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Okay, I surrender. Last week, I whined about the rain and a couple of weeks before that I said I wanted to go for one more ride before we put the bikes away for the winter. Hello, Mother Nature, I give up now.

Friday night, with a winter storm in the forecast, Steve and I bought a new gas can for the motorcycles. We accepted that we weren’t going to get to ride to the gas station to top up our tanks and run the stabilizer through the engines.

Instead, yesterday afternoon, Steve poured the stabilizer in the tanks while the bikes sat in the garage, filled up the tanks and backed the bikes to the door one by one to let the engines run for a few minutes. Then he took out the batteries and put the motorcycles on their jacks. Now, we just need to give them a good cleaning and put the covers on them for the winter.

Meanwhile, I was inside putting away the gear. I don’t know if everyone has a fall to winter routine quite like ours — that hour when I move the lightweight jackets, sandals and some of the shoes to an upstairs closet and bring down the winter jackets and boots to the closet near the door. Jake watched while I went through the whole thing, but didn’t really look all that interested.

However, I definitely had his attention when I carried our leather chaps and vests up the stairs. When I took our bike jackets up after that, he followed, looking at me like I was committing a felony. Next, it was the boots and he honestly did look as unhappy as I’ve ever seen him as he trotted along beside me and stared while I put the boots in a little-used closet. I don’t know how he understands so much, but I know he knows he’s now a grounded RoadDog.

It’s not all doom and gloom, however. Jake loves to ride with us, but he also loves snow so he’s not totally downcast. He thought he was in heaven Saturday morning, well at least once we’d shovelled out enough that he could get through the white stuff. Once the driveway is clear, we always make a path so he can run right around the house, so he was happy to be able to race and play.

The only problem is that he is, of course, a big dog with short legs, so when he dives into a snow bank, he tends to get caught up on his belly and has a hard time getting back out to the path. We have a hard time not laughing. That would, undoubtedly, offend our tough guy.
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Okay, so is there anything sadder than a warm weekend in November when all it does is rain? Well, maybe an entire week of rain in July, which we had earlier this year.

Steve’s brought his bike home on Saturday and I’ll be sharing more details on that little project soon, as promised, but could it not have stopped raining for just a few hours so we could squeeze in that last ride of 2008? It was so warm, but just too wet and windy to even think seriously about heading out on the roads. We considered ourselves pretty lucky that Steve managed to stay dry coming home on Saturday morning.

It’s a fact of life when you ride a motorcycle that you occasionally get caught in the rain, particularly if you’re travelling. That’s one thing. You don’t have to like it, but you have to accept it. It’s something else to actually set out to ride in the rain. I know there are diehard riders out there who say it doesn’t matter. I’m just not one of them, nor am I ever likely to be.

Actually, it can be kind of funny in a strange sort of way to get caught in the rain. I remember one day when we were on vacation in New England last summer. We’d decided to extend our trip a bit and go down to Bar Harbor. If we were going to go and still get home in time to get back to work, we had no choice, we had to ride, but we literally got soaked to the skin.

I remember standing underneath a gas bay at a service station at one point, drinking hot coffee, waiting for the rain to slow down. People look at you so strangely — an odd mix of “are you nuts to be out here on a day like today” and “oh that’s so pathetic, you look like drowned rats.” All we could do was shrug and laugh and wait for the rain to slow down. We eventually checked into a motel in Bar Harbor and spent a couple of hours trying to dry out our clothes. There were boots and jackets and jeans and gloves strewn around the room, but they dried and so did we. Then it was back on the bike.

Needless to say, Jake doesn’t really care so much about the rain. We have a cover that goes over the top of his carrier, so he stays dry and warm. He enjoyed our little stop for coffee under the gas bay. I seem to remember passing out doggie treats fairly liberally, since I felt sorry for him. Interesting, since he was dry and I was drenched. Our RoadDog just carries on … ready to go whenever we are.

Jake acting prince-like during our stay in Annapolis Royal.

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It may be time to let everyone in on a couple of family secrets — Jake is not a typical dog and it’s possible that we spoil him just a little bit.

Okay, so you already knew that, but it couldn’t hurt to remind you as I set out to tell you about how he slept in a royal bed this summer. Well, it wasn’t exactly a royal bed, but it was a bed once slept in by royalty — King George V in 1884 when he was still the Prince of Wales to be exact.

Back in August when Steve and I set out to tour the lower loop of the province through Shelburne, Yarmouth and Digby, as usual we booked our accommodations in advance. I’ve explained before that when you travel on a motorcycle with a dog it really is imperative that you do that.

In my search for pet-friendly locations, I came across the Hillsdale House Inn in Annapolis Royal. This is not a place that looks like it would be pet-friendly. It is a grand historic property filled with antiques and finery of all varieties, surrounded by manicured lawns and fantastic gardens. As I checked out the website, I recall being hugely surprised that this inn would allow Jake to enter on the premises. Then I discovered why.

The owners of the Hillsdale House Inn, Paul and Val, have pets of their own, a beautiful Bernese mountain dog named Hannah and Simon, a Siamese cat. We later learned that they’ve added a second cat to the mix, although I confess I can’t recall its name.

So when it came time to book our accommodations for our four-day jaunt, Steve and I decided that we really had to try the Hillsdale House Inn. In our defence, I have to say we didn’t try to stay in the room that advertised having the queen size bed where George V once slept. It’s a suite of sorts and we were trying for something a little smaller. But, alas, when you wait for the weather forecast, book at the last minute and travel with a big dog with short legs, you sometimes take whatever room is available. This time around we had to spend a little more to rough it like royalty.

The Hillsdale House Inn turned out to be everything we expected. It was absolutely stunningly gorgeous with lovely food and service. We arrived mid-evening rather chilly and were treated to a tea tray in our rooms. I then took a bath in a Victorian claw foot tub as Steve and Jake lounged on what we dubbed the bed fit for a prince.

It most definitely met the approval of our little prince.

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Wow, that’s a long way down. Jake checks out a wharf at Peggy’s Cove.

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It’s the saddest time of the year for those of us who ride motorcycles — we have to prepare to say good-bye to our two-wheeled comrades for the season.

I don’t know how many non-riders have noticed, but there are fewer and fewer bikes on the roads as we head into the middle of fall and the temperatures begin to drop lower and lower. A warm afternoon brings out a few, but only the hearty are still riding regularly.

Steve and I haven’t been out for a ride since the middle of October. His bike has been tied up in a shop, not for repairs, but for what I’ll call modifications which I’ll soon be able to explain. I think our last day out was October 18, when we went for a drive from Bridgewater to Lunenburg to Mahone Bay and home following the Wishmaker Parade.

But I refuse to give up and admit that winter is coming. I’m still hopeful that we’ll get a sunny weekend afternoon when we can bundle up and hit the road. I’m hoping for one more trip to Peggy’s Cove, which is one of our favourite rides. The roads have lots of twists and turns and it’s very scenic. Jake loves to scramble over the rocks and meet people when we get there.

I have to admit that I have another, rather selfish reason for wanting another trip to Peggy’s Cove before winter, but I would bet you’d never guess what it is. Here’s a hint — it has to do with Jake.

Being a boy dog who is basically against grooming of any kind, Jake does not enjoy having his nails trimmed and scrambling over the rocks does a beautiful job of wearing them down. By the time we leave Peggy’s Cove, he’s had a pedicure that no trimmer and nail file could ever match and, even better, he’s happy about it.

So for all our sakes, I’d really like another trip to Peggy’s Cove before we have to accept that the riding season is ending. It will be good for all of us — the wind in our faces, the relaxation of the ride and the bonus doggie pedicure.

Jake and I take a rest after scrambling of the rocks at Peggy’s Cove earlier this year.

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