Even RoadDog gets tired or nervous once in awhile.

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The three of us — Steve, Jake and I — took our first spin on two motorcycles one night last week.

Having just earned my learner’s licence a week earlier, I’ll admit I was pretty nervous. Steve was away for the week after my training course and I didn’t feel ready to strike out totally on my own, so by the time I finally got to ride I was a little worried that I’d forgotten everything. I had some vague visions of riding off the road into a ditch on a corner or something.

I made Steve promise before we left the driveway that if I did crash, he’d make sure that he and Jake were safely off the road before he worried about me. I’m not sure how that would have worked, but it made me feel better. As I told him, I figured I had enough to worry about without worrying about them as well.

And so we set out, with me in front on my bike and Steve and Jake following behind.

It was okay. In fact, by the time we were on our way home, it was better than okay and I suspect it will keep getting better. As much as I might hate to admit it, Steve was probably right. I probably will enjoy the freedom of riding my own bike. That’s not to say I won’t sometimes still “hang off the back” of his because I’m sure I will, but it will be nice to have the choice. Options … I love options.

As for Jake, he did okay too. We had arranged where we’d make our first stop (assuming I made it that far) before we left home. When I pulled over in that parking lot, Steve pulled up beside me and when I looked back at Jake he was sitting up in his carrier. His tongue was out, but not in his usual smiling “I’m on the bike and I’m happy about it” way. It was just out a bit, maybe half an inch, the way it is when he’s uncertain or tired or wants something. I could see in his eyes that he just wasn’t so sure about this new arrangement.

On the one hand, my heart plummeted because our RoadDog was obviously unsettled, maybe even a little insecure, without me. On the other hand, it soared because he obviously missed me.

With a little encouragement, Jake was soon happy again. Once he knew we were all there together, he seemed to accept the new arrangement. I guess we’ll have to take things from there and see how it goes for all of us. I’ll soon be ready to ride into a Tim’s parking lot. That’s bound to cheer up Jake.

Jake enjoys the sunshine during a rest stop.

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There’s one thing I notice when I ride on a motorcycle that I never remember even thinking about in a car — well only when there was a skunk around.

You smell everything on a bike.

We went for a ride a couple of Saturdays back and I was struck by the many smells of the season. It seemed like everywhere we went there were lilacs blooming and, allergies aside, it smelled incredible. Sometimes I could smell the lilacs before I could see them.

You really notice those things on a bike because you’re out in the open air — the flowers, the sea air, the farms. I didn’t say all the odours were pleasant. Some of them are decidedly not. In fact, since I already mentioned skunks, just imagine how overwhelming that charming scent is on a bike given how strong it is in a car.

I often wonder if Jake’s little black nose is doing overtime in his carrier behind me. Like most dogs, our Cairn has a very sensitive nose and you can tell when he’s using it. It’s either tracking on the ground, poking around a bush or sniffing up in the air. The latter is what I picture him doing when we ride.

Being a typical boy dog as I’ve said before, Jake likes anything that stinks. I’m sure he’s delighted when we come across a proverbial dead skunk in the middle of the road and would probably like nothing better than to go roll around in the manure we smell as we ride by a farm. What is it with some dogs that the worse it smells the more they want to roll in it? I don’t understand it, but Jake’s definitely got it. I’m sure that little nose just twitches in anticipation of what he thinks of as fun.

Having said that, in the spirit of being fair, I’m certain Jake’s nose was also sniffing the air on the day the lilacs were so pungent. He likes to stop and smell the flowers in my gardens, although I sometimes wonder if that isn’t just a delaying tactic to stay outside longer.

But most likely, just like Steve and I, his favourite scent is that of a barbecue. You have no idea how many people barbecue around here until you ride around on a motorcycle, getting a whiff here and a whiff there. It makes me contemplate what we’ll barbecue when we get home after our ride. It probably makes our boy dog — who is all about his tummy — think the same thing.

This is the face of an unhappy RoadDog.

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Jake had a lousy weekend.

It’s a funny thing how you can tell when a dog is mad at you. If you’ve never been owned by a dog (that’s the real relationship, not the other way around), you’re probably rolling your eyes right now. But anyone who’s shared the human-canine bond knows exactly what I mean.

You get that cold shoulder, that I’m glad you’re home greeting followed by … nothing. You’re completely and deliberately ignored. Jake has actually on occasion found a place to lie down with his back to us.

There was some of that going on in our house on Saturday evening. I left early that morning for the day (I’ll come back to that part). Our bike club had the annual poker run so Steve pulled out midmorning on the bike leaving Jake at home. That’s where things got testy. Our RoadDog does not like to see that bike leave the driveway without him. He doesn’t even like it when Steve takes the motorcycle to work, but at least he seems to grasp that he can’t go. But on a sunny Saturday … Steve was in big trouble.

By the time I arrived home shortly after 5 p.m., the lines had been drawn. Jake came to greet me, then proceeded to completely ignore Steve or at least tried to for the remainder of the evening. He adores Steve so he finds it difficult to maintain that silence for long.

Anyway, I’m told the club had a good poker run. Steve spent enough time sucking up to Jake that he was forgiven, and me … well I got a motorcycle licence. That’s right. I’m now licenced to ride on public streets, at least as long as I’m home before dark for the next 30 days.

I was scheduled to take the Safety Service Nova Scotia course in July, but had a chance to go early and decided to do it. I won’t tell you much about it, partly because I’d hate to ruin the surprises for anyone who takes it in the future and partly because I’m trying to block it from my mind. I will say it’s absolutely exhausting, intensive training that anyone who has never driven a motorcycle should take before hitting the streets. I firmly believe it’s saving lives.

So thanks to Harry, Dave and Chris, the instructors, for sharing their wisdom and skills with encouragement and a sense of humour. They made us learn and they made sure we had fun doing it. Thanks to Steve for putting up with getting the cold shoulder from Jake, and thanks to Jake for forgiving us both even though he had a lousy weekend. Better days are coming little buddy.

Jake enjoys a rest stop in Chester.

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It happened again. Not that I’m surprised, but this time I wasn’t even off the bike.

The three of us — Steve, Jake and I — went for a ride on Sunday afternoon, just one of our usual short jaunts from home, through Mahone Bay and along Highway 325 to Chester. It was breezy along the waterfront in Western Shore, so I soon changed my mind from the ice cream I’d requested as we left our house to a stop at the Chester Timmy’s.

If you’ve ever driven by that particular location on a sunny, Sunday afternoon in the spring or summer, you’ll know that there are often a lot of bikers there. It’s a great stop for those riding out of the Halifax area or we sometimes meet up with people from the Valley or from the Bridgewater area.

When we pulled in on Sunday, there were probably close to 20 bikes in the parking lot and lots of people in leather standing around chatting. We took our usual spot, which happened to be open, at the back of the parking lot near the grass. It gives Jake a chance to run around a bit while he waits for his Timbit.

Anyway, I was just stepping off the bike when I heard a voice behind me say, “That’s the funniest thing I’ve ever seen.” As my feet hit the pavement I turned to find a woman standing next to me in biker wear. She was, of course, looking at Jake’s carrier as a second woman walked up alongside her. She also began talking about Jake.

As I knelt down to fasten Jake’s leash and get him out of his carrier, the women explained that they’d seen Jake’s carrier as we rode in, complete with bits of hair sticking out of the vents and his smiling face near the door. They just had to come and see him.

As Steve headed off to get our munchies, I chatted with the women and a few others who soon joined us, while Jake ran about and met them all, doing his little happy dance for his new friends. It turns out they were a group of about 10 riders from the Halifax area, all francophones. Steve returned, Jake devoured his bit to the amusement of all, and we chatted a bit longer about dogs and kids and biking and whatever.

As the group prepared to leave, the woman who had first spoken to us motioned to Jake and said “I bet you meet a lot of people like that.” We certainly do. We certainly do.

Jake and I check out my new bike.

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It’s confession time — I bought my own bike.

Steve had been suggesting that I’d enjoy having my own motorcycle for a couple of years and I kept putting him off. I’m not sure if he wants to toss me off the back of his, or if he really believes I’ll like the independence, or a bit of both.

However, last fall, when I saw an ad in our newspaper for a slightly used Kawasaki Vulcan 500, I just had a feeling that was the bike for me. I inquired and ended up buying it.

The problem is that I don’t have a motorcycle licence. It was so late in the year that I couldn’t get in the motorcycle course offered by the Nova Scotia Safety Council so I had to be content driving back and forth first in my parents driveway and then in my brother’s driveway. I quickly discovered that I like to go straight and fast, turns not quite so much.

Having already admitted that I’m not a big fan of cold-weather riding, it probably won’t surprise anyone that I wasn’t prepared to risk taking the safety course when it was first available in May. The course runs for several hours on Friday evening, then all day Saturday and all day Sunday. I concluded it might be way too chilly if I ended up with a cold and rainy weekend so I signed up for July. At least if it rains, it should be reasonably warm.

So now I’m waiting not so patiently until July 13 when, if I pass the course, I’ll be ready for the road.

How Jake will react to this new development remains to be seen. He’s always ridden with Steve and I on one bike. When we’re travelling along or stopped at a light or intersection, I often reach behind me and tuck my fingers through the wire mesh on the door of his carrier. Sometimes Jake licks my fingers, but most times I’m content just reminding him that I’m there.

One advantage with the second bike will be that I will likely be able to catch glimpses of just what Jake does back there in that carrier when we’re riding along the road. We’ve often wondered if he sits up or lies down. Does he stick his nose up to the door or stay well inside? Steve and I have joked about trying to take video of Jake as we ride, but we’ve never done it. Now at least I’m going to get the same peek at our RoadDog that other drivers get.

I can hardly wait.