Two Wheels, Five gears, and a Compass

Two Wheels, Five Gears, and a Compass

​by Madi A. 03/2026

How does riding start? Usually, it begins at a very young age as a dream, a vision of the person you want to become. The feeling embeds itself into your soul. It may stay silent for years, but it isn’t just about when you start; it’s about when you are ready. Her journey began with a dream shared between two young girls. She and her cousin Sami were barely a decade old, a little rebellious, whispering together in a parking lot while sitting on their bicycles. They promised each other that one day, they would get motorcycles and ride to find their mothers. They were cousins by adoption, their mothers were sisters, and rebels by choice. That dream ran through her veins for thirty years, surviving the silence of adulthood until the timing was finally right.

​It starts with a machine. Most times, the first one isn't the one you choose, but the one you get, until the next one comes along. Before 1994, motorcycle licensing was different from the Graduated Licensing System (GLS). Even though it’s been almost twenty years since she started riding, her journey started over five decades ago. She was very busy raising her children and providing for her family as a single parent, but finally, the time came.

​She registered for her license during an early spring weekend course. It was a rainy, cool day, and she was hesitant about what to wear and what to expect. She searched the web for suggestions, confident in what she wanted to accomplish but unsure of how to get there. With her leather boots, DOT-approved helmet, gloves, and jacket, she tackled that technical weekend. It ended with an M2 license, her "permission slip" to get on the open road and go anywhere, anytime.

​Being a passenger is invigorating, but it lacks that true feeling of freedom. Now, she has a ritual before every ride. She takes a few minutes to be one with her bike. She sits still, focuses, and reflects on where she is going and where she has been. She thanks the universe for the opportunity and says, "Let’s go do this, have fun, and let’s get back home safe." Every season, she ensures her Guardian Bell is securely attached to the underside of the bike. As per the legend, it has to be gifted; it fights off the "evil road spirits" that cause mechanical issues or mishaps. Only those who ride truly understand that connection; others just don't get it.

​Every morning, she gets up a little earlier to gear up for work. As long as it's 10°C or above with no storms in the forecast, it’s a two-wheeled morning. The moment the city sweeps the winter sand off the main roads, it's "GO time." The ride home usually takes longer, as she often "gets lost" on the bypasses. That is true freedom.

​On weekends, the riding community comes together for poker runs, toy runs, and awareness rides. She enjoys the shared passion and sense of purpose, building lasting friendships through charity and camaraderie.

​The compass is her only tool. Her first machine was a Yamaha Maxim 750cc. It wasn't just metal and wheels; it was a lifestyle. After thousands of kilometers, she upgraded to a Yamaha V-Star 1300cc, the bike she chose, with double the power and the comfort needed for the long haul.

​With the V-Star, the road trips grew longer. She and Sami began planning weekend getaways. They aren't the type to "stop and pop a tent"; they prefer a real roof, but the stories from those trips are legendary. There was the time she had to pull over because she thought she'd lost her glasses, only to find them perched on her head once she removed her helmet. Sami once had to pull over because she was laughing so hard she couldn't ride; her helmet strap had loosened so much it migrated to the back of her head, leaving her face exposed. During their road trip west to Edmonton, Sami bought a new bike, and they almost collided with a stray radio antenna that flew off Sami’s bike. Speaking of debris, they both had to maneuver with precision as two plastic lawn chairs flew out of a truck bed directly in front of them. 

Then, there was the ride in Northern Ontario when Sami nearly locked up her brakes to avoid a deer crossing the road. Moving from 110 km/h to zero requires absolute technical mastery. As her "Tail Gunner," it took everything she had to keep her bike upright while maneuvering to the shoulder. She hoped the traffic behind them noticed her emergency signals as she tapped her helmet and extended her left arm, waving it down to communicate the urgency. Once the deer doubled back into the ditch, both bikes were safely on the side of the road, heart rates spiking, but bikes upright.

Then there were the insects; countless times she had to make emergency stops because a wasp or bee stung her. She always carries an EpiPen, because nature isn't always kind.

​Riding the coastline of the East Coast is a sensory masterpiece: the sound of the ocean, the smell of the salt air, and the views along the Cabot Trail. She has ridden it clockwise and counterclockwise just to see if there was a difference. From the Gaspé Peninsula to the Halifax Harbour, through the tall ships in Pictou and the outside coastline of PEI, every stop for a casse-croûte poutine or a seafood meal at Fisherman's Wharf is a memory etched in time.

​Every summer, she has gathered at the New Liskeard Bikers Reunion, a major Northern Ontario cancer fundraiser and rally. While the event paused for a time, its return has been a highlight. She fondly remembers the "Freedom Ride" parade, the most beautiful sentiment, riding through the Tri-towns as the community rallies, toddlers hold "We love you bikers" signs, and emergency services stand at attention to honor the riders. It is an emotional experience that is almost impossible to navigate without tearing up.

Beyond the spectacle, the soul of the reunion is found in the people. One year, she found herself sitting at a table near an elderly couple who were sitting alone. She introduced herself and invited them to join her group. They were original riders from the 1990s, having traveled on their motorcycle all the way from Attawapiskat, a journey of 568 kilometers north of New Liskeard. That night, they made a pact: they would meet yearly at that same table during the Saturday event.

​For a few years, they kept that promise, proving that the camaraderie of the road is untouchable. Then came a year when the couple was not present. She sat at the table for hours, waiting, before eventually joining another group. Suddenly, she felt a tap on her shoulder. She turned quickly, but there was no one there. A few moments later, she felt a pair of arms wrap around her in a familiar, friendly hug. The woman had been searching for her; she was late, and she brought the sad news that her husband had passed away over the winter. Her family was there to honor him in a ritual ceremony, and she invited her to join them. With open arms and welcoming words, they celebrated the life of an original road warrior. To this day, she feels that the tap on her shoulder was his way of letting his wife know that a friend was nearby.

​She has crossed borders and explored the northern U.S. states, from the beauty of Mackinac Island to the whimsical town of Hell, Michigan, with its "Chapel of Love", devilish charm and "Hell's Saloon". Each mile leaves a piece of memory in her journey.

In some states, she observed that they do not follow the universal helmet law, allowing riders over twenty-one to ride without head protection. While some riders view this as the "ultimate freedom," she saw it as a feeling compromised by risk, a choice to waive their right to safety for a moment of liberation that often proved to be very short-lived. To her, the feeling of having her hair flow in the wind is not worth the true freedom; it's staying safe enough to keep riding tomorrow.

​There is no feeling like starting that V-twin engine. The "clunk" of stepping down into first gear, the roar as she accelerates, and that final "clack" as she hits the top gear and the RPMs drop into a rhythmic, cruising vibration.

​One day, when she is old and unable to ride, she will reach for her photos and maps and look at her motorcycle as a trophy, a reward for a life well-lived. But until then, she’ll be waiting for the temperature to hit 10°C and the sweepers to clear the sand. She’ll be ready to slap that clutch down to first and click up four for maximum speed.

New Liskeard Biker Reunion

Rider parade in 2022

Making memories since 2007