Category: Motorcycle

Blog posts about motorcycles. – A Motorcycle Blog For Weirdos – A Motorcycle Blog For Weirdos

Writing my blog has been an on-going learning experience. Like me, what I write about has evolved over time. People who read it back in the stone age might not like what it has become but that’s alright. In a roundabout way, yes, it is about motorcycles. Sort of. More than just posts about riding from A to B, specs, farkles and so on – this is a chronicle of my brain’s inner monologue. As it turns out, my uncluttered thoughts are best tapped in to when I am riding my motorcycle.

Whenever I write about my flaws, my strangeness, the things that hurt or embarrass me – invariably there is someone who reads it, reaches out and says, “me too.” Now, of course I realize that my feelings about things aren’t unique. But even so – I am often surprised by this me too-ness. Are we all riding around carrying bags full of insecurities, anxieties and hurts? Do we all just want someone to get us?

It’s has been a difficult lesson to learn that it is my fragile humanity that connects me to other people. A false projection of perfection might get lookers through the door but I’m not interested in just numbers or stats. I’m interested in learning to be a better human from the people who stop by and have their own stories to share.

This post is part of a month-long writing prompt challenge: Brave, Bold, Blogger Challenge (BBBC) 2017 hosted by Kathy at

Prompt: A hard lesson you’ve learned

Coming to Terms With Long Highway Rides

Coming to Terms With Long Highway Rides

When the calendar page rolls from December in to January, there is a sparkle of wonder about what the year will bring. With motorcycling being such an important part of my life, where I will go and what I will see is in the forefront of my imaginings.

Beyond daydreaming about where I’ll find myself, my mind also floats back to all the places I’ve been. Sometimes it isn’t until the onset of one of these nostalgia trips that I realize how much I’ve seen. While you’re in the midst of doing things – that’s just your life. That moment is your existence and often doesn’t feel out of the ordinary. I suppose that can make it easy to overlook the magnitude of some things and maybe keeps you from being overwhelmed.

Though I sometimes gobble up the miles in order to stand in front of something, I never see the miles themselves as a trophy. Sometimes I’ll get a bug in my ear about visiting something but hundreds of miles stand between us. Even though it means I’ll be going riding, pounding out the miles on the slab can be a drag.

Over the years I’ve found space inside of myself to mostly come to terms with long highway stretches. But there are moments when I teeter on the edge of a complete f’n meltdown because I just don’t feel like doing it. It is in those moments that I have to dig deep to find the power to continue. Those are the moments when I have to remember why I’m doing what I’m doing. There is something waiting for me on the other side, something I have to suffer to get to… something that will be worth the squirming discomfort.

Thinking ahead to the year that is unfolding, my mileage goal is the same as the last 20 or so: to ride some, to be safe and have a good time.

This post is part of a month-long writing prompt challenge: Brave, Bold, Blogger Challenge (BBBC) 2017 hosted by Kathy at

Prompt: Annual Mileage Goal

Motorcycle Travel Packing – Some Odds and Ends

Motorcycle Travel Packing – Some Odds and Ends

When I’m roadtripping on the bike, I do my best to pack lightly with regard to clothing. I try to pack things that are easily re-wearable, wrinkle resistant and fast drying. Fast drying is a huge help. That means I can wash them when I stop for the night and they’re dry by morning. And that means less stuff to pack.

My clothing basics usually include:

  • Wicking base layer – top & bottom
  • 3 pairs of underwear – 2 bras
  • packet of ankle socks
  • Off-bike jacket or cardigan – depending on the weather
  • Sometimes a travel dress
  • 1 pair of off-bike jeans or pants
  • 1 pair of shoes
  • A couple T-shirts for on/off the bike

The key for me seems to be versatility. Picking clothes that I can comfortably use on the bike and still not look like a total hobo if I go to a restaurant. Also as you can see, I like black and grey. Sometimes I’ll also pack a scarf. They can smarten up a plain t-shirt or zip-up jacket when off the bike. Oh, and earrings. I feel like that’s something that helps me not feel so boyish.

Gallon Ziploc bags are my best friend. They keep stuff tidy and make for easy packing. Keeping like items together keeps me from having to rifle through everything to find something.

Some hotels have washing machines for guests, which is nice. That helps when your re-wearables have been re-worn many times. When you know you should be stinky but you cant smell yourself anymore? That’s when you’ve achieved a high-level of funk. Well done.

In my everyday life, I hate folding clothes out of the dryer and putting them away. My motorcycle packing is kind of the antidote to that. Roll it up and stick it in a bag. If you don’t have a lot, you don’t have to take care of a lot.

On the topic of motorcycle wash and wear – my friend Bill sent me this lastnight. Timely!

This post is part of a month-long writing prompt challenge: Brave, Bold, Blogger Challenge (BBBC) 2017 hosted by Kathy at

Prompt:Your least favorite household chore

Finding Forgiveness in the California Desert

Finding Forgiveness in the California Desert

It was cold when I left the town of Brawley. The sun was just starting to make its way up the eastern sky. The dusky morning blanketed the horizon in a gray-blue haze. The world was not awake yet.

With the sun rising at my back, I hummed west with farms keeping me company for a little while. They didn’t stick around long. Everything quickly turned to sand.

I was heading towards Ocotillo. That’s where I would head north and into Anza-Borrego State Park.

On this, the second morning of my California trip, I still had not yet decompressed and shed the go-go-go agitation that peppers everything I do. There was also the matter of lingering guilt about being selfish and traveling on my own. That all rounded out nicely with worrying about all of the other odds and ends that arise when traveling by motorcycle. Those negative feelings were seasoned to taste and put on a low heat to simmer.

I don’t take my personal freedom lightly. I have keen understanding of how lucky I am to pretty much do what I want, when I want to, without any grief from my family. But I still have a cooling down period that I go through in which I have to release myself from guilt. There are always episodes of inner turmoil that I go through when traveling on my own.

As I rode along, I worked through feelings of awe from the desolate landscape and the nagging of my inner tumult. Just a few miles in to the park everything I’d been feeling came to a head. With the way that the morning light hugged the land, the gorgeous colors of the terrain, the scale of the mountains and dipping valleys – my simmering pot boiled over. I stood on the side of the road taking everything in and I cried.

But it wasn’t a sad cry. It was something else. A release. Being in that beautiful desert space told me that right then, right at that very moment – I could forgive myself. I was exactly where I needed to be and it was okay.

This post is part of a month-long writing prompt challenge: Brave, Bold, Blogger Challenge (BBBC) 2017 hosted by Kathy at

Prompt:A special memory from 2016

We Are All Just Little Seeds

We Are All Just Little Seeds

With the sunset closing in on Salvation Mountain, I continued south along the Salton Sea to the closest town with a chain hotel in it. Google Maps said that was the Best Western in Brawley, California.

By this time of the day, I was hungry, dirty and windburned. I felt self-conscious as my boots squeaked and my pants swished across the hotel lobby to the front desk. There, I was greeted by the happiest person in the world.

As Bubblicious checked me in, she made small talk – asking what it’s like to ride a motorcycle. She was impressed that I was traveling on my own. Maybe it’s a product of where I’m from but I assume that these sorts of complimentary exchanges with service industry people are just tools of the trade. It wasn’t until she chased me down the hallway with the number for a pizza delivery that I started to believe that maybe she was serious. She reiterated her admiration, this time a little more earnestly. And for that moment, I didn’t feel quite so dirtbag-y. I felt… good. Maybe one day that girl will learn to ride.

Lessons, inspiration, living by example – sometimes we are just surrogates of all that and it isn’t up to us. Unseen eyes watch us move through life, silently taking what they need. Maybe you’re just riding along, enjoying the sunshine radiating across your back and a little girl in a passing car sees your ponytail. From that moment on, an ember of possibility burns inside of her.

We are all just seeds.

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