Night riding back in Toronto is not really that eventful, aside from the occasional (frequent) expressway dodging exercise, graphically represented as such:
thanks for signaling
Now, turning into a swerving, apathetic, sack of suburban regret and monotony is something of a rite of passage for most 30-somethings (stretch-40), but riding into Innsbruck in the dead of night through a mountain pass under a thunderstorm really made one feel alive. Not to mention, in equal measure envious and defiant to the idea of relative safety presented by a seatbelt and metal cage. When the descent into Innsbruck was complete, we found a jewel of a city nestled in the Alps. And next morning, I found a surprise foreign object nestled in my rear axle.
canadianpeacocks 