I met a dear old friend (old as in longtime, not as in, um, old) for lunch today. He was riding his commuter scooter in the 40-degree weather, so I couldn’t very well wimp out, could I?
I put on two shirts, two pairs of socks, my nice thick balaclava (Biker’s Comfort in Action Stop-Wind, from BikeBandit), and my winter Cortech Scarab gloves. If I’d had more than 20 miles to go, I’d have donned the Olympia C4 Thermolite glove liners, too. But the gloves have a Thinsulate lining, and that was plenty. My HJC AC-12 helmet has a removable chin deflector (it makes more difference than you’d think), which keeps the wind from aiming directly for your eyeballs. Only the tops of my legs were cold, and once they went sort of numb, I was pretty comfy.
My friend’s scooter is great! it has a roomy little trunk and comfy seat, and he just rolled it right up onto the sidewalk in front of the restaurant (let’s face it: when you’re riding something this cute, you can get away with anything).
I only saw one other rider out, a hunkered-down leather-clad sportbike rider. It was worth it to see my old friend, and to bask in the clear blue day. And when I got home, my neighbor took me for a short ride in the gloriously rumbling Mustang show car that he’s prepping for the World of Wheels event next weekend in Atlanta. Wahoo!! So loud you can’t hear yourself think, and wondrously over-powered. I was squealing with joy as we fishtailed down the country road. You’d think such a display would scandalize the locals, but most of us are hotrodders around here, anyway, so that throaty blast is a welcome sound.