sized SUV, so it isn't even crazy expensive (well it is, but that's just because I'm old - everything's expensive!).  This zero emissions expeditions thing is something KTM and Jeep should join forces on.  Two legendary off-road brands working together to produce an environmentally responsible off-roading experience?  Betcha it wouldn't take too much to have the Jeep's hybrid system juice up the Freeride while off piste either.

I'm glad I stumbled across Overland Journal.  I'm enjoying it so much I think I'm going to pick up a subscription.  Then it's time to start thinking about the Jeep/KTM green/dream team combination.