A maple leaf smacks into my handlebars before flying off.

Just nature’s way of high-fiving me, I guess.

Our bikes snake down the country roads, engines rumbling like a bunch of happy bears.

Then we hit the roundabout, and it gets wild.

I’m just rolling up to the circle, and I can see our whole group at once. The lead bikes are already heading out, others are halfway around, and I’m just starting my turn. It’s like watching yourself walk into a revolving door while watching yourself walk out – if that makes any sense. For a second, we’re this weird motorcycle sandwich, crossing paths and probably confusing the heck out of anyone watching.

Speaking of weird stuff, ever had a hair tickle your nose inside your helmet? Pure torture. You’re cruising along, then suddenly – TICKLE. Your brain screams “BEE!” and you’re doing everything you can not to ditch the bike and run screaming. Spoiler alert: it’s always just a hair.

And don’t get me started on these gloves. Ever tried to scratch your nose wearing oven mitts? That’s what it’s like hitting the turn signal with my stubby thumb while keeping the clutch in. Click it on, miss, try again, finally click it on, forget it’s on, panic, stretch thumb again… It’s like playing Twister with just your left hand.

But hey, that’s riding for you. One minute you’re in a graceful motorcycle ballet, the next you’re waging war with your own hair. Wouldn’t have it any other way.