“They said don’t go to the protests. It’s too dangerous. I asked them why because I live in a free country. They told me to think about my children. Then one day they started to shoot people from the protests. They also locked up others and tortured them. My friend Roman was imprisoned and tortured for 54 days.”
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Roaring majestically along in the sprung saddle of the 1967 Moto Guzzi V7, as the afternoon sun burns the landscape a rich, deep golden hue, the shadow riders chasing us along the twisting country road grow longer. Night is coming down, and my inner dialogue turns to the question I am repeatedly asked: “How did Trippin on Two Wheels get started?” Forcing an inner smile, I look over to see Dennis’ unwaxed mustache flying horizontal in the 60 mph breeze. His face is set in a comfortable way, as roaring down the road on his ’69 BMW R60 he indulges in his own motorcycle Chautauqua. Sam is on point for the first time in the series, and looking back for the answer it all seems like such a long time ago.
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Why? Why are they killing us? These sudden outbursts of anger, frustration and despair cause her to stare into the half-light, physically vibrating from the hatred inside that is unable to escape. The swirling maelstrom of vitriol becoming a supernatural demon that is possessing this sweet, bright and energetic young lady. Then it’s over, and she is back, in the way I’ve seen soldiers wounded in battle leave the moment and return during similar conversations.
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So you want to make a television show? You see yourself riding around on the latest model motorcycles, visiting exotic locations and getting the video footage you need as you go. Fine food, fine dining, and each day a kaleidoscope of sunshine and dramatic scenery- What could be easier or more fun? And then after your return, you invite your riding buddies over to watch your adventures on the big screen in the living room. The credits roll, the music plays, and off you are reliving the experience one more time in glorious technicolor. Well, with five episodes of Trippin on Two Wheels under our belts, the truth is, it’s a long way from the idea most people have when you tell them you are shooting television in Europe.
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When God told Sergey Lysak to prepare for war on February 21, 2022, no one took him seriously. As Putin massed troops on the Ukrainian border, most people thought it was nothing more than a military exercise. Sergey knew war was coming though, and that he needed to be ready. Stockpiling food, money and other resources, Sergey brought his team to the family home in Hostomel. He knew fuel and transport would be needed, then made sure cars were fueled and people had cash.
He told everyone to be ready.
Traveling again with the usual suspects, Dennis and Sam Gage, as we roamed around Quebec filming another episode of our Speed Channel TV series “Trippin on Two Wheels,” gave us the chance to explore one of the most fascinating places we had been in the series. Riding three identical Buell Ulysses motorcycles also gave us a chance to sample one of the most eclectic motorcycles ever produced. Part dirt bike, part sport bike, with some distinct adventure travel genes infused, the big paint shaker V-twin was icing on the character cake of this totally eccentric motorcycle.
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Then he heard them, otherworldly giants in the distance screaming their haunting battle cry, filling the silent night air with their spine-chilling roar. Behind the concrete blocks, the fear swept over him as he felt these murderous creatures growing closer, hidden for now by the dark. Fierce, inhuman beings invading his land, destroying everyone and everything in their path, and he alone, with one automatic rifle, the last line of defense before children would be snatched from their beds and families destroyed as these grotesque abominations took over this village.
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“I’m going to walk into the center of town for coffee and a smoke with my friends, then my girlfriend is going to have sex with a Superhuman.” I can’t help but laugh, Nazar laughs, and in this special moment I’m lifted by his incredible happiness. He is going home a hero, and for the first time since a Russian artillery shell took his leg and after undergoing 17 surgeries, he will be without his wheelchair.
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The way the early morning sun lights the village clinging to the side of the mountain behind us brings the name of the story to me in a second, and the moment is instantly consigned to my mental notebook. The warm, golden sunshine ignites my soul as it sets the Spanish countryside ablaze with color. It is the moment I thought would never come. Struggling through heavy rain for three days, fighting inner demons as we picked our way along treacherous roads, and riding with our hearts in our mouths, knuckles white on the bars, had been tough. These difficulties were important though, and at that moment totally necessary, as the scene of intense beauty filling my visor could not have been so incredible without the struggle. Anyone can come to Spain, when under the cloudless blue sky the late afternoon sun is turning the small white pueblos gold against the pastel Spanish landscape. But to see it after the rain intensifies the moment, the way the act of traveling tears through the fabric of time. In the saddle of the Tuono I am singing in my helmet, as the throttle gets twisted hard in search of the day’s new horizons.
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