It's impossible for me to overstate just how much I love riding my scooter. Even after I crashed on it and sustained an injury that'll haunt me for the rest of my life, not getting back on was never a possibility. The feeling of flying down Lake Ridge Road on a gorgeous afternoon and feeling so integrated with nature, I could almost reach out and touch the trees, was unbelievable and unlike any other. And even commuting back and forth to Stratford during opening week, a tough slog of over 150km each way (and in pitch-black darkness on the back roads, too!), was as amazing as those divine revelatory experiences you read about.
I first fell in love with it in Hawaii when I rented a moped and took it all over the west side of Oahu. There was a pretty hair-raising ride along the Pali Highway (the Pali Lookout is renowned for its "strong and howling winds") to Maunawili Falls where I thought I was going to die the whole way there and the whole way back, but it was still pretty thrilling to come face-to-face with the Grim Reaper and dash away at the last second. The weather was always perfect there and no matter what time of day or night, I could ride that moped with little more than a long-sleeved plaid shirt and shorts.
Not so much in Toronto. We're still over a month's away from the official start of winter on December 21 (random question: why don't seasons start on the 1st instead of the 21st, like December 1st for winter, March 1st for spring, etc.?) but judging by the thermometer, we're already there. Temperatures each day don't seem to go above 3C with around zero or below the norm, and it snowed for hours on Thursday, even though none of it stuck to the ground.
But I was prepared for this.
It's not my first winter in Toronto and I've long resigned myself to bulky layers in the name of keeping warm. It's actually almost a source of pride when talking among friends and family and comparing the ever-increasing number of layers we wore. "I had two pairs of pants on over top of my long johns," I'll say. "Oh yeah?" will be the response. "I had a thermal shirt, t-shirt, and three sweaters, plus a Canada Goose parka, on the top half of me." When Canadian winters are this blastin' cold, the silliest things take the greatest importance.
However, the fall weather soon started to turn chilly with nights dropping into the single digits, and I knew layering up would have to involve both quantity and quality. It was no longer good enough to simply put on a pair of spandex shorts under my jeans and call it day.
I rode out to Oshawa yesterday, a roughly 55km jaunt one way. Somewhat foolishly, I thought that just long johns, a pair of skinny jeans and faux furry-lined high boots would be enough, along with cashmere-lined leather gloves underneath a thick pair of outer gloves.
They were not.
My thighs, around the 40, 45km mark, started burning from the cold. My sunglasses, tucked in tight on my balaclava, fogged up every time I came to a red light and I was forced to lift my face mask to cool them down from my breath (on the other hand, my nose and lips felt great). And my fingertips, my poor, poor fingertips, were colder than little ice cubes, although I took great delight in placing them on my cousin's neck heh heh heh.
Riding back, I would not make the same mistake. I added my pyjamas to the mix, and would have worn the pants on top if they weren't fuzzy and blue and had white outlines of winter hats and gloves (bit of a tight fit under skinny jeans, I will say that). And you know what? I didn't start feeling like I'd been locked in a freezer until I reached the Richmond entrance off Eastern Avenue, about 50k into my journey. But man, were those last 5 kilometres sure colder than a witch's tit.
On the bright side, this -3C weather feels as balmy as though someone turned the air-conditioning down just a tad too much.
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