After 6 or 7 days down time in Deux-Montagnes, I was eager to be back on the road for that good ol’ wind therapy; the sun on my cheeks. But that’s not how my first day back in the saddle went.

I set out waving “See you Soon!” to Rob and Tanya and immediately missed my first turn. As I rolled up to that first stop sign, I spotted the sunglasses I’d borrowed from Brian perched on top of the stuffed moose I picked up in Moose Jaw. Good grief! I seem to regularly have issues with sunglasses! This is why I missed my first turn. Sunglasses now in place, I did have a chance to cruise the lovely streets of Rob and Tanya’s neighbourhood as I made my way back to the route. Everything for a reason!

I’d put on my rain pants before leaving as the sky was pretty grey. It’s much easier putting them on BEFORE it rains. I’ve driven through some pretty nasty weather, so the grey clouds weren’t a detterent. Optimisim is a bitch sometimes because I was on the highway for only a few minutes when the sky opened up to teach me a lesson about planning. After navigating off the highway to a parking lot, digging out and putting on my rain jacket and rain gloves, I set out again in what was now pouring rain.

Quebec highways are not the perfectly smooth and fabulous roads in Peru, let me tell ya! Nope! I was doging gobs of ashphalt, deep ruts filled with rain, and heaved lanes. Although it was Sunday morning, I was also coping with rush-hour levels of traffic and the showers of rain they spewed from their tires as they passed me. Within minutes my boots were soaked from what felt like dragging them through a lake behind a jet boat. I couldn’t see the dials on the bike, I couldn’t see Petunial’s navigation, I couldn’t see my GPS, and was basically NOT having an awesome time. If it hadn’t been for Petunia’s voice through my helmet, I’d have gotten even more lost in Terrebonne than I already was. I’d only made it an hour down the road, but had to concede defeat to ol’ mama nature and find a room.

After waking up to chills at 3am the night before, to say I felt like a bag of smashed assholes as I rolled into the hotel parking lot was no small exaggeration. Off my bike. Squish, squish, squish into the hotel lobby. As I stood there dripping and coughing while waiting for travellers to check out, I was crossing my fingers they’d have a room I could check into right away; it was only 11:00 am.

“The only room I have is a king jacuzzi suite” says the gal at the desk. I hated the idea of dropping over $300 to dry out after only riding an hour down the road, but I was grateful for the room. No sooner had I run myself a hot bath, than the sky broke and the sun shone through. At least Jules could dry out too.

So I’m a country mouse, my friends, living on a lovely acreage in central Alberta. I don’t spend time in the cities really, and even the local pizza joints 10 minutes from home don’t deliver to me. The idea of Uber Eats and the like have always seemed something other people use. I think nothing of jumping in my truck to drive the 10 minutes into town for food at home. But this soggy rider had nothin’ left in the tank to find lunch this day! Even if it WAS only across the street.

I broke my Uber Eats cherry on a place that was about a 4 minute walk (that I didn’t have to make) from my hotel. With the warm bath out of the way, my gear drying on the AC unit, I curled up in bed for a bowl of veggies, feta, and quinoa while I binged on Netflix. When I was hungry again, Uber Eats brought me fettucini carbonara and ministroni soup from a place that was also within walking distance. Walking is for putzes. Or energetic people with dry boots.