Okay, so I forgot, kind of. You see, the members of our nation-wide Canadian Vintage Motorcycle Group, the ones I’m the most connected to, are located in Ontario’s Port Dover area or, in CVMG terms, the “Olde Norfolk Section.” The chapter is approximately a two-hour ride from my home in Toronto, so it’s no surprise that I make it to few of the monthly meetings. When I do it always seems like a party—especially when they’re at Holly Garret’s house. She’s a great cook and always puts on a lovely spread.

The meetings are usually never at my place, but this year circumstances called for a change of venue for October so I volunteered mine. My fellow members and I emailed back and forth and they all agreed to come to my home, but privately I doubted that it would ever happen. People who live beyond its perimeters so often talk about Toronto as though it’s some sort of monster and that they can’t think of anything that would make them want to ride into the Big Smoke. This is why I never bothered to change the location on my calendar.

Imagine my surprise when Holly emailed to ask if she could bring anything to the meeting. Meeting? What meeting? Oh my goodness, the meeting’s really at my house? In two days? I’m certain my face took on that caricature stop-and-take-notice look—lips pursed, eyebrows arched, eyes expanded into frozen saucers—that you see so often in cartoons.Wings were the next items of discussion. Wings? Well, people come directly from work so they need to eat something. And here I thought food was served only at Holly’s. Wings? I got that same cartoon look. Wings come with all sorts of little bones. Yipes! The last thing this vegetarian wanted was her fingers coated in the grease of slippery slimy chicken bones. Steak on a bun I replied. Yes. Steak. Everyone (but me) loves steak. Steak can be cooked by someone outside on the barbecue. The buns meant I wouldn’t need a dozen or more steak knives. Everyone would be happy, including my neighbourhood butcher, who is also a biker and operates a family-run shop with his brother as partner. It’s my understanding that Strickland’s is one of the better butchers in the city and, just my luck, instead of the best health food store I have the best butcher nearby.

Let me tell you though, that butcher has made my summers sweet. But, instead of the 50 steaks I ordered for my last big barbecue or the two turkeys I bought for Thanksgiving, this time I asked for a mere 10 bun-sized steaks. And people tell me they wish all vegetarians were like me! Unlike one of my best friends who commented that for me to go to a butcher and place a big meat order was not unlike going to a drug dealer and telling that person I was buying for friends, not for myself. After a while people just stop believing. And so it was that the folks who attended the Meeting Chez Moi indulged in steak on a bun. Holly brought crudite (veggies and dip) and a bottle of Norton wine, which was very good indeed. I topped that off with a larger bottle of red that I brought up from the cave, and we finally got the meeting to order. And what order it was.END OF SEASON TALK BEGAN ON THE SUBJECT OF coming bike shows and who was going to put what into which exhibit and which hosts were at least offering free parking in exchange for the vintage bike displays. I had left a copy of a rather interesting “Toolbox” calendar on the table and my section members, being a bit less rigid than some others, considered the idea of selling them as a fundraiser.

To see what I mean, visit www.capstudios.com/calendar.html. I won’t say which one I am! Another topic on the agenda was the buy and sell department of the CVMG monthly newsletter. I pointed out that I’m still looking for a pair of dirt bikes (one for me, one for a friend), preferably 250cc, four-stroke, street-legal machines. Someone asked if they needed to be colour co-ordinated. They don’t, but I do believe that little exchange will be in the newsletter notes next month.The point of all this, what do bikers do in the winter when the weather’s just too frigid and the roads too messy to ride? We socialize. Women gossip, men talk. It’s really all the same. But if the meeting is at my place, women uncork the wine and men barbecue in the cold. Everyone reads motorcycle magazines, pointing out the reasons why this or that publication was brought to the meeting. It’s winter, damn it. No camping, no rides to the lake. You could ride on the lake I suppose, but that’s another story best told by someone who’s into ice racing. As for myself, I take the warm days when I can and fantasize about next year.

The next meeting will again be at Holly’s house. That’s great because, among other things, she makes a wicked vegetarian chilli filled with honkin’ huge cashews. I can’t help but notice that the Real Men (and our section is full of them) have seconds—even though there’s always plenty of meat on the table. And not too long after the meeting at Holly’s it will be time again for the CVMG Grinch Christmas Party. The idea here is that each guest brings a wrapped Christmas gift to exchange. Guests then draw a number out of a helmet. Whoever goes first gets to choose and open one of the gifts. Guest number two then has the option of “stealing” that gift or selecting and opening another package. As the play goes on, players who have the higher numbers will be able to select from any of the opened gifts or a new one altogether. Perhaps this year I’ll end up wanting something no one else does. And with luck, winter will end once again, to be replaced by the other three seasons: Spring Riding, Summer Riding and Autumn Riding (not to be mislabeled as fall.)Here’s wishing everyone a joyfully short winter.

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