Winter Riding Or Calculated Suicide?

On boxing day we loaded-up the car and drove my mum-in-law back home to Caraquet as she'd been staying with us for the holidays... and yes, I'll admit that it was a long three hours in the car, but we got there in the late afternoon and the trip was fine.

That evening, we drove into town to get a few things at the market. That's when I saw it. Coming towards me from the opposite direction was a lone headlight that I knew looked familiar. As it came closer, my visual memory kicked-in to overdrive and I realised at that moment that someone was actually riding a GL1500 Goldwing on that cold December night.

Now, to put this into perspective, you've got to know a few things about this little town called Caraquet, my birthplace (although I haven't lived there in over 17 years). In summer, it is festive and quaint, the wharf bustling with activity, and tourists galore wandering through the area to enjoy our many festivals, fresh seafood and beaches. In winter, it is only slightly more appealing than a blizzard in Siberia.

So to see this luxo-touring bike riding around the day after Christmas, on icy roads, in minus 20° Celsius (about -4° Fahrenheit)... well, let's just say it was a Twilight Zone moment. After a few seconds, it was over; his (or her) taillight fading away in my rearview mirror.

To whoever that Arctic rider was: my hat's off to ya! It was either a bold act of motorcycling enthusiasm, or a crazy joke. Either way, I got a kick out of it.