KA-BLAM

KA-BLAM – Not only could I feel the Enfield Bullet wallop that last jutting rock ledge, but I could also see that Batman punchline in my head. Rob (owner of the bikes we were on) looked at me and said, “Jeez, Don.” I wasn’t sure if it was Jeez, Don, you’re busting up my bike or Jeez, Don, I’ve never seen anyone push a Bullet to that level. Either way, I had been eating mud and sand from the back of the pack after making a quick stop and had just gotten tired of my co-riders’ slow go up this mountainside. I decided that maybe it would be quicker to use the traction and hard surface of the massive boulders and ledges and go back to my New England farm boy riding style. I was darn right, too. Picking up enough speed off every hard surface, I just jumped the bike from rock to ledge and back until I made short work of that climb. That last landing, though, left the kickstand in need of a zip tie, as the spring took its own course and jettisoned out into the jungle.

Riding out of Kathmandu with Rob from Himalayan Roadrunners (ridehigh.com) around Nepal was a blast. But I’ve had lots of great rides over the years—too many to pen here. I think the one thing that has made most of these rides really memorable, though, is the people you meet along the way. Coming out of Geneva, Switzerland, into France in the pouring rain one really cold September back in the ’90s, I pulled into a small village with one really big fancy hotel that would be the only place I could hide from the elements. I managed to slaughter the French language but still get a room. After getting settled, the manager knocked on the door and communicated an issue with my bike. It was parked on the sidewalk out front, and he led me to it. He got me to understand that it wasn’t a good place to be. With that, he took me to the hotel’s wine cellar and let me get the bike into a nice, cozy slot between the massive racks and barrels filled with the aging elixir. He even went so far as to offer me one for the evening stay.

Weather, as we pretty well know, can factor into our riding. I live in Florida now, but I can remember years of dealing with Maine’s long, cold, cabin fever-inducing winters. Whenever we’d get a slight break in the cold and the roads were pretty clear, out would come the bikes. Even just a short ride was a relief from the torture we’d endure from reading those California-based motorcycle rags all winter. With their sunny, warm skies, smooth roads, and shiny new bikes, it could really create some resentment.

By the time I was living in Europe, although we had four seasons, the climate was just too good and made year-round riding possible. Even while living in England, I found that with the proper gear, you could get through most of the winter without issue. Riding to the NEC Center in Birmingham with my buddy Roger was one of the year’s highlight rides. Even in the cold overcast of November, we’d ride out to see all the new bikes and gear popping up for the coming year at the annual show. Thousands of riders would be out to gawk and share stories. I could always manage to dicker a good deal on the new gear coming out. I don’t know—maybe I was the sucker, though, because it was instant advertisement for them to have their wares out early.

Germany, as everyone knows, is also a rider’s paradise. I spent fifteen years there—eleven of them living at the tail end of what is considered the most dangerous public road in the country. I rode that twelve-mile stretch every single day and saw every manner of accident. Every couple of years, they’d try to make an improvement to the road but only managed to make it more dangerous by simply making it easier to go fast on. Nonetheless, I had amazing rides while living there.

I spent a few years writing for a classic car magazine (now defunct, thanks to the internet) and had the opportunity to interview Fabien Sabatès (R.I.P). He was probably the most renowned historian and publisher of automotive history and technology in the French language. One thing that stuck with me from that interview was a lesson he’d learned through all his years of publication. He said that cars will come and cars will go. There is only so much you can write about a certain automobile. What you have to examine is the driver. People have many stories, backgrounds, and experiences. It is a forever deep pool of interesting material. In that, he was right. In the motorcycle world, we have so much we can investigate beyond the bike itself. I’ve shared a little here. I would definitely like to hear about my followers’ favorite rides, favorite bike mods, and situations you may have gotten into—and hopefully out of—on your bikes. Hope this one didn’t bore you.

—Don