Two wheels keep turning, even in a deep freeze
SUBURBAN CHRONICLES
It was colder than the hair on a tauntaun’s butt on New Year’s Day — you know, those horselike things from “The Empire Strikes Back” — so I decided to do something that made no sense whatsoever (like riding a tauntaun or going to look for Luke on a frozen ice planet).
I went for a bike ride. And it was awesome.
This is my third winter riding what is called a “fat bike,” the not-so-politically-correct name of a two-wheeled vehicle with huge, four-inch wide tires.
It looks like a Lance Armstrong-inspired, self-propelled clown car.
But the big rubber has the advantage of being to roll over, and through, just about anything including deep mud, sand and — key for this excursion — snow. Think of them as a part bike, part monster truck: in addition to smushing cars, they never get stuck in the white stuff.
There are about 12 acres of publicly-owned and provincially-protected forest and field near my house and there are trails running through the entire thing. And while it can get pretty busy in there on sunny Sunday afternoons, on most sub-zero days I have the place pretty much to myself.
The key, as it turns out, is layering. I start with wool, add the spandex biking shorts, two coats and fleece-lined windproof pants. Two layers of socks and big-ass boots. A full-face balaclava, helmet, googles and mittens (no string required).
I look like a two-year-old about to go tobogganing for the first time with his overprotective parents. And yes, I usually have to go pee as soon as I’m dressed.
But I love my outfit. Inside the helmet with the goggles down, I feel like Darth Vader — complete with the heavy breathing (exercising in the snow is ridiculously hard work). I have no idea what the Sith Lord did to keep his goggles from fogging up ... actually, I guess if you can Force-choke a guy, keeping condensation at bay is probably not so tough.
I also feel tough as hell when I ride outside in brutal weather. Sometimes I remove the balaclava mid-ride, causing my beard to ice up ... it would look super cool if my beard wasn’t mostly grey and, therefore, the exact same colour as the ice. Still, ice in the beard is super Canadian.
On my New Year’s ride, I went for about 45 minutes with the dog and a buddy. The sun was shining, which makes it feel, like, at least 1.5 degrees warmer. Near the end of our trip, I made quick left turn, hit a deep patch of snow and crashed.
Normally, this is a bad thing. But on this day I just nestled softly into a big patch of white stuff beside the trail.
As I lay there laughing, I thought of only one thing that could make the start of 2018 any better: some tauntaun guts to keep me warm.