In 2003, on a ride from Ottawa to Saskatoon for a family reunion, I made a point to stop in the town of Duluth, and its fabled Aerostich factory store. After staying at a dump of a motel just outside of Duluth, I made my way to the store on a rainy, foggy Monday morning. I was impressed with the suits and jackets, but my budget was limited and I already had a fairly new, high-quality leather jacket. I settled on a couple of T-shirts and a few other odds and ends.
On my way out of town, I found myself in fog patches, some of it very thick — I could barely see in front of me. While climbing a hill at about 10 km/h, trying to see something — anything — I had the fright of my life when I noticed a red light, very close, and almost above me. I was in the middle of an intersection, going through a red light! I couldn’t see, and the realization that traffic could be coming the other way sent a bolt of fear through me. I made a quick calculation and realized I was probably mostly through the intersection, so I carried on with a little more speed. Within about a minute, I was out of the heaviest of the fog,
