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I'd already begun initial preparations on Naomi, my beloved BMW F800GS motorcycle, on the Dec. 24 weekend, with an oil and filter change. In final resting preparations yesterday, I filled up and stabilized the fuel, washed her down utterly, then cleaned and re-lubed her chain.
As I backed her into the RideInn moto-garage-tent I bought for her several weeks ago, big white turds of wet snow began to fall, as was the temperature to do late last night.
I knew that taking out Naomi's battery really spelled the end. Especially as the precipitation meant I had to do it standing inside the RideInn, lid down. Now Mr Battery sits warm, next to me, with his new best mate, Mr Trickles, getting all charged up whenever he senses the slightest flaggage in energy stores.
At least I can confidently state that I made maximum use of 2011 and extracted an extra day to beat last year's December 23 shutdown.
This morning I was out by 7:30 and the wet snow had frozen into pure icy treachery. The die is cast: For the next two to three months I'm an inmate of my wife's salt-stained cage, a Nissan Rogue.
I am also in official mourning for all that is warm, green, loamy, soft and out of doors.
It's not the most flattering time for Toronto, winter. But its disappearance in April and the raucous chlorophyllery that follows makes for a contrast that the average Hogtowner can appreciate to his or her deepest spinal nerve endings. If any remain by then.
Shinny hockey, anyone?