LESSONS FROM MY Daughters

THANKS TO MY ALL-GROWN-UP GIRLS, I’VE LEARNED A WHOLE NEW WAY TO ROLL

- Peter Carter

One sunny Saturday afternoon in 2014, I was southbound on Highway 427 in Toronto aboard my purple 1993 Harley-Davidson Sportster. This stretch of road, some 12 miles long, is one of the most heavily trafficked in North America. At certain points, there are 14 lanes of traffic, much of it moving at 70-plus mph. I was in one of the center lanes-keeping a close eye on an 18-wheeler about 100 yards ahead.

I wasn't worried for myself. I'd been biking for decades. My eyes were riveted on my 23-year-old daughter, a novice rider who was balanced on her recently purchased BMW F 650 GS. She was right beside that semi, in its dark shadow, looking as vulnerable as a snowflake.

Thoughts swirled. One wrong move, and our world ends. I am powerless to help her. I let this happen. Am I the worst father ever?

My daughter Ewa Carter, a student at the time, made it home safely and hasn't stopped riding since. She has put thousands of miles on that BMW, riding from our Toronto home east to Halifax, south to Tennessee and west to Vancouver in all types of weather and road conditions. The best part is that for exactly 5,100 of those miles, I've been riding with her.

I've had some stunning adventures with Ewa's identical twin sister, Ria Carter, too. In fact, both my girls have taken me places I never imagined I'd go. 

One afternoon in August 2016, Ria, at the time a funeral director and now a psychotherapy student, arrived at our house and told my wife, Helena Szybalski, and me that she was taking me to Burning Man, a festival in the Black Rock Desert in Nevada. Our daughters had attended a few years earlier, frolicking in the heat with 70,000 hippies. And they'd decided, without consulting me, that this was my year to go. Not only had Ria obtained a pair of hard-to-get tickets, she'd also paid our plane fare. If I didn't go, she'd be out $2,000.