Well, IÔÇÖm now 318 miles away from returning home after a month-long, 5500 mile outing on the Rockster. And while I have had an incredible time and the scenery has been spectacular, my biggest discovery has been that I am not a big fan of touring by motorcycle.
I write this not to judge or criticize avid iron-butt masters of the road. Rather, I would like to learn from those who enjoy two-wheeled travel. What compels you to ride a motorcycle instead of driving a car on an extended road trip? What am I doing wrong? Why did I find the bike to be so inconvenient? Do I need an entirely different outfit or could it be that itÔÇÖs just not my sport?
Please donÔÇÖt let my opinions anger you, but I would be greatly interested in your feedback.
Briefly, the trip started on a route north from Los Angeles, up the coast to Monterey where I headed east across California, Oregon and Idaho to Yellowstone National Park, then north to Glacier National Park and Waterton Lakes in Canada. The return trip was a route back to the west coast through the Idaho panhandle and Washington. One of the highlights of the trip was a pair of ferry rides across the Puget Sound to and from Vancouver Island which left me with a ride home, covering the entire west coast of the United States. As I write this, IÔÇÖm sitting on a balcony in Carmel-By-The-Sea overlooking the ocean and the small, quiet town. Tomorrow IÔÇÖll complete the circuit that started with great excitement, 28 days ago, in my driveway in Echo Park, CA on August 1.
I have unquestionably connected with my bike and I love riding it. On occasion IÔÇÖve also connected with the road when I find myself navigating tight switchbacks and scenic twisties. There was even an entire day of rain that increased the level of adventure and was not altogether that unpleasant (though I was very happy to move from the seat to the hot tub after 5 hours).
IÔÇÖve had plenty of road time to ponder the pros and cons of touring by motorcycle and I can honestly say that I find no logic in the use of a motorcycle over an automobile for an extended road trip. I truly feel that, had I been in my car for this same excursion, the advantages I would have gained would have far outweighed the ones that I would have lost and that my enjoyment of the trip would have increased enormously. HereÔÇÖs why:
1. I could have covered the miles more easily and in greater comfort. In my car, when my butt gets stiff, I have a number of optional positions that will help alleviate the discomfort. 350 miles in a single stretch is not uncommon. On the bike, however, I could only find one or two workable positions and subsequently had to stop about every 90 miles to stretch and recharge. While several stops can add flavor to a road trip, more often than not, these stops were not at a time and place of my choosing and I might find myself wilting in the sun or dodging the rain inside the stall of a self serve car wash.
2. It seems that no matter how alert I am, I seem to forget some part of the ÔÇ£take-offÔÇØ procedure until IÔÇÖve already gained my position in traffic. In the car, I can reach for the sunglasses and put them on, or switch on the stereo without having to stop and plug in. Too often I would have to make another stop just to scrub that smeared dragonfly off my face shield after forgetting to do so at the fueling station. Worse, I would occasionally find myself by the side of the road, removing my helmet so I could insert the earphones that never made it back into my ears after the last butt-stretch. Admittedly, I can be a bit of an airhead (or, oilhead in my case?) but IÔÇÖm usually pretty sharp. Still, it was a rare and celebrated event when my ÔÇ£take-offÔÇØ didnÔÇÖt require a supplementary (and usually very irritating - no matter how quick) visit to the shoulder of the road.
3. I think I would have enjoyed a much stronger element of spontaneity ÔÇô having the option of sleeping in my car in a pinch. IÔÇÖm used to spending as much time on the road each day as my wandering nature requires, without the cloud of finding a place to sleep hanging over my head. While other times of the year may be different, I was traveling during a peak season so motel rooms were often very difficult to find after 4 or 5 in the afternoon. Campgrounds were even more scarce (and those, almost any time of day). Consequently, since I couldnÔÇÖt imagine sleeping on my 12-inch square motorcycle seat, I repeatedly found myself riding past places that I know would have entirely absorbed me and helped create an incredibly fulfilling vacation. Conversely, I can always rely on my trusty VW to provide a safe and restful, if not entirely comfortable nightly shelter when nothing else is available.
4. And the convenience factor! Obviously there was a considerable amount of sightseeing on this trip. I pull up to a sight (say Diablo Lake overlook) and I have to: a) find a stable place to lean the bike on its stand b) unclip myself from the sound system (an iPod of course) c) remove my gloves, sunglasses, helmet and earplugs and, d) stumble down a hot dusty trail in my 2 or 3 layers of protective gear and my biking boots. At times only staying long enough to snap a few pictures, I then have to reverse this entire process before I can ride (sometimes only a few minutes) to the next stop. Contrast that with touring in a t-shirt, shorts and flip-flops. I pull in to any available parking spot, switch off the ignition, grab the camera out of the console and wander down the path in comfort.
Needless to say, though IÔÇÖll keep my Rockster for commuting (nothing beats the way it negotiates LA traffic) and occasional day trips, the next time I get a chance to spend an irresponsible amount of time on the road, I will be in my car with the windows down and the sunroof open all the way (which, incidentally, gives me much more of a ÔÇ£wind in the hairÔÇØ feeling than riding in full armor with 4 of my 5 senses dampened by a full face helmet). IÔÇÖll take an ice chest full of sandwiches and lemonade over the exhilarating rush at the twist of a throttle. And for me, being able to carry my large, down pillow now wins out over the tiny savings in fuel economy (35mpg v. 40mpg).
I write this not to judge or criticize avid iron-butt masters of the road. Rather, I would like to learn from those who enjoy two-wheeled travel. What compels you to ride a motorcycle instead of driving a car on an extended road trip? What am I doing wrong? Why did I find the bike to be so inconvenient? Do I need an entirely different outfit or could it be that itÔÇÖs just not my sport?
Please donÔÇÖt let my opinions anger you, but I would be greatly interested in your feedback.
Briefly, the trip started on a route north from Los Angeles, up the coast to Monterey where I headed east across California, Oregon and Idaho to Yellowstone National Park, then north to Glacier National Park and Waterton Lakes in Canada. The return trip was a route back to the west coast through the Idaho panhandle and Washington. One of the highlights of the trip was a pair of ferry rides across the Puget Sound to and from Vancouver Island which left me with a ride home, covering the entire west coast of the United States. As I write this, IÔÇÖm sitting on a balcony in Carmel-By-The-Sea overlooking the ocean and the small, quiet town. Tomorrow IÔÇÖll complete the circuit that started with great excitement, 28 days ago, in my driveway in Echo Park, CA on August 1.
I have unquestionably connected with my bike and I love riding it. On occasion IÔÇÖve also connected with the road when I find myself navigating tight switchbacks and scenic twisties. There was even an entire day of rain that increased the level of adventure and was not altogether that unpleasant (though I was very happy to move from the seat to the hot tub after 5 hours).
IÔÇÖve had plenty of road time to ponder the pros and cons of touring by motorcycle and I can honestly say that I find no logic in the use of a motorcycle over an automobile for an extended road trip. I truly feel that, had I been in my car for this same excursion, the advantages I would have gained would have far outweighed the ones that I would have lost and that my enjoyment of the trip would have increased enormously. HereÔÇÖs why:
1. I could have covered the miles more easily and in greater comfort. In my car, when my butt gets stiff, I have a number of optional positions that will help alleviate the discomfort. 350 miles in a single stretch is not uncommon. On the bike, however, I could only find one or two workable positions and subsequently had to stop about every 90 miles to stretch and recharge. While several stops can add flavor to a road trip, more often than not, these stops were not at a time and place of my choosing and I might find myself wilting in the sun or dodging the rain inside the stall of a self serve car wash.
2. It seems that no matter how alert I am, I seem to forget some part of the ÔÇ£take-offÔÇØ procedure until IÔÇÖve already gained my position in traffic. In the car, I can reach for the sunglasses and put them on, or switch on the stereo without having to stop and plug in. Too often I would have to make another stop just to scrub that smeared dragonfly off my face shield after forgetting to do so at the fueling station. Worse, I would occasionally find myself by the side of the road, removing my helmet so I could insert the earphones that never made it back into my ears after the last butt-stretch. Admittedly, I can be a bit of an airhead (or, oilhead in my case?) but IÔÇÖm usually pretty sharp. Still, it was a rare and celebrated event when my ÔÇ£take-offÔÇØ didnÔÇÖt require a supplementary (and usually very irritating - no matter how quick) visit to the shoulder of the road.
3. I think I would have enjoyed a much stronger element of spontaneity ÔÇô having the option of sleeping in my car in a pinch. IÔÇÖm used to spending as much time on the road each day as my wandering nature requires, without the cloud of finding a place to sleep hanging over my head. While other times of the year may be different, I was traveling during a peak season so motel rooms were often very difficult to find after 4 or 5 in the afternoon. Campgrounds were even more scarce (and those, almost any time of day). Consequently, since I couldnÔÇÖt imagine sleeping on my 12-inch square motorcycle seat, I repeatedly found myself riding past places that I know would have entirely absorbed me and helped create an incredibly fulfilling vacation. Conversely, I can always rely on my trusty VW to provide a safe and restful, if not entirely comfortable nightly shelter when nothing else is available.
4. And the convenience factor! Obviously there was a considerable amount of sightseeing on this trip. I pull up to a sight (say Diablo Lake overlook) and I have to: a) find a stable place to lean the bike on its stand b) unclip myself from the sound system (an iPod of course) c) remove my gloves, sunglasses, helmet and earplugs and, d) stumble down a hot dusty trail in my 2 or 3 layers of protective gear and my biking boots. At times only staying long enough to snap a few pictures, I then have to reverse this entire process before I can ride (sometimes only a few minutes) to the next stop. Contrast that with touring in a t-shirt, shorts and flip-flops. I pull in to any available parking spot, switch off the ignition, grab the camera out of the console and wander down the path in comfort.
Needless to say, though IÔÇÖll keep my Rockster for commuting (nothing beats the way it negotiates LA traffic) and occasional day trips, the next time I get a chance to spend an irresponsible amount of time on the road, I will be in my car with the windows down and the sunroof open all the way (which, incidentally, gives me much more of a ÔÇ£wind in the hairÔÇØ feeling than riding in full armor with 4 of my 5 senses dampened by a full face helmet). IÔÇÖll take an ice chest full of sandwiches and lemonade over the exhilarating rush at the twist of a throttle. And for me, being able to carry my large, down pillow now wins out over the tiny savings in fuel economy (35mpg v. 40mpg).
). the bike also affords all the things others have mentioned, comraderie, frequent stops to stretch and see the sights, a feeling of "conectivity" with the world around you. 
