You ever come up with some wild idea—maybe there’re adult beverages involved—and say it out loud as though it were a good one?
Then, next thing you know, tickets are booked, promises made, and a crew of friends are calling from California asking what the hell you’d gotten them into, and in the middle of the gnarliest cold snap in recent memory at that? How the heck are they supposed to surf if the ocean itself is frozen solid? And is it even safe to ride bikes in sub-zero temps?
That’s pretty much how it went down this past January. I had decided it’d be super fun to get some friends together to ride fat bikes up and down New England’s coast in the middle of the winter. We’d chase swells most folks just watch through grimy windows in nautical dive bars while feeding on a regionally popular gastrointestinal trilogy of fried seafood, booze, and seasonal depression disorder.