pillow, I could see through the small crack in the window shade that the weather out- side was disappointing. I stumbled over to the window and could see the sky was a dark gray, and the cover on my bike shim- mered and sagged from the dousing it was receiving. The temperature was still in the 50s, and the forecast showed no improve- ment. As I emerged from the bathroom I found the love of my life was cheerful, opti- mistic, and unpacking her rain gear. I looked deeply into her beautiful green eyes and said," We don't have to ride in this. We can just hang out here in this comfortable, warm, clean sheets, comfy clean bedspread, and hot breakfast provided, B&B if you would like." As on the day we
first met, my heart melted when she looked at me and said, “Why would we do that?" “Well dear,” I
replied, "this is the Cabot Trail. In addi- tion to the rain the cold, and the fog, we will have things like switchbacks and severe drop-offs to contend with." Unknown to her, the voice inside my head softly whispered, "And then there are the tires." With that, the five
foot four, pony- tailed, center of my universe brought her beautiful face close to mine, kissed me quickly, looked me in the eye and said with authority, "Don’t be such a wuss." As I handed the credit card to the
LaHave bakery.
to have the "two up cruise control," a unique device which kicks in whenever your speed exceeds passenger expectations and she involuntarily beats on your back. The Cabot Trail is circular, and we
"farmer" who owned the B&B, I asked if there were any shortcuts around the Trail. He said no, not unless you have a snow mobile, and although the temperature might get close, it’s not quite cold enough for snow. He offered me no relief and then he said, "Please be extra careful, the winter has not been kind to our roads." Ride ‘em cowboy. I am one who likes to count stressors in a
situation, and I try to never to go beyond six. Today the obvious number one is the
76 BMW OWNERS NEWS March 2016
decided to travel counter-clockwise, our thinking that being in the outside lanes would give us a better chance at a currently non-existent view off the coast. With lim- ited visibility, it would also bring some unneeded excitement to the ride by signifi- cantly increasing the possibility of riding off a cliff. The halfway point is a place called, Pleas-
ant Bay. I was thinking that long before we reached it we would be turning back, but we made it, and the two sides of the trail stood
rain, then there is the fog, that's two, fol- lowed by the cold, the aforementioned pot- holes, and I have yet to mention the predicted potential for 50 mph wind gusts. As I brace myself for the sudden jolt that comes when my otherwise graceful soul mate climbs aboard, the score is: the Mrs., five, and me, a secret six. Dressed for cold and rain and feeling like
kids in snowsuits encased in a full body condom, we set out on our journey. With my dignity at stake we went foolishly for- ward into a land of cold, wet, fog, wind and potholes, those unmentionable worries regarding the vital components that pro- vide our only contact with the road surface be damned. Today at least it would be good
in bold contrast. On the south side, our ride from Bad-
deck revealed none of the Trail’s bounteous beauty. For the most part we struggled just to see those all-important yellow lines to our left and the white one to our right. For- tunately, there were no other travelers that day; I imagined they were napping under- neath one of those warm comfy quilts back at the farm with no tractor, near that charming little village we left behind. Suddenly, just as we crossed the halfway
point where going becomes returning, the sky turned blue, the air was cleansed of its vapor, the sun brought warmth to the earth, and the actual ride began. For the rest of the ride around Cape Breton on the wonderful Cabot Trail we were all smiles, happiness and high fives. So much has been writ- ten about the beauty of this ride, all I can do is confirm that it's all true. It is made of magnificent vistas,
awesome
road surfaces and some very appealing c ampg r o un d s, which of course would have to wait for another day. Where the first
half of the circle had been an exercise in vanity, fear and cause for self-depre- cation, the second
half had been pure joy and gratitude for the privilege of a lifetime of riding. Oh well, I suppose I must admit the Mrs., my guiding light in life, was right yet again. When we began our return to the ferry
back home, all the stressors were gone except the one that remained my secret. As the miles clicked off one by one, my confi- dence began to rise. Although I kept a firmer than usual grip on the handlebars, I slowly began to think we were actually going to finish the ride without incident. By the time they tied the bike down in the hull of the ferry on our way back to the States, Mr. Lincoln's chin mysteriously was again hidden in the grooves and I couldn't wait until the Mrs., rides with me again.
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