Here it is, March in southwestern Ohio, the time of the year I would be tightening bolts, changing oil, and generally caressing the girl in the garage. But, today there is tons of snow between my yearning heart, and the wanting bike. Snow so inconveniently dropped overnight by a northbound blizzard freight train. Teasing me in ways my wife (Deb) would never be so sadistically inclined to. Teasing me in a way to make my heart ache. We've been riding for ten years now, and know that the wintertime blues set in earlier with each passing season. And this late winter blast seems to be the cruelest blow yet. I had visions of early March rides. The days of temperatures that push 60 degrees. Leathered up and smiling. Even if the air is cool because the  area isn't ready to totally free itself from its winter shroud, March rides rock because we wait all winter for them. We know we'll shiver on the ride, only to unzip and peel when we stop. But, with 10" of snow already since yesterday and no let up seen for most of today, this year's breakout long haul may have to wait until April.