Riding motorcycles is pretty much everything you’ve heard or imagined it is. It’s exhilarating and freeing, but at the same time humbling and meditative. There’s a lot of time to think out there, but a healthy awareness of your surroundings is always necessary if you’re going to keep the shiny side up. Time for motorcycle metaphors.

Over the years, Mike and I have ridden these bikes through some damn beautiful places: Maine, Nova Scotia, Blue Ridge Mountains, Adirondacks and the Smokies. Most of the time I like following Mikey, because I like his pace and trust his judgment. Occasionally he forgets the route, but it usually ends up with us laughing as he adamantly explains that he was SURE he was right. GPS mounted on the handle bars has changed a lot of this, but I kind of miss the days when I would take out the big map, write out directions on a little piece of paper and hope he would remember which way to go.

I followed Mike through Northern Colorado yesterday on a perfectly beautiful route full of straightaways and curves. Riding along the Illinois river towards the Medicine Bow mountains in Wyoming was a cruiser’s dream.
Taking curves is one of those moments that embody all the emotions of being on a motorcycle. You see it coming and and you are at once excited and totally present. Depending on the information you have you can relax and enjoy, or tense up and feel anxious. You begin to contemplate your speed, take in your surroundings and anticipate what is around the bend, or cliff, as it may be. Take a blind curve too slow and you have to muscle the bike through it struggling mentally and physically through the whole thing. Take it too fast, and you risk losing control or being surprised by something you couldn’t see coming. The worst is when you miss the road sign telling you it’s coming and you have to make adjustments at the last minute to accommodate a situation you really didn’t need to be in in the first place. Occasionally you come around a blind curve only to get caught by a wind gust amd find you’re headed straight towards a storm.

Sweepers are my favorite. Long stretches of road in front of you with the mountains getting closer, and if you’re lucky a little river running alongside you accentuating the curves. These are the curves you see coming and approach with happy anticipation. Gliding through one, the next curve already in sight, totally present as the tiniest adjustment keeps you perfectly placed and on course. Pure bliss.

I have followed Mike through a lot of curves in life. A few have been blind curves that I feared and resisted, leaving me muscling through the moment afraid of what was on the other side. I may have even missed a sign or two advising me to change my speed, slow down and be cautious. Most of them have been blissful sweepers where you can see way ahead of you and anticipate what’s coming. Long stretches full of happy memories where tiny adjustments kept things on track. The blind curves I had to take on my own taught me a lot. If you resist change and fear what you can’t see or imagine, you suffer. Trust yourself, stay aware and keep moving and you come out stronger and better prepared for the next curve.

Like I said, I like following Mike. I like his pace and I’m happy to be on one of the straightaways with him right now. When the curves come, I know he will always be waiting on the other side ready for the next part of the journey. The view in my rear view mirror is pretty good too.

gets a bad rap in the history of religion and philosophy. Remember that shark in Finding Nemo who was trying to convince himself that “fish are friends not food”? That’s kind of where we have been in relation to our bodies for much of Western history—trying to distance ourselves from our animal nature–teeth clenched, bead of sweat on the brow.    

Philosophy and religion have demonstrated a fairly consistent disapproval, or at best tolerance, of bodily pleasure. Plato’s Pheado is a great example of this. Socrates happily accepts his death so he can be rid of his bothersome, distracting physical body. And we are taught that our earthly task is to disassociate ourselves from our meddlesome bodies as much as possible–to starve it of pleasure–so that our minds are free to pursue knowledge. It’s not hard to hear echoes of this asceticism in the history of religion and philosophy.
Part of the problem is that philosophy and religion tend to attract certain types of people. Part of the problem is that strict regulations of the body were probably necessary to form and maintain social institutions and order.  

Whatever the reason, it seems that we are we are now in the process of lifting some of these taboos. And this is mostly for the good. 

Whatever else we may or may not be, we are animals. Our animal bodies are good. Animal pleasure is good. What the Stoics understood, however, is that to maximize pleasure you need to be careful with it—to exercise some control without demonizing it. Maximizing your long-term pleasure means making some short-term sacrifices. This is an enlightened hedonism, a healthy relationship to pleasure.

What’s the connection to motorcycles, you ask? My particular hedonism this week has not been very enlightened.   And this particular body seems to be getting bigger by the day. Turns out that riding motorcycles burns lots of calories, just not your own. I am also shocked to learn that beer and pizza do a lot more harm when you haven’t seen the inside of a gym in a week. Looks like there’s a reason that the “small” in a Harley store fits a high school nose tackle.

And I don’t think the 250 miles on the docket for today–Saratoga, WY to Grand Junction, CO—are going to do a damn thing to solve this problem. 

Anyway. See you there.  

Click me.

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• Click here for a quick ride.

We arrived in Colorado last night with John Denver, Rocky Mountain High serendipitously playing on the radio station…..it did not disappoint! After 1800 miles of corn fields, road food and motels on I-80, we were  thrilled to see Mike’s ex-girlfriend and dear friend, Kathy O’Keefe, in the driveway welcoming us to her beautiful new home in Broomfield, CO, complete with this spectacular view out the back door.

Kathy’s furniture has not all arrived yet……here’s how the conversation went:

MIKE: (Speaking to ex-girlfriend while peering into the master bedroom down the hall where the only bed is at the moment, as ex-girlfriend and ex-wife sit at the dining room table having a beer.)

“Is this where ‘we’ are sleeping?”

EX-G: “Yes…..I’ll Take the couch”

(Mike wanders in to check out his lodging while ex-girlfriend and ex-wife look at each other and share an awkward moment of silence. Ex-wife processes this last statement.)

EX-W: (in lowered voice) “YOU sleep with him.”

(Ex-girlfriend laughs, takes a sip of beer and shakes her head “NOOOO”)

EX-W: “Fine, you and I sleep together.”

EX-G: “No way. I don’t want Mike sleeping on my new white couch.”

EX-W: (Nods knowingly) “Damn, sister. I totally get that.”

EX-G: “We’ll flip a coin for the couch.”

EX-W: “Done.”

I never did win at coin flips.

Leg #1 of this journey has been brought to you by Bud Light, Harley Davisdon and Fabreze (not pictured).

has always been one of my favorite books. In fact, it’s a reason I wound up with a motorcycle.

People talk about feeling free on a motorcycle. That’s never been the appeal for me.   Some folks like the speed and the danger, but that always struck me as a sort of external way of getting your jollies.   Some think it’s “badass.”   Bullshit.  Unless you happen to be a great-grandmother in India balancing three sacks of grain, two infants and a baby goat.

That’s badass.

But motorcycles do require a concentration, a presence, a oneness with your environment that is salutary. Riding a motorcycle is an exercise in give and take with your environment, in learning how to discern what is and what is not within your control. A successful journey is the product of a thousand small, thoughtful decisions. It’s applied intelligence. In this sense it is a concrete lesson in the art of living, a lesson in some skills that I’ve struggled with more generally.

The book is actually more about the importance of caring about what you are doing than about motorcycles. When you do something well—with attention, with concern—you make it better. You make you better. And the effect it has on both you and the work ripples outward. People can sense it–the humility, the generosity—and they just might be inspired to do something similar. You can make the world better in ways that you could never have predicted.

Out before 9:00 a.m. this morning for the first time yet, and heading for Broomfield, CO, where my ex-wife and I will stay for two nights with my ex-girlfriend. Will keep you posted.

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And soy.  

Omaha tonight.   Colorado tomorrow.   

Pulling out for the morning.  No trailer brakes.     Here Mike can be seen cutting out the floorboard so we can Fred Flintstone it in a pinch.   

Just a loose wire.  We are fully functional and taking in the beautiful diversity of  Ohio corn fields.  

And her trailer and her Harley.     It’s 1200cc.    My bike is 790.   It’s 500 pounds.   Mine is 400.   When I met her she kickboxed.    She was totally surprised when I told her she was a tad intimidating.