The Allure Of The Motorcycle Is Alive And Well

Editor’s note: Bloomberg recently published an article by Gideon Litchfield entitled, “The Allure of The Motorcycle is Stalling Out”, and after a thorough reading (you can check it out for yourself HERE) and careful consideration, we asked Road Dirt Editor-at-Large Ted Edwards to craft a reasoned response. We believe this speaks for the vast majority of us who love to ride. Let us know your thoughts in the comments section below.

To him who questions, I say come.  To the naysayer, the doubter, the black cloud sliding in from the side to darken the bright blue sky, I say come.  Easy it is to accuse from afar, to point a finger at a distance, to scoff from the stands at the one on the field.  Difficult it is to join him in the ring, to be in the fight, and carry alongside.

To Gideon Litchfield and his article for Bloomberg magazine titled “The Allure of The Motorcycle is Stalling Out,” I say come.  In his article the author celebrates his new US citizenship by embarking on a three and a half week, 5000 mile ride across America. Stating that his primary sensations were discomfort and boredom, Litchfield asserts motorcycling is pointless, perilous, impractical, the least freeing form of transportation there is and it is a bad idea in general.  The only reason to do it, he says, is that it is “sexy”.

Definitely not bored.

First, kind sir, congratulations on your US citizenship.  Your membership in this great country was likely a hard earned honor, one we natives take for granted.  Well done.  Second, if the article was written for attention, that sly media tactic of stirring up controversy to earn the spotlight, congratulations again sir, it worked.  You earned my click.

However, if this is how you really feel, Mr. Litchfield, if you truly think that motorcycling is “a terrible idea”, and “the least freeing form of transportations there is,” if that is what you believe, then come.

This is your invitation to come to my Pacific Northwest home and ride; come to the upper left and see.  Just come.  Ditch the excuses, throw away abandon and poke holes in your reasons not to and if you do, I will show you what you were likely seeking on your search for America.  It is out there.  It is right here.  It is all around me.  Come and see.

Breathtaking Washington Pass. This is my back yard. Come and see.

For I have done what you have done.  I have lived off the bike for weeks at a time searching this land.  I have done the slow crawl along the Blue Ridge Parkway in fall, although my twitchy right wrist meant I didn’t crawl for long.  I have strafed the deserts of Nevada, but disagree with Highway 50 being The Loneliest Road In America.  The 168 miles from Tonopah to Ely wins the title for brutality of loneliness and temperature.  Ask me how I know.

However, I also have likely done what you have not done.  I have camped along the beaches of the deep blue Pacific, marveled at endless open Wyoming, camped among the wild horses on Native American Montana land, raced against a Colorado storm and stared at the starry midnight sky while laying on my back on Laguna Seca’s Corkscrew.  At no time did the word “pointless” ever cross my mind. Quite the opposite.  Traveling on the bike is the time I feel most alive.

It’s not always easy. Sometimes, after endless miles of gravel on a sportbike, you just want to kiss the pavement. Best day ever.

Editor-in-Chief Rob Brooks shared some of his thoughts with me: “He’s not wrong about the exposure to the elements, the riding position over miles and hours, the at times confining gear we wear, etc. But the author totally misses the flow of riding, the deep sense of oneness with the machine and our surroundings, the total immersion of manipulating the bike with our entire body, the sensation of speed and cutting through the air,… I could go on. He approached motorcycling perhaps too late in his life, and for a flawed reason. The closest he came to understanding was when he rode with a group for an extended period. So much of motorcycling is best enjoyed/endured in the company of ‘like-minded fools’, as we ride and share the road together, in moving community. It’s almost spiritual, at least to me.” I completely agree.

It is truly a dish best enjoyed with others.  Times I consider golden moments in my life are the ones shared with my brothers on wheels: my father, cousin, son, extended family and good friends like Rob and Phil.  They, and others, are force multipliers in the game of happiness.  As poetic as my solo trips may be, my traveling companions make every day an adventure, and every night a family reunion.

My family motorcycle bonds run deep.

As I sit here typing this, drinking my coffee, staring out the window at the Pacific Northwest’s fall splendor and incoming snow, my phone rings.  It is my dad.  He is planning our June 2025 trip in the middle of November with all of the excitement of a child awaiting Christmas morning, though it is many months away.  Such is our joyful disease.  Considering it a sign from God, I related to him your critical article.  Here was his response.

“Good.  Love it,” he said, “If he stays off the road, it leaves more room for the rest of us.”

Soapbox mounted, Dad’s rant continued.

“The difference between us and him,” he stated, “is the difference between a pioneer setting out to settle the west and someone who stays in St. Louis.  The pioneers were uncomfortable but did it anyway.  Lewis and Clark?  I bet they were uncomfortable too.  They named spots along the west coast with such rosy names as Dismal Nitch and Cape Disappointment.  I bet Christopher Columbus was uncomfortable.  Spain was probably nice and sunny when he left.  George Washington?  I’m sure that instead of crossing the Delaware he probably wanted to just sit around the fire drinking coffee and waiting until his eco-friendly, all electric, self driving Tesla canoe showed up.  And I bet John Glenn was damn uncomfortable orbiting the earth.  Probably pissed his spacesuit.”

“But John F. Kennedy said, ‘We choose to go the moon and do the other things, not because they are easy, but because they are hard.’   So John Glenn strapped himself to a rocket, a much worse ride than any motorcycle, and launched his ass into space.  Washington crossed the Delaware.  Columbus set sail.  Lewis and Clark left for the Pacific.  Pioneers settled the west.  Us?  All we have to do is fill our gas tanks.”

Adventure is out there.

What good is man bound by desk and drawer?  How do we reignite the fire extinguished by comfort and complacency?  What moments plumb the deep abyss of our identity other than those that force us to screw our courage to the sticking place?  When the campfire is built we will not recall the idle times, periods of prosperity and pampering, but regale in lurid stories of magnificent struggle, splendid success and royal failure, the era when we built the house of our identity with bricks of adventures abnormal.  How else will we know our limits?  A mettle untested is no mettle at all.

So come, Mr. Litchfield, come.  Meet me in painfully beautiful Georgia in the fall, join me as we camp along the shores of the Pacific with the waves singing us to sleep, or just come with White Girl and I as we rip the living hell out of Eastern Oregon.

You claim it is pointless and boring.  Come and see.  You claim it is perilous.  I hope so.

Sex on two wheels.

You claim it is sexy. On that point, we certainly agree.

Ted

*So, what do you think? About Litchfield’s article, or our response? Take a moment and share in the comments below!