Motorcycle Monday: Discovering Canada in One Pair of Pants Page 1

Four hours after the trip began I pulled into a graveyard east of Beaverton because I saw an empty picnic table.


I needed to stretch my legs, let the blood flow through my butt cheeks, sip a bit of coffee and make a phone call.

“Hi, Shelley. It’s Gord,” I said.

“Are you all right?” she asked.

“I’m fine, thanks. Thought I’d call and let you know my arrival time. I should be at your house in about an hour.”

“We’ll have the barbeque ready,” she said.

“Great. See you soon.”

The thought of a fat burger made me hungry. After leaving London in the late morning I'd only stopped one other time, near Orangeville, for a short lunch break.

So I didn’t sit at the picnic table for long.

I wrote a few notes about the day’s journey, took a few pictures and got back onto the Suzuki.

Sixty minutes later I was resting on a dock in Fenelon Falls with a cold beer in my hand.


While burgers cooked on a nearby grill I watched Shelley as she watched several swimmers just a few feet from where she was sitting.


Notes:

“Newmarket not bad traffic-wise”

“drove through tiny Baldwin again - elderberry capital of the universe”


“bike runs so well, 650cc enough for this type of trip”

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Do you have photographs from a recent vacation? I'd like to see them.