As I turn around and walk back to the tollbooth, I encounter something that is at once implausible, surprising, and very intriguing. There, in line and slowly pulling up, is a sport touring Hayabusa. As I approach, I register the scene in the following order:

• A shiny blue Hayabusa, sporting colour-matched Corbin Beetle bags and a huge black hockey duffle bag strapped across the seat.
• The rider looks somewhat slender and is wearing a royal blue windbreaker over the riding jacket and thick, heavy ski gloves.
• Through the open Shoei visor I notice attractive eyes that definitely belong to a young woman!
• Peeking out of the tankbag is a small trembling dog, with its head darting here and there.

I'm startled by the the dog. I burst out in a spontaneous laugh and give her an enthusiastic thumbs up. I pay my toll and walk back to my bike.

I’m slowly gearing up, hoping that she’ll stop by and chat. After a long, cold, and drizzly night, this unexpected apparition has lifted my spirits. A short exchange would feel good.

Doesn't happen. She pays her toll and waves as she rides past. I'm a little disappointed.

Hmm. . . let’s see what we have here: A ‘Busa-packin’ girl, loaded for touring, travelling alone, and with a dog to boot !"

Well, I can’t let this go by without getting the story behind it! I mount up and ride off. I quickly have her in my sights as we go over the thousand-island bridge and slowly but deliberately start reeling her in.

[Humour mode on]: I’m approaching slowly. Don’t want to alarm her and have her blast that ‘Busa throttle only to have her disappear into thin air, you know. I'm a little fatigued by now, and I’d be left wondering if I’d just been the victim of a mirage! [Humour mode off].

We pull in at customs and I stop next to her. I look over and ask in French "Where are you coming from?" She looks at me and kind of shakes her head and shrugs in that international sign meaning I don’t understand. I’m thinking she might have earplugs on and repeat my question, this time louder. Same sign.

Hmm…., I’m puzzled. Seemed to me those eyes belonged to a French girl.

Me: tentatively "do you speak English?"

Her: nods yes

Me: "where are you coming from?"

Her: "California. I’m going to Montreal to visit some friends"

Me (repeating the answer in disbelief): "You’re coming from California and are going to Montreal to visit some friends?! "

Her: "Yes"

Me: (nodding my head) Wow! I give her a thumbs up and ride into an available line.

The customs agent is friendly and chats a little. She mentions that I should get electric gloves for this cold, that she has just ordered a pair as a gift for her husband. After a few quick questions and a shared laugh I breeze right through.

I stop by the side of the first building and set up my own customs/toll booth where I’m hoping that my ‘Busa-riding friend will stop. :)

Meanwhile, they seem to be asking her a lot of questions. At one point I see her get off the bike to open things up. It takes a while.

Just two hours south of here was rain and now it's sunny and clear blue sky. It feels good to bask in the soothing heat while I wait. What a difference in temperature with early morning, as I remember how cold it had felt when I finally stopped for breakfast at 6am.

It’s now 1:45 on Friday afternoon and I’ve been riding since I left Cherokee NC on Thursday morning. I pull out a small bottle of mouthwash from my tankbag. I take a swig, slosh around a bit, and spit it out on the grass. I may be looking a little frayed around the edges but I still want to be somewhat presentable!

And then she’s cleared. As she pulls away I look at her and make a hand gesture meaning "what took you so long?" She rides up and complains that they wanted to know all sorts of things.

No kidding!

At this point she is sitting on her bike with her helmet on as we chat. I’m standing with helmet and gloves off and jacket partly unzipped. I first say hello to her dog (a miniature Pinscher! ) and then introduce myself, shaking her gloved hand.

She asks about my trip and I give her a quick summary starting with the BMW Falling Leaf rally. I share my enthusiasm for the quality of riding roads that I found in Missouri, Arkansas, and Kentucky. Soon she gets off her bike and takes her helmet off. I ask her about her journey. We talk bikes a little, sharing how it’s neat to meet someone sport-touring on a sport bike.

I ask her about the ‘Busa and how that idea started. Turns out she’s been riding for ten or twelve years and at one point owned a K1100 BMW bike that she loved. But the K-bike was a little too tall and top- heavy for her to manage comfortably, especially loaded. She had dropped it a few times while performing slow speed U-turns on rougher roads and was looking for something more manageable. Then she found the ‘Busa and said that it fit her perfectly. She loved the handling and the power!

She mentions that she’s touring around the US and Canada. She then says she’s heading down the 401 to Montreal and asks me where I’m going. Same. Only, I’ll be crossing off-island and that implies bridges.

It’s now two o’clock and I’m thinking about bridge traffic that starts in earnest at around 3:30pm. There is a good two hour ride to Montreal. By then, I’ll have been on the bike for thirty hours, will be hot, weary, and in need of a shower. I just know that being stuck in Friday afternoon traffic will not be all it’s cracked up to be. :)

At this point, I have no idea what her riding abilities are and am reluctant to be held up as I carve my way down the 401. Chatting with her has been stimulating and interesting, but I need to beat traffic and get home before dinner. I look at her and mention my situation. Not knowing how to put it, I also mention that it’s possible that we become separated during the ride in. She looks at me matter of factly and says "well I know, but why don’t we just hang?"

Gulp! I hadn't expected this. I think for a split-second and then hear myself say: "Sure, let’s go!"

As often happens, traffic along the 401 eastbound moves at a good clip and we’re off and running. The temperature is comfortable and the air is refreshingly good. Given some of what I’ve been through last night, this is great weather to be homeward bound on.

We soon stop for gas and I realize that Norma (her name) must create a buzz wherever she goes. As soon as people see her get off the 'Busa, notice the dog, and the fact that she is female, well . . . .

However, this is a quick stop and there is little discussion between us; the clock is ticking. She takes a minute to walk the dog on the grass and then we’re off.

Had I been concerned about her riding abilities? No worries mate. She handles that ‘Busa with evident skill and is with me every inch of the way as we ride in formation through traffic. She is smooth and rides with precision. I enjoy that. Given the pace we often kept, I would be utterly comfortable at touring with her in formation.

Soon, we cross downtown Montreal and I raise my hand and point out her exit. As our bikes separate, another impromptu biker interaction comes to an end. Though we've e-mailed now and then over the year, that's was the last time I saw her.

Bruno
Montreal, Canada