Ready for the off If I was a grandmother, I would say to my grandchildren "This trip was a twinkle in your granny's eye when she first got her motorcycle licence way back in September 2019." And they would coo, and be happy they could tell their friends that they had such a cool grandma, then go back to whatever they were doing before I so rudely interrupted them. I don't have grandchildren, but I have done the trip. To Montréal, and back. In 2019, when I was slowly weaving my way around imaginary cones in empty parking lots, because practice makes better, and daring myself to take rides that involved left-hand turns across traffic as well as right-hand turns, the inkling of an unimaginable idea began to take form. I would master the machine and ride, solo, to a land where they speak French, eat poutine and are not American, at all. And Montréal is but a four-hour hop, skip and a jump from Satan's Kingdom , if you go up the highway, and they do indeed speak French...
You never know what's around the corner...