The 19th year of the 21st Century marked a couple of significant milestones for me. For the first time since I was born there, I moved off the Island of Montreal. I’ve lived between the shores of Rivière des Prairies and the Saint Lawrence River all my life, but incessant roadwork on the island has created traffic havoc I could no longer bear.
With more than 400 reported major construction zones in the city, the raising of a new bridge, and the increasing incorporation of gridlock-inducing reserved bus lanes, it was time to go.
The second milestone was the purchase of a house. My girlfriend’s criteria for the new abode included a modern kitchen, a large bathroom, a big, cozy bedroom, and a spacious backyard. All I wanted was a garage. Roxanne and I found our ideal, humble homestead in Sainte-Catherine, a small town on the west side of the South Shore of Montreal. We moved into our modest bungalow in May.
As any rider knows, a garage is a sacred place where one spends time working on bikes in the off season, and spends time bench-racing with friends over a few beers. My garage has since been insulated and heated, and all of the bike-fixing stuff I’d gathered during my years as a motorcycle tech has been moved in. I now have a small, well-equipped workshop, as well as a heated storage place for my bikes, which now number four after the recent purchase of a 1980 Kawasaki KZ550A. Roxanne will add to that number next year when she replaces the Suzuki SV650 she sold last summer.
Yes, I really appreciate owning a place where I can store and work on my bikes; however the extra storage space has triggered an unfortunate urge to buy new bikes. Worse yet, I now have no excuse to turn away
Czar Editor Richardson if he rides through the area, since there’s now a safe place where he can park his Hog and spend the night.