Backseat - From Where I Sit

February 2004

By: Michelle

Starting Trouble

It’s hard to get motivated to write an article about motorcycling when the bike is in the shop. For some strange reason, it doesn’t want to start without a fight when it’s below 20 degrees - sort of a Harley version of hitting the snooze button a few times instead of jumping out of bed on the first alarm.

To make matters worse, we have about 5 inches of snow on the ground with the threat of additional freezing rain hanging over our heads. Of course along with this comes the aches and pains of snow shoveling. Kent looks so cold out there, my heart aches for him as I watch from the window. And then there are those horrible scraping sounds of the metal shovel scraping against the pavement that send shooting pains through my head that can only be relieved by pulling the covers tightly over both ears. It’s just miserable but it’s a fate I must suffer in a household with only one snow shovel.

Being snow-bound should be the perfect time to feverishly plan for and fantasize about that first glorious spring ride. A time when we don’t have to worry about slipping on black ice, lugging around 50 lbs of winter riding gear and worrying whether or not the bike will start. But there is about 15 lbs standing between us and this blissful state of Nirvana and its name is Phil - Punxsutawney Phil to be exact. Yep, I am talking about that legendary fur-ball that is supposed to tell us whether we will have 6 more weeks of winter.

I’ve been doing some checking on this great prognosticator – and the news isn’t good. He’s about 7 times more likely to see his shadow that not. But then how would you react if someone yanked you out of a heated burrow at 7:25 am on a cold February morning and shoved you under a fake tree stump in front of a bunch of cameras? I think running from my shadow would probably be the least offensive thing I did. Personally, I think he predicts more bad weather as a matter of revenge and who could blame him?

I say, we are going about this all wrong. Phil needs to get out more. See the world. Go for a ride. If we could somehow turn this groundhog into a “groundhawg”, I guarantee we would get a lot less of this wimpy running from his shadow drama. In fact, if he were truly converted, his handlers would probably be a lot less willing to stick a hand down in that warm burrow and drag him out. Let’s slap some leather on the little guy and take him on a Polar Bear Ride he soon won’t forget. Long winters will soon be a thing of the past.

Then again, if all else fails, I may just have to give up my vegetarian tendencies. Does anyone know a really good recipe for groundhog stew?

Thanks for visiting VirginiaWind.

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