Elbows up, Canada!

I was twelve when Canada's Prime Minister Lester Pearson decided that it was time for Canada to celebrate its independence by adopting a national flag to replace the flag known as the Canadian Ensign. The former flag placed too much emphasis on Canada's imperial roots. I remember the summer of 1964 when versions of our new flag were circulating seeking public consensus.

Ultimately our simple red and white maple leaf flag won the day.

When I began riding Vespas I sewed a modest Canadian flag on each of my riding jackets. That was pretty much the first and only time in my life that I had a Canadian flag on anything I owned. I did that because when I rode in the US, which I did on multiple occasions, I wanted people to know I was a proud Canadian.

Canadians never flew their flag anywhere near as much as Americans flew theirs. Most Canadians felt, to be honest, that Americans were far, far, far too addicted to the Stars and Stripes. 

All that said, if you look carefully, you will now see a Canadian flag on my Brompton.

There is one on the other side of the bike as well, and I have one on my helmet, and one on my helmet's winter shell.

I sewed one on the strap of my sling and there are now Canadian flags on our cars, one here...

...and one here as well...

... and we are also flying a Canadian flag on our balcony...

We are doing this because for the first time in our lifetime, Canada is under attack from the US. I never would have thought that would be possible. And yet that is what is happening. Our economy is being hammered by American tariffs, and as American democracy flails under a growing aggressive presidential dictatorship, our independence and our sovereignty are under attack by Americans, along with those of Panama and Greenland, all while an aggressive tariff war is being inflicted by Americans on the global economy.

We are now flying our flag not so much to make an impression on Americans, because that is pointless. We will never cross the border or buy American products so long as this insanity lasts. We are doing it to remind our fellow Canadians that we stand strong and defiant, because we cherish who we are as a nation.

Elbows up Canada!

Make sure your voice is heard by voting in the upcoming Federal election!

Riding into the past's present

Cemeteries make some people cringe. I get it.

To me they are interesting, and a nice way to find valuable context.

On my Vespa I visited family members at the Mount Royal cemetery, back in Montreal.

Here in Toronto, my Vespa took me across Toronto to see the intimate connections of Toronto to Vimy Ridge, including majestic Vimy oak trees, and the resting place of Walter Allward, the man who gave the Vimy Memorial to France in honour of Canada's soldiers who fought and lost their lives in World War I.

Back in Montreal, in suburban Beaconsfield actually, my grandfather's resting place is in the Last Post Cemetery, one of the few military cemeteries in Canada. Georges Terroux fought in World War I. I would often ride my Vespa to visit his grave, and it was also within dog-walking distance from our home. 

My Brompton, all by itself, doesn't get me too far from home, but we do have a cemetery within bicycle range. And that cemetery has its share of surprising wonders.

Among them: 

• a member of the Romanov family who escaped from the Bolshevik revolution, Imperial Highness Grand Duchess Olga Alexandrovna of Russia;


• THE Tim Horton (yes THE doughnut king!);


• and yet another amazing individual you are about to meet.

Last year I found the princess and the king, but I couldn't manage to find the person whose resting place meant the most to me.

It's completely appropriate that her resting place eluded me.

Having lived an amazing and very public life, Barbara Frum is now very much sheltered and protected. It's as if she is wary of public life, in death, and seeks to avoid attention.

It's almost poetic.

To access her tomb, first you need to find it. It's not really visible the way most graves are. In the height of summer it all but disappears in the greenery. That's because it is a modest intimate gravel rectangle completely surrounded by hedges, with a single narrow gated stone passage on one end. The headstone is not in any way visible from outside the hedged enclosure.

Even in leafless early spring, it's still hard to find.

Once you do, you find the narrow passage through the hedge guarded by a massive cast-iron gate.

There is no catch, latch, or lock. All you need is a fairly hefty push to gradually open the gate and enter Barbara Frum's presence. A final obstacle is an unadorned grey stone high curb that makes you turn right as you enter the enclosure so that at first you face the hedge, instead of the headstone.   

True to her spirit, Barbara Frum's gravesite lacks any trace of typical pomp and circumstance. Her tombstone is very bare and does its best to be inconspicous. It faces inwards, into the gravel-covered, hedge-surrounded space, doesn't face the enclosure entrance, and faces away from the cemetery's open spaces. Such humility is rarely seen in any cemetery.

Who is this Barbara Frum, you ask?

She was the soul of CBC's As it Happens. I have such fond memories of commuting in a car and listening to the most amazing news stories. Like when in the spring of 1977 there was a large hostage event in three office buildings in Washington D.C. Barbara Frum managed to have one of the hostage takers on the phone at the B'nai Brith offices, and was speaking with him. She asked the guy to hold the line, they had another person to speak to. On the other line she managed to get the Washington D.C. police chief. Have you spoken to the hostage takers, she asked. No, came the reply, we can't reach them, and we don't have time to talk to you, we have our hands full. I have them on the other line, Ms. Frum said. And that's when the negotiations began. It kind of left me speechless. No? This was not an isolated bombshell, Barbara Frum managed to do this kind of incredible in-depth reporting week in, and week out.

So here you now have a tiny slice of my present, and of Barbara Frum's present.

Finding it, and sharing it with you, was easy-ish, thanks to my trusty Brompton, presently the key ingredient in my life on two wheels.

Bookbinding challenges - Building a piercing cradle

Bookbinding is a holy endeavour.

Relax! This has absolutely nothing to do with religion at all. Not even in any remote, metaphorical way.

I say it's "holy" because once you figure out the deeply strange domain of signatures (yes there will be episodes here devoted to the magic of signatures), the next thing you must do, if you plan to make your way to a beautiful leather-bound book with gilded pages, is to punch holes in the fold of the signatures.

The thing is, of course, that the holes can't be just anywhere, ideally, they must be right in the middle of the fold crease. In addition, the position of the holes should be identical in each signature.

As I experimented with signatures, I applied what I learned from Chanel of Bitter Melon Bindery. If you tend to be nervous or anxious, even if you have no interest whatsoever in bookbinding, check out Chanel's channel (odd, I just saw that - Chanel channel). Chanel is an expert bookbinder, and also a wonderfully calming person.

I learned everything I thought I needed to know from Chanel about hole punching. Following Chanel's lesson, I made a piercing guide, and bought an awl.

I figured I was set. So I punched holes in all my test signatures as they were printed, folded, and proofread.

Then a couple of weeks ago I looked closely at my draft signatures, and saw that my holes weren't as aligned as they ought to be.

Fortunately, Dennis of Four Keys Book Arts, another very gifted bookbinder, taught me I would be well served if I had a piercing cradle. Click here to watch the lesson I learned.

Following his guidance in his YouTube video, and only using the materials I had available, I was able to craft my own piercing cradle. Since the materials I had couldn't exactly match Dennis' measurements, first I made a test model from a sheet of paper.

Since that worked, I proceeded to make an actual piercing cradle from the book board I had and some scrap leather.

My piercing cradle will absolutely essential once I print the final version of the twenty-three signatures that make up the book I am making in their proper format, on really nice paper, in colour.

There will be no room for errors.

Using the piercing cradle, the holes I punched are now quite nicely aligned.

Bookbinding challenges - beginnings

Bookbinding is a hobby that has appealed to me for quite a while.

It began when I chose my career.

No, wait...

as I reflect on this, it truly started with books.

The earliest book I loved was a hardcover early 1941 edition of Curious George. I must have gotten it as a gift from my mother when I was three or four, so 1955 or 1956. I still have that book, it's in my library, quite beaten up, with love.

The iconic book jacket is long gone.

Books, books, books.

School meant more books. By the time I was done with school, books had literally framed my life. I once told my nephews when the eldest told me he was in grade three, that I was in grade 27. Their look of shock and disbelief was cute.

Early in my career as a lawyer, I started collecting leather-bound classics. As time passed, I received more leather-bound books as gifts.

Later still, I was responsible for selecting gifts to honour a prominent CEO on his retirement. One of the gifts was a custom-made, small, leather-bound book, in a custom case, that told the story behind another gift, a perfect reproduction of an iconic item from the company's historical collection from its private museum.

The process of creating that book introduced me to the brilliant bookbinder who made it. She was from Paris, and ran a bookbinding craft shop in Montreal where she and her colleagues also taught bookbinding.

A few years later I was working at another company that freed up a little time. I decided to take a bookbinding course taught by that very talented bookbinder. Among her skills was restoring medieval manuscripts. Wow.

Binding a custom-made book is a curious recipe combining paper, folding paper, measuring precisely, cutting exact shapes, sewing French stitches, and kettle stitches, practical geometry, a surprisingly complicated series of mathematical formulas required to achieve what is referred to as the imposition of pages and sheets to form signatures, and lots of sticky messy glue.

Finally, I am in the midst of actually creating my very first book from scratch.

I am lucky to be doing that now, because YouTube is a stage on which very talented bookbinders teach the intricacies of the craft.

I still have the tools I purchased when I took that bookbinding course (a steel ruler, a scalpel, two dividers, and a cutting mat). I recently added a bookbinding needle, waxed thread, special glue, brushes and a few other tools. I have also made some necessary tools (a book press and a hole punching guide) and I am now in the midst of making a piercing cradle. Oh... there's software too!

There is a lot I want to share on this journey of discovery, so that means that this is the first in a series of posts I plan to share. I may even decide to make a video or two. Time will tell.

I suppose that technically, this whole process is the polar opposite of Life on two wheels. This is not careening on a spontaneous journey on the spur of the moment. This is definitely slow and steady. It's not even life on four wheels. It's deep and thoughtful life, at a desk.

Who knows... if you are here, bookbinding may be in your future too.

I am honoured, truly!

I recently received news from Anuj Agarwal of Feedspot that this blog had been rated in the top 100 moto blogs.

“I would like to personally congratulate you as your blog Life on two wheels has been selected by our panelist as one of the Top 100 Motorcycle Blogs on the web. This is the most comprehensive list of Top 100 Motorcycle Blogs on the internet and I'm honored to have you as part of this!”

I can't begin to say how much I appreciate the recognition. It means a lot to me.

Thank you Anuj.

Back to 'normal'?

On Tuesday, April 1, 2025, ironically April Fools Day, I declared myself 100% recovered from my stupid overworking of my right leg on a morning ride on Tuesday, August 29, 2023. That the issue started and came to an end on Tuesdays, is just a silly coincidence that I discovered just now as I was punching the dates into my trusty date calculator. 581 days is a long painful time.

Well it's behind me now, and I feel blessed.

I am gradually getting back to my weekday routine. ~35 minutes of exercises (before the misery it was only 17 minutes, but the recovery path involved more exercise), followed by a bike ride.

I have taken my bike out each of the last three mornings.

I love to ride. That's why I live my life on two wheels.

This morning I was blessed with fog.