Why We Ride
I started writing this a few months ago and never posted it up for whatever reason at the time. I may offend some but treat it as an Op Ed piece and move on. I don’t worry too much about other peoples opinions as far as I’m concerned that’s a good chunk of why the world is as screwed up as it is. If there were more immediate and direct reactions to our actions perhaps we’d learn to be a bit more in tune with the situation. I’m constantly amazed at the number of weapon and gun carry threads on various riding forums (except and maybe this is ironic on ADV where riders really are off of the beaten path). I’ve never been in a situation where a friendly smile and a wave haven’t been enough to get me out of there, usually in better shape than the situation started out on. People are for the most part good and a good chunk of the rest of them are just curious about the nut on the bike, where they’re coming from and where they’re going too. What’s five minutes out of your day to fill them in?
Why We Ride
Really? No idea, who can really speak for the masses? I just know about me.
I mean I can speculate about you but it would sound judgemental and elitist. Yeah, I’ve been accused of that a few times. So best we don’t talk about why you ride. I believe the only person to you need to prove anything to is yourself and even then, sometimes that’s not a good thing either. Bikes have a way of levelling you out hard if you’re playing the fool.
See (and this is just me here) I really don’t try to encourage people to ride. It’s effing dangerous out there (in case you hadn’t noticed). I mean it was bad when I started riding but they didn’t have cell phones, texting and DVD players and GPS units to take your mind off the road. Drivers had to make do with applying their make up, drinking beer and hot coffee.
So why anybody would take up riding later in life is frankly beyond me.
Oh I’m not saying you don’t have your reasons, I’m just saying I don’t get it. I mean I was mentally broken at a young age by that sneaky imp of riding, the Honda 80 Dirt bike.
Undersprung, I mean seriously crap suspension, underpowered and viciously snakey when it wasn’t appropriate to be but I terrorized the field next door and the gravel pit down the road (always being careful to walk the bike there not ride it, honest officer).
I got my bike license when I was 17 and my first bike was a 1980 Yamaha DT175.
While a good number of my buddies were hauling ass on their Kz 400s I was hitting the local logging roads up Sumas Mountain on my DT. This is where I learned two strokes are finicky in how they put the power from the rear wheel down to the ground. First gear could be just a bit underpowered and second gear was pure overkill and it can be tough to drift on a logging road, cause they can change from gravel to rock to dirt to mud in about as much distance. So the bike would hook up and propel me into the bush and scrub (and trees) at the side of the track. Lucky for me the DT never had much in the way of bodywork. I will admit, sometimes I do miss the satisfaction of throwing down on a kick start but like the bruises on my ankle, the nostalgia fades.
I rode the hell out of that bike, it was my only mode of transportation for three years, rain, shine or sleet, mostly rain, it’s not called the, “Wet coast,” for nothing. I told my wife before we got serious, “I come with two wheels, if that’s going to be a problem, tell me now.” I think now maybe she thought I was exaggerating but she should have figured I was pretty broken as I kicked my KH400 to life under her roommate’s bedroom window those nights I stayed over. Though once we were married, there was a brief period of not having a bike while we had our kids. We needed that money for raising our family and work really did cut down on the riding time, well any free time but it wasn’t like it wasn’t in the back of my mind. The sound of a motorcycle exhaust does strange things to the mind of the afflicted.
And then the terrible thing happened and while we struggled to rebuild that which we had lost and cope with a loss we could never, would never really recover from I knew I needed to get back on a bike or lose my mind. Because there’s one thing I do know. When you’re on a bike, it’s your world, it’s your focus. Never mind the stuff that’s happening on the edge of it, you deal with what’s going on totally in the moment. It became my lifeline back to the rest of the world.
Well most of the world, I still don’t get a bunch of it.
Between my shrink and the bike (a 1990 XT600 a good friend found for me) we pieced a decent simulacrum of who I used to be or at least laid the foundation for who I wanted to be. The XT served me well for twelve years and I still miss it. There were a couple of others prior to the current 04 DL-650 but they were ungrateful bitches and deserve little mention.
I must admit, I’ve lavished a lot of attention on it and we’ve done a lot of miles together and we’re itching to do many more. Some days I just don’t want to stop riding cause you’re thinking, “It just can’t get any better, “ (unless you’re riding through Nebraska where the thought is, “I’ve just got to keep going, I’m still in Nebraska.”) but you do because, well it’s dark out and critters like to surprise you. So you hit the campground, or you hit the motel and the minute you stop, the road catches up with you and you think, “Why am I doing this? Why do I ride? Why do I do this to myself?”
For me, my bike is my own personal spaceship. It takes me to places I’ve never been. It tests me, sometimes it even fights me. It lets me be an idiot, it lets me push myself out past the point of all reason and it never judges, except that one time on a diminishing radius turn in West Virginia but to be fair, I deserved to be judged in that case. It’s a fine partner in crime and every time I get on it be the ride long or short, I can feel my heart beating and know that’s a good thing because it really is all about the journey, we all get to the destination someday.
This coming year, the plan is to ride the Translab as far as it’ll take me but there are some caveats as already there may well be personal stuff that will need taking care of which might push the trip another year. I hope not but fortune favours the prepared. What I really hope is that my buddy Kelly will be able to make the journey with me but if he can’t make it in body, I know he’ll make it in spirit.
I wish you all a prosperous new year and may your troubles be few.
