I’ve written about this subject before, because for many of us the reasoning doesn’t really capture the experience. Riding long distances across country allowed me to ask myself some important questions. Not the least of which was why do I ride? I couldn’t give myself the transcendent answers, I’ve heard them all and tried to understand them, to no avail. Why exactly did I start riding late in life, when my physical abilities were likely not as good as when I was young?
To me, it seems that I was reaching a point in my life where I had experienced all the challenges I could rationally put in front of me, whether it related to risk, achievement or challenge and survival. I’d tried everything from climbing, diving, swift water rescue, mountain rescue, dive rescue, saturation diving, spelunking, even cave diving.
In that process I had been excited, challenged, terrified, even mystified by what I had experienced. But what led me back to motorcycling was something different. I had no idea what that was at the time. But what I found I was seeking was solace. Solace from some of my life’s horrific experiences caused by grief, death, loss, job pressures, marital failure and financial pressures created by all of that process.
Getting on a motorcycle and then getting on the road was a mechanism to get in touch with who I was. I needed to depend on me, just me. I needed to know who I was, now that my career was over. I didn’t realize that through all the trials and tribulations of my life, that in the pursuit and process I had lost touch of myself. I really didn’t know what I wanted, what I was going to do with myself as I headed hell-bent towards the last quarter of my life?
I was an avid writer and photographer, and I thought that would be enough, but even then the inspiration to write and photograph wasn’t enough to keep me involved in the larger world.
The answer came to me one day when I walked into a motorcycle dealership on a whim, and saw a Honda VFR 800, cherry red, sleek, beautiful and fast. I went home and thought I’d simply photograph motorcycles, maybe motorcycle racing. Surely that would provide enough stimulation to keep my interest. I watched GP racing and then TT racing. But it wasn’t until I returned to that shop a week later and again sat on that VFR that I realized this is what I want to do, in and with my remaining years.
I had absolutely no reservations in relation to risk. I’d lived through nearly 20 life threatening events in my life and the universe hadn’t had my number to date, or so I told myself. I bought that bike, and within a month I was on an 8,000 mile trip that taught me to appreciate that I wouldn’t know everything I wanted or needed to know in short order. I practiced low speed turns, emergency braking, adjusting to curves by trail braking and carefully carving apexes. Within the first year I felt that this is where I belonged. I was becoming comfortable.
And then my neighbour backed over my bike with his 1 ton ‘effing’ truck!
I was apoplectic. I wanted to strangle him and dump his lifeless corpse into a swamp. But sanity prevailed, thankfully, and I simply punched the crap out of a speed bag in the garage until my knuckles bled. I returned, looking like a man who had just cut off his own leg with a pocket knife, and called my insurance company.
Within a week, I had another bike. Not as beautiful as my VFR, admittedly, but one capable of taking me anywhere a road would go in North America. I came to slowly appreciate the sheer simplicity of the ride, of hours winding through mountain passes, the rain and wind trying to pull me off the road. I became comfortable with discomfort and learned the rhythm of the ride. I took solace in the beauty of the mountains, the ocean, the lakes and the forests. I found I could relax, just watching a stream or making a cup of coffee over a fire and sleeping under the stars.
I’m 70 now and suffered a really ugly leg fracture last year, but fortunately I’m back riding, or will be in short order. I have two major trips planned for this summer, each over 8,000 miles in length. I’m more relaxed and at peace with myself than I’ve ever been, and the future, while shorter, looks alive and well.
I hope each of you, in your way and in your own time, finds whatever the key is to accepting life as it is and in the enjoyment of one down and six up. Be well, be safe, be kind. Live the moment, and ride.
Ciao…
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