Everyone has their ‘how I got into motorcycle riding’ story. My earliest memories of intrigue towards motorcycles are from a different source. I was 4-5 years old when I saw Star Wars: Return of The Jedi in the movie theater with my dad. I was fascinated. I was a Star Wars obsessed kid in the 80’s (to be honest some of it still carries to this day) and my favorite toy was the swoop bike that Luke and Leia were flying around on the forest moon of Endor. Swoop bikes are fictitious small vehicles that use repulsorlift engines to move (nerd alert here). It is like a motorcycle that has no wheels and longer. The toy had a button on the tail end that mimicked an explosion. I created elaborate raceways in my bedroom and my back yard with a variety of different heroes and villains racing. I wanted to race around on a swoop bike through the forest. I wanted that freedom to fly by trees and zoom around and chase bad guys. I smile thinking of those memories.
However, a mere five years later from those swoop racing days, I sat on the back of my uncle’s motorcycle. It was some sort of cruiser, but I don’t remember the exact make and model. He took off and . . . I HATED IT. I remember having this feeling that I was going to fly off. There was no freedom, just the intense fear that I was going to die- die a lot.
Time Jump: I’m thirty years-old. I donated my 1995 Toyota 4Runner with over 250,000 miles that struggled to go uphill to a charity. I lived 2.6 miles away from work. I have a bicycle and my feet as my main sources of transportation. The words ‘motorcycle’ and ‘me’ have not collided in a very long time. Two things occurred synchronistically; my brother purchased a Kymco People’s 150cc scooter and I started reading the travel stories of Neil Peart (pronounced peert).
I rode on my brother’s scooter and I was smitten. So smitten, that a short time later, I purchased my own wineberry (which I still think is a great color) Kymco Peoples 150. Zipping around on that little 150cc was invigorating. I was opening up to the world of motorized two wheels. Shortly after purchasing the scooter, I was given a promotion at work, but it was in another town over 35 miles away. For about 3 months, I rode the scooter on a major highway full throttle, leaned over, willing it to hit 60 mph (if the wind was blowing just right, it did).
As mentioned, around this time, I had picked up the traveling writing of Mr. Peart. He was riding a BMW GS. He was taking back roads, side roads, and going through fields. He was seeing the world through a different lens. Suddenly, the perception of riding altered. I saw it as an escape to out of the way places. Motorcycling, traveling, and camping seemed like a refuge.
The 150cc was not a sustainable way to travel. I needed to upgrade. I needed a motorcycle for . . .reasons. I took a motorcycling class through Harley-Davidson (which I thoroughly enjoyed and met one of closest friends to this day- Eric). During that class, I became hooked. Within weeks, I had found and purchased a used 2004/5 BMW R1200 GS – Red. I loved that machine. I went camping. I traveled north, south, east, and west. I found weird, eclectic museums. I found weird, eclectic people. The story of the demise of that machine is for another day, probably on a dreary, cold day.
Riding heals. I think this is the most pertinent reason why I ride. There have been times in my life that I experienced loss, but sitting on my motorcycle, moving forward is meditative and healing. If I’m feeling stressed or overwhelmed- I ride. It is a balm. Sometimes riding through the woods on dirt roads, I am transported to the feelings I had as a kid playing with my swoop bike, with a large grin, a few ‘whoops,’ and the occasional crash. We ride because of joy.
