Linda Vienneau, Moncton, New Brunswick
Age: 34

I have been riding since I was 12 years old. We used to ride my Dad’s Suzuki 100 around the yard. At 20, I bought my first bike (a Honda Shadow). I loved it even though it was tall for me. A year later, my dream bike was the Suzuki Intruder with the 21-inch tire. I got married, sold my bike and had kids. When my kids were old enough to fit in a helmet (around 3-years-old) I bought my Intruder 750. We go on family rides with my husband, my mom and my dad (we each have a bike). The kids enjoy rallies and rides where we stop at the park.

After being a stay-at-home mom for 7 years, I took an on-line motorcycle repair course and this winter, I took her apart down to the frame. My husband gave it a new paint job. I re-assembled the bike without any nuts or bolts left over. It was the most rewarding feeling to go on that first ride knowing I did the whole re-assembly myself. She is my new baby.

So to all the readers out there, male or female, if you have a goal or a dream, believe in yourself, you can do it! I did!

P.S. We subscribed to your mag this winter and we both read it front to back-keep up the good work!

Janet Breen, Pearsonville, New Brunswick
Age: 53

Biking: 33 yrs
Current Makes/Models:
1982 Yamaha 650 cc SECA
2004 Honda 1300 cc VTX

I had to chip in, seeing Candace Slack is restoring an ’81 Yamaha 650 SECA. I have an ’82 SECA that I still ride. My husband found out how quick it is as I zinged past him during our first trip to New Brunswick. He had let off thinking he’d left me behind with his Honda VTX 1300. Not so fast, chum!

We both have 1300 VTXs and despite commuting 180 km round trip, what springs to my mind on a gorgeous sunny day? “Let’s go for a ride!” I’ve liked bikes since I was 13, when the movie Easy Rider came out. My first bike was a used 350 Honda with no shocks, which I found out after dumping it doing 80 mph on a gravel road and a week later, on streetcar tracks, re-opening all of the road rash.

TRIPS: Across Canada and into the US. The hairiest adventure was getting my ’82 Virago from Ontario to England via the RAF out of Gander, Newfoundland. On a schedule, wedding dress in the saddlebag, I had no choice of weather. A girlfriend rode with me as far as Fredericton. It poured from Quebec City on, down that lonely 2-laner through New Brunswick, on-coming transports blinding and showering us. I’ll never forget the look of fear on her face at our parting point at 4 a.m. after warming up over coffee and wringing out our socks. A year later, when I visited with my firstborn, she showed me her commemorative T-shirt.

Watching the reaches of northern Cape Breton roll by in the morning mist, following the cars off the ferry through the evening fog from Port-aux-Basques to Cornerbrook, and slowing down after the hair rose on my neck, in time for the moose to cross in front of me in the middle of the Rock at midnight, are among the many biking stories I am itching to tell grandchildren.

Keep the rubber side down!