Counting The Days Until Spring…

What can be said about this winter that hasn’t already been said; usually with four-letter words?  After popping the bead on one of the tires of my snow blower last weekend, I had a particularly colorful combination of bon mots running through my head. Suffice to say that winter needs to be given the boot and, after enduring the past two frigid months, I can only conclude there are three types of people:

There are those who love winter, which includes skiers, who shoot videos of their downhill runs and then post them on Facebook to make the rest of us look like wusses; dogsledders, who just love sub-zero temperatures; and anyone owning a quad with a plow attached. For them, winter is playtime.

Also included in this mix are riders who take to the ice. Friend David Gelerter of Winchester called one recent evening as he was returning from a long day of shredding ice. He’d driven 2½ hours to upstate New York, spent the day riding on a lake, and needed conversation to keep his eyelids open on the way home. His chilled extremities weren’t sufficient to do the job.

Conversely, there are those who hate winter, which includes most other motorcyclists. We park our bikes and then routinely go out to the garage and gaze at them, wondering if spring will ever arrive. We pass the winter griping and watching as the shiny metal parts slowly corrode.

The third type of person is the sadist who reminds us of our predicament. I recently chastised another friend for “picking the scab” through his weekly email invitations to go for a ride. Throughout January, I’d responded politely by noting the snow and ice in my driveway, but “lost it” this month. His succinct reply was to “Yank it off” by venturing out.

Maybe winter madness had taken hold, but I briefly thought about pulling the Yamaha XT250 dual sport out of the garage and trying it – until I looked at the thermometer and decided a wiser move would be to haul more logs into the house from the woodpile.

This especially brutal winter has been made worse by the excessive verbal puking of TV and radio meteorologists. A radio buddy of mine claims to have a recording of one such pundit from long ago on which he doesn’t display his blowhard delivery style of today. I want proof. And don’t get me started about the amped up performances of late of those who appear on The Weather Channel.

But I digress…

Proof for me that this has been a horrible winter can be found in three ways that I’ve been spending my leisure time recently.

I’ve been reading a dust-encrusted copy of Jules’ Verne’s “Around the World Eighty Days.” Of course, the arrival of Phileas Fogg and Passepartout in India got me thinking about motorcycles and the fact that Royal Enfield, a company based there, surged past Harley-Davidson in 2014 by selling 302,591 motorcycles, compared to 267,999 for Harley.

I’ve been going online, too, and watching the educational, entertaining “Ask the Editor” videos at merriam-webster.com. Associate editor Kory Stamper’s explanation of “How the Months Got Their Names” caught my attention. “October, our tenth month of the year, comes from the Latin word that means ‘eight,’” she said before explaining that the reason for this dates to 738 B.C. when Romulus created a 304-day, 10-month calendar that began with the spring equinox in March.

Not included in the calendar was a “a 61-day no man’s land” where January and February would have been had they been named, Stamper reported. Romulus had it right this year.

I’ve also been doing some online window shopping in preparation for the coming riding season. A new pair of Kevlar-lined jeans needs to be purchased before I can venture out again.

Earlier this week, I stumbled across a news item that linked me to townmoto.com, a high-end motorcycle apparel shop in Toronto where, for only $7.95, you buy a “shifter boot protector.” It’s a leather strap with an elasticized band that “stops the toes of your boots from getting scuffed and marked up by your shifter.”

The device made me laugh because scuffs on the left toe of a riding boot (or right toe if you ride an old British bike with a right-side shifter) is a badge of honor, cherished by serious riders and proof positive that a person is an actual rider and not a poser.

For the heck of it, I emailed Town Moto and got a response from Andrew McCracken. “Ya, it’s funny. I didn’t think we’d sell any when we brought them in but my business partner used to work at a large dealership where they had them. I guess they were popular with the suit and tie, ride-to-work set, which some of our customers are,” he wrote.

McCracken concluded, “Insanely, we sell hundreds of these, mostly online. Surprising what becomes popular sellers sometimes.”

What isn’t surprising is the way we all complain about the weather. Having bought new motorcycle late last year, a used 1994 Moto Guzzi California, I’m particularly frustrated because I haven’t been able to ride it yet.

Over the years, my usual period for motorcycle storage has been from Dec. 7 to March 7. Getting the bikes back on the road on this March 7 doesn’t look promising. Finishing “Around the World in Eighty Days” doesn’t look so promising either. In writing this, I ended up doing a Google search on the book, and accidentally read how it ends. I wish an end to winter was as easily obtained.

(Originally published in “The Republican-American” on Feb. 28, 2015.)