Round Trip: How I Found Myself on Three Wheels

By Wendy McGean

Have you ever wanted to run away from your life? Wendy McGean did exactly that at 55 when she hopped on her Can-Am Spyder to complete a solo ride across Canada. After a tough couple of years in which she lost a parent and left her marriage and her job, she set out in search of a new way to live her life. Join Wendy on her journey, best described as part mid-life crisis and part love letter to Canada, to share her experiences and lessons learned.

• Language: English
• Publisher: Tellwell Talent
• Release date: Apr 9, 2021
• ISBN: 9780228841852

Wendy McGean

Wendy McGean is a Canada Coach Academy graduate and pending certification from the International Coaching Federation (ICF). Working effectively with people has been a lifelong passion for Wendy that began with Dale Carnegie training three decades ago. A Saint Mary's University Bachelor of Commerce graduate, she spent thirty years in the corporate IT world supporting Michelin, IBM, and Bombardier. After choosing early retirement in 2019, Wendy decided to completely change directions and set off on a solo motorcycle tour across Canada. This is Wendy's first book. The complementary podcast, Round Trip with Wendy McGean, has attracted listeners from over 20 countries. She is also an accomplished artist, creating visual arts to open up her world.

Book preview

Round Trip

How I Found Myself on Three Wheels

Wendy McGean

Round Trip

Copyright © 2021 by Wendy McGean

All rights reserved. No part of this publication may be reproduced, distributed, or transmitted in any form or by any means, including photocopying, recording, or other electronic or mechanical methods, without the prior written permission of the author, except in the case of brief quotations embodied in critical reviews and certain other non-commercial uses permitted by copyright law.

Tellwell Talent

www.tellwell.ca

ISBN

978-0-2288-4184-5 (Hardcover)

978-0-2288-4183-8 (Paperback)

978-0-2288-4185-2 (eBook)

Inspired by my late father -

Simon Patrick McGean.

Dedicated to Vanessa and Kayleigh -

Fearlessly and unapologetically follow your own unique paths.

Table of Contents

Introduction

Foreword

Chapter 1. The Backstory

Chapter 2. Preparing for the Ride

Chapter 3. Québec – A Reset

Chapter 4. New Brunswick – Wildlife and Help!

Chapter 5. Prince Edward Island – The Great Outdoors

Chapter 6. Nova Scotia – Reunions and Progress

Chapter 7. Newfoundland - Ferries, Cape Spear and Moose

Chapter 8. Nova Scotia – Home

Chapter 9. Back to Montreal

Chapter 10. Western Leg Preparation

Chapter 11. Québec – Camping and Inspiration

Chapter 12. Ontario – Mining, Rain and Monuments

Chapter 13. Manitoba – Family, and Some Cool Critters

Chapter 14. Saskatchewan – Grain Elevators and Farms

Chapter 15. Alberta – Stunning Beauty

Chapter 16. British Columbia – Revelstoke, Tim’s and Wine

Chapter 17. British Columbia – Best Ride Ever and Ferries

Chapter 18. British Columbia – The road back begins

Chapter 19. Alberta – Friends and History

Chapter 20. Saskatchewan – Moose Jaw

Chapter 21. Manitoba – Cousins and Polar Bears

Chapter 22. Ontario – Dark Clouds and Bright Spots

Chapter 23. Back to Montreal & What’s Next?

Acknowledgements

Introduction

Life is either a daring adventure or nothing at all.

(Helen Keller)

Have you ever wanted to run away from your life? A few years ago, I was so overwhelmed that I set myself on a course to do exactly that. I did things in stages, clueless to the path or the destination. Some inexplicable force guided me because I was not living my life on my terms. I had filled my life with good people and good things – a husband and children that loved me, a job in which I was competent, a home with no mortgage, and a sense of financial security. I did not have a bad life, yet happiness seemed to elude me.

I was going through the motions, sleepwalking from one task to the next, building walls to keep personal relationships at a superficial level. As a result, I had positioned myself in the middle of a self-created, swirling tsunami of to-do lists and should-haves that left me gasping for breath. It had to change - I had to change. What began as a motorcycle course in 2015 travelled through crises to a cross-Canada adventure in 2019.

Foreword

Oct. 31, 2020 – Forward for Wendy McGean’s ROUND TRIP novel

By: Robert Wertheimer

You have to admire someone who starts their first book with a quote from Helen Keller. Life is either a daring adventure or nothing at all

Pretty gutsy, and in the next line of text, asks their readers if they have ever wanted to run away from life? In my case, of course, only about fifteen times a day before lunch! However, if you are lucky enough to know author Wendy McGean, you soon come to realize there are those who simply want to do, and then there are those, like her; who – just do. If she wasn’t one of those type of people you might be reading something else, or watching Grey’s Anatomy but for sure, you wouldn’t be reading this.

I had the good fortune to meet the indefatigable Wendy McGean in the early spring of 2020. Spring of 2020? The very beginning of the Covid19 pandemic and across the board economic shut-down. What a crap-ass time to do anything let alone embark on re-invention and complete personal transition and change. However, that’s what Wendy and a small group of perfect strangers, decided to do as I became Wendy’s classmate when we both were accepted into the Canada Coach Academy’s 6-month long course to become professional coaches and mentors.

We are still working toward our international certification and I can’t speak about if we have become great coaches or just adequate ones, but I can assure you we are all pro experts at online zoom meetings which we shared for about six or seven hours a week. So, I think it is safe to say I have gotten to know and, in a small way, have become an authority on Wendy McGean.

However, honestly, authority is a poor choice of words for me when referring to Wendy. The most relevant word that comes to mind is appreciation as we collaborated week in and week out. It became clear to me very early in the process that Wendy is a very special person and the one I often looked to for guidance and clarity as we worked together digitally. No, I have changed my mind. The best word to describe her is leader, a close second to appreciation. I think these attributes of Wendy’s will come through clearly to all who experience reading her book.

For our study group the effort was completely different, transitional and something we all had never done before. It required a great deal of dedication and courage. Perhaps, a sample of the same kind needed for a novice female rider to drive a three-wheel Can-Am – all by themselves, from one end of Canada and back and write about it, having never done either task before. That remarkable true story is what Wendy has done and offered up to her new club of readers and podcast admirers.

I understand her story well. When I was young, I hitchhiked from Montreal to Alaska and from there to San Diego, California and from there back to Quebec all via the old out-stretched thumb. I can marvel at a middle-aged woman who declares to the world that motorcycles are cool and that they wanted cool in their life too. I know. I thought so too, and I went through the same grinding process of getting my motorcycle license in both Ontario and California well after my 50th birthday and I can assure you it’s no easy task. As a matter of fact, I found skydiving easier than getting my damn license in Los Angeles!

I recall once during the writing process of her book Wendy was struggling to find a proof-reader she could afford or a publisher who would return her e-mails and she wasn’t sure of what she was and what she had done was worth it or of any real value. The demons of doubt and second guessing were buzzing around her head like black flies. I took great exception and reminded her that – like it or not – if you sell to only one customer or get only one reader to go cover-to-cover then, guess what? You are a writer. You decided to take on the challenge and did it. No turning back. I’m happy to predict there is a real chanced that ROUND TRIP will entertain many, many more than just one customer.

Finally, as I read Wendy’s book, I had an interesting experience. As I read, it wasn’t with my normal inner reading voice but Wendy’s voice that I was hearing in my head. I heard Wendy’s voice discuss her times in the corporate going nowhere rat-race, the fears, the doubts, the frustrations and eventually triumphs she shared and described so well.

It was Wendy McGean’s voice that asked if I knew the basics and, If my life was a daring adventure… or nothing at all.

Chapter 1

The Backstory

I want to ride a motorcycle

I didn’t get the motorcycle bug early in life. In my late forties, I found my head pivoting toward every single one that I saw on the road whenever I was out. It represented some sort of escape and freedom. Until that time, my only experience was riding on the back of my brother’s bike as a teenager – maybe two rides, and that was it.

It quickly became something that I desperately wanted to do. But I was a 50-year-old married woman with two teenaged daughters and respectably employed with IBM. I did what I was supposed to do and did it very well, but something was missing. Motorcycles were cool, and I really wanted some cool in my life. Let me state this categorically – there was nothing in me that felt the least bit cool – I was a bit of a nerd and pretty much always followed the rules. My husband used to call me Wendy – by the book – McGean. I was serious most of the time and consumed by checking things off to-do lists like nobody’s business. I was a human doing instead of a human being.

In the summer of 2015, I decided to enroll in a course. I stalled for months before checking to see if my family supported the whole idea. My husband had lost a brother in a motorcycle accident over 40 years previously, and I didn’t want to stir up unpleasant memories. My youngest daughter told me not to die – advice that she also offered when I did a tandem skydive a few years earlier. In Quebec, the certification process is difficult, and that is a good thing. The first requirement is to pass the written test at the SAAQ to obtain a Class 6R learner’s permit. I flunked on my first attempt. I was shocked – I had not failed anything since a grade five history test. Not studying for an evaluation at eleven years old was my great rebellion. Sitting there in front of the computer that I used for the exam, I felt deflated. My preparation had been inadequate. I spoke to a clerk as I paid for the disastrous attempt, and she told me that due to recent changes in the examination process, there was, at that time, a 64% failure rate in the knowledge test. It was humbling.

To make matters worse, I could not start the practical course until I passed the written assessment. Regulations stipulated a waiting period of 28 days before making a second attempt to write that exam. It was getting late in the season, and my options to get started for that year were disappearing. The school that I had hoped to attend was not offering any courses that late in the year. So, I found another training institution, studied harder, passed the written test on the second try, and enrolled.

I did the first few theory sessions, bought some riding gloves, a helmet, and went to the first closed-circuit session full of enthusiasm. It was gruelling. I stuck out like a sore thumb – at least twenty years older than everyone else and resembled an alien on the machine. The maximum speed limit is 25 km/hr in closed circuit training, and those slower speeds can be challenging. A rider has to feel as one with the motorcycle and be comfortably balanced during various manoeuvres in tight spaces. In particular, one exercise had us driving, what was much too fast for me, straight towards the instructor, and he would indicate which direction we should turn with hand signals. I couldn’t play that game of chicken as I didn’t trust that I had sufficient time to swerve away from him and keep the bike upright. I was never able to wait for the gesture and always turned prematurely. That drill would be replicated in the SAAQ test - if I couldn’t perform it in class, how on earth would I be able to pass an official certification?

It may be true that what other people think of us is none of our business, but I’m pretty sure that my instructor was not impressed with my lack of skills, and that bothered me. I had even managed to cut off other students once or twice. He gave me a bye on the first infraction, but he was, understandably, a little pissed off the second time. Then there was the time that I dropped the bike during a relatively simple exercise. Safety was paramount in my mind and, I have to admit that it was unnerving to feel so useless. I had thought that I was in pretty good condition physically, but each of the 4-hour blocks on the Closed Track left me completely exhausted and mentally drained.

Do I want to ride a motorcycle?

I wondered if I should simply bail on this crazy idea and forget all about it. Bottom line - I did not feel competent. Only one date remained for the last SAAQ closed-circuit test of the year that would permit me to ride on the road. Technically, I could attempt that assessment but knew that it would be a waste of time and money without additional training. Waiting seemed prudent. Once again, I was adhering to my strict rule of deeming something unworthy of my time if I couldn’t accomplish it easily and in a relatively short period. I was afraid to challenge myself and fail.

To add insult to injury, I didn’t actually know anyone who rode a motorcycle, never mind someone who would be willing to dedicate large blocks of time to help a newbie get certified. At that time in Québec, a novice rider had to be accompanied by another motorcyclist for a minimum of 11 months – travelling alone to practice was not permitted. The school advised students who did not finish that they would be in touch during the spring to resume training. My thought was to take the winter and consider my options. As it turned out, the school waited well into the following season before dialing my number. It looked like they were in no hurry to invite me back, and, as a result, my grand plan was stalling.

During this time, I realized that it was necessary to dig a little deeper to decide how important it was to ride. There were many conversations in my head where I played both the angel and the devil. Aside from safety risks, the downside consisted of how much it costs to ride; money for a bike, clothing, protective gear, insurance, and registration. Motorcycle riding is a luxury. On the plus side, this whole exercise was about overcoming a challenge and doing something only because it appealed to me. It is impossible to put a price on that. Ultimately, my gut told me to persevere and learn how to ride – how would I feel in twenty years if I gave up on something that I wanted? Regret didn’t seem like an optimal outcome.

Support Systems and Changing Gears

As I registered for the course in 2015, my dad received a cancer diagnosis for the second time. So, after a humbling start on a motorcycle, I turned my attention back to my family and work. This focus included frequent trips to Nova Scotia to help out where I could and just spend time with my parents. My husband and young adult daughters were amazing – they were entirely on board with my frequent travelling. Also, I was lucky enough to have an incredible team at work who supported me and sanctioned me working remotely whenever required.

I made it work, but it was tough trying to fix everything and be there for everyone else. The only way to pull it off was to keep making lists and become a little detached from most people in my life. I kept running from task to task and place to place. Building walls around my emotions became a specialty. The pace continued through the spring of 2016, although the trips to Nova Scotia tapered off a little. Financially, I couldn’t afford to keep flying every month at about $700 a pop.

During this hectic period, one of my lifelines was a colleague who became a friend and recognized that I was in trouble a couple of years earlier. In retrospect, I was not as good at hiding things as I thought. A friendship developed that helped me cope with my life. I looked forward to each conversation, and there were many chats over several years. During those talks, I realized that I no longer recognized myself – the only moments of authenticity seemed to occur during what essentially became those coaching discussions. I was free just to be myself in that space – not some façade that I had constructed and was trying to honour. Unfortunately, those breaks were not enough, but I was not ready to admit that to myself. Life was exhausting.

Incredibly enough, during this period, I decided to switch gears and enroll in a course for a Spyder as a replacement for the path to the full motorcycle license. BRP (Bombardier Recreational Products) started manufacturing a three-wheeled motorcycle called the Can-Am Spyder in 2007. Unlike a Harley-Davidson trike, the Spyder has two wheels in the front and one in the rear. With the added stability from the third wheel, riding is possible for those of us, like me, who were overwhelmed on two wheels. Despite my physical exhaustion, a distraction was in order. After work on the evening of Friday, July 22, 2016 (my 21st wedding anniversary), I participated in a 3-hour lecture, en français, on the realities of riding a three-wheeler. Part two of the course was a four-hour practical session on a Spyder the next morning. There were four ladies in the class, and I volunteered to ride the model with the clutch. As soon as I hopped on the bike, all of the tension and anxiety drained from my body.

The examiner had us manoeuvre around a closed-circuit course, and this time, I owned it! After 25 years in Québec, I was still shy to speak in French but conducted myself well. He recognized that I had ridden before; my form was perfect, and I handled the machine easily. Those 16 hours of misery on a two-wheeler had, it turns out, been beneficial. When we hit the road, he asked me to stay back as the last rider to keep an eye on the group. I was thrilled and absolutely in my element. Riding a Spyder was precisely what I had anticipated. Despite several stalls, it was love at first shift.

By noon on July 23, 2016, I had qualified for my license.

Burning Out

Getting my license was, unfortunately, not enough to cure what ailed me. I felt like I was losing my grip on any form of control in my life. Within days, I was wearing down – I had a cold of some sort and a cough that would not go away. My asthma inhalers did not seem to be working. I made a couple of trips to the emergency room in preparation for a week’s vacation in Ingonish – I had to be healthy to visit my parents. Because of changes at work and an ending contract, I convinced myself that I could only take one week off, which was not enough. It was also bullshit – I was hiding from my life. A prescription for Prednisone, many inhalations from the Teva-Salbutamol, and I was feeling a little better.

As usual, we drove the 1500 kms to Ingonish. Luckily, my husband did the actual driving. The week off helped, but I was not sleeping well and was generally unhappy by this time. I was incredibly worried about my dad and couldn’t help but focus on how little time he might have left. I arrived back at work in early August. On the 11th, I went to see my doctor, who set up a follow-up appointment to check my lungs after those emergency room visits. I cracked. After ranting in her office for an hour – she sent me home with a diagnosis that I was burning out. I was a mess – completely exhausted.

I was sad, embarrassed, and depressed. I felt so lost and convinced that I would never feel joy again. Part of the protocol to recover from burnout was to spend some time working through issues with a psychologist. I started to talk about what was in my head and my heart like I never had before. It was time to get to work. I made a list of everything causing unhappiness in my life, and it seemed to be everything. I was good at my job but no longer enjoyed it. I was married to a great man, but I no longer felt that I belonged with him. My girls were getting older, and I rarely saw them. I was finally able to articulate everything that I was hiding inside for longer than I could remember. I sat at home for the next two months and started to work through my issues. During that time, I had to cancel a two-week vacation to France that I had meticulously planned for my husband and me. The insurance company would not give their blessing. So, add some major rage to everything else that was going on.

At that point, the healing finally began. Looking back, I was so fragile. I couldn’t identify what I wanted or needed. All I knew for sure was that I could not keep living the way that I was. I was empty and detached. I so desperately wanted to be seen but was not brave enough to show myself. I had been setting goals and accomplishing many things but never looked within to figure out what was truly important to me. I was lucky – my life had been pretty good – although I didn’t always get out of my own way to recognize that. Work may have been the trigger for my burnout, but it was not the cause. My crisis was instigated by how I was moving through the world – trying to be what everyone needed and not even recognizing that I should be the principal character in my own story.

Motorcycle = Therapy

I’m paraphrasing something attributed to Dan Aykroyd with the section title. At the end of 2016, work was presenting unique challenges again, but I was more resilient. The customer contract that was my main focus was ending. As a result, my job was in question for a couple of months, and that was a little disconcerting – I was skillful at throwing myself into work to keep myself busy. What would I do without a job? I was just returning from burnout, so not enthusiastic about the idea of having to initiate a job search. On the positive side, when my job disappeared, I would get some sort of severance package in all likelihood. That was actually when the idea of a coast-to-coast solo ride first came to mind. Convinced that I would be unemployed by summer, I decided not to save vacation for the warmer months and took a week to visit my parents with my youngest daughter. It was a great week and coincided with my father’s 84th birthday.

Despite concerns over my working status, I bought my Spyder on April 13, 2017. It was a forgotten 2015 floor model, and I was getting it at a considerable discount. Still, it was a significant purchase at $15,500, and I felt guilty spending so much money on something that was just for me. This purchase was likely the first decision in decades that was all mine, and it provided me with an excellent happy place. The bike was with me at every possible opportunity during those first few weeks – regardless of cold or wet. Mostly it was just to go to work, but even that was awesome. Around that time, an attempt to have a permanent position created for another client did not materialize. I was expecting a call at any moment to find out that I was losing my job.

Instead, a new opportunity presented itself in May of 2017, and I moved to another team. The timing was perfect, and it was a job similar to one that I had done earlier in my career, so delivery was not stressful. And I met some great people. It was a golden opportunity to continue working and rebuild my strength. So, I took the time to ride when I could and settled into a new routine of working in downtown Montreal every day. Unfortunately, that meant that I wouldn’t be riding the Spyder to the office – which cut into my happy time.

The commute to downtown Montreal was brutal and consumed 90 minutes (one-way) using a combination of car, train, and foot. About 45 minutes of that was on the train, during which time I would listen to podcasts or work. I always had my laptop with me and boarded early enough to have a seat. I still cannot understand how people can spend 3 hours plus on a commute for years. People around me seemed to be making the most of the train ride by reading, working on laptops, or chatting with their travel companions. I mostly wanted to be somewhere else. Perhaps it was the fact that I was still basically unhappy with myself. Keeping myself occupied was my go-to, to guard against thinking. I could not stand to be idle.

In retrospect, it was for the better, on so many levels, that circumstances did not play out to allow me to ride across Canada at that time. I had minimal riding experience and was still working through the reasons I burned out the previous year. It would have been a much more significant challenge and, as exhausted as I was, I would have been grossly underprepared.