It is a nasty sleety kind of winter day and I am sitting in my shop, tea in hand, just contemplating all things motorcycle. It has occurred to me just how fortunate I am to have a space called "shop" attached to the house. It hasn’t always been so. In the not-so-distant past there were at least 20 years of scrounging for winter motorcycle storage space, working on my bikes in driveways and leaving them outside from the beginning of the riding season until the last possible day in the fall. My bikes were always covered when not in use, but still outside. 

Ten years ago when we bought this house on 5 acres of rocky land, it had an attached single-car garage that was not much more than a shed. Dirt floor, uninsulated with two mingy windows, a thriving community of mice, and a tin one-piece garage door that didn’t close properly.  My husband decided that it would make an ideal workshop for his machine tools and it was miraculously transformed.  Cement floor, four lovely big casement windows, insulated and heated, with wide garden doors at the front.  My bikes were destined to live outside again the following winter except that I had a tantrum and space was allocated in ‘his’ shop for bikes during the cold months! Construction or purchase of a bike shed was considered. Then fortunes changed and we built a completely new structure to house both his day job and his shop tools and machines as well… and this wonderful bright space officially became home to my motorcycles. 

I have subsequently added a motorcycle work bench (ramp, no lift), and a laundry type sink with hot/cold water. Along the way I have accumulated a few pieces of low-tech shop furniture: shop vac, air compressor, bench top bead-blasting cabinet, small parts-washing bin with integral pump, and a real toolbox. A small bench-top grinding/buffing wheel completes the inventory. The drill press lives in the basement.  There is also considerable shelf space and two cupboards for keeping gear organized. My workbench is half of a salvaged drafting table and it is sturdy enough to make a good bomb shelter. At 3.5’x10’ with a decent vice on one end, it is a superb addition to the shop. I ask you, what more could a woman want? I am so lucky; both to have this wonderful place to indulge my hobby, and a partner who encourages me at every turn. He doesn’t claim to understand my passion for old motorcycles, but he encourages me, and that is what matters. Bottom line, we each have our own play-house (shop) area and that is a wonderful asset to marital harmony. Life is good. 

So now I can sit and enjoy the company of my bikes, - indoors in our own home. What a luxury this is. I’m certain that there is housework awaiting my attention, and it is almost time to get dinner started – but I will sit here for a while longer and just enjoy…    

Maybe a comfy chair would be a nice addition… and I need a better shop radio! -- Alison Green 

Looking back, high summer equates to rally season. Whether you ride a Vespa or a Ducati, there will be a rally somewhere for your chosen mark.  Say what you will, most of us enjoy looking at and comparing our own to those things that are familiar. Bikers are no exception and it is great fun to kick tires and swap lies with like-minded riders. 

With all of this in mind, and the hopes of finding some riding pants that fit, we (my trust R80G/S and I) pointed south in mid July for the BMWMOA National rally in Vermont.  I had only ever attended one big rally prior to this summer and expectations were running high. Now that I am back home and the bugs have been washed off the bike, I am somewhat ambivalent about the whole experience. 

The organization and thoroughness with which the rally was marshalled was truly impressive. 5,000 plus bikes is a truly astonishing number of vehicles, plus all of those who arrived by other means – we are talking about a serious crowd… Registration, traffic flow, camping, seminars, vendor facilities – I have no complaints on any of those fronts. So why am I less than enthusiastic in retrospect? 

Let me describe one particular bike that happened to be parked beside mine at mid-day. This was a 2004 model G/S – ostensibly a dual-sport machine. It sported aftermarket panniers that brought the width of the bike to 46 inches  across the rear. There were no less than three small view-screens mounted on the handlebars-GPS, Radar detector and something else that I could not identify; plus a CD player, garage door opener, and a few more mysterious gizmos. Heated seat and heated grips were factory installed as were fully integrated ABS brakes. The tail trunk looked big enough to hold two full-face helmets as well as the kitchen sink. The tank bag was one of the variety designed to keep electronic components recharged from the bike’s electrical system. There was a small sticker on the windscreen to let the world know that a performance chip had been installed. The proud owner informed me that he had put 2,700 miles on the bike and that it had never been ridden in the rain or on gravel. This was his longest trip so far (280miles) and he was quite proud of himself.  He was staying in a nearby hotel for the rally. 

Why? What happened to freedom? To adventure? To the out of doors? To the pleasure of riding for the sake of experiencing the country and the roads? 

I guess part of me is jealous that someone would have $30K plus to drop on a bike. But part of me despairs that gadget junkies on expensive machines are not interested in riding, but more in the presentation and image. Sort of like the cruiser set at the local donut shop, only different. Motorcycles as lifestyle accessories! 

I know that this is not universally the case as there were many at the rally on high mileage, well travelled machines. But the general trend seems to be towards high-tech, gadget laden, computer chip technology – and riders who fear to tread the unknown. This is not uniquely a BMW phenomenon – most popular makes appear to be going down the same road.  There is nothing inherently wrong with this scene – but somehow the magic is being overwhelmed with money and gadgets.  I’m all for maximum comfort and safety and convenience, but something is inherently wrong when the image gets in the way of the ride. Riding is not tidy --  gravel roads, rain, bugs, lumpy tent sites, getting lost, high winds, driving off the edge of the map… not necessarily the choice memories of motorcycling – but the magic and the reality.  Sure I would prefer perfect weather and smooth pavements and a king size bed and Jacuzzi every night… but to live in a cocoon and isolate myself from the realities of riding along unknown paths just doesn’t make sense to me. 

For the values that I cherish and for the adventure I crave, I will happily stick with my venerable airheads. The modern gadgets are truly amazing but I’m not certain that my brain could cope. My old bike wears her scratches and stone-chips with pride and many happy memories of truly adventurous rides.  Besides, the thought of riding something as expensive as a new machine would put me into panic mode. Like cars, motorcycles are more user-friendly after the first paint-chip! 

Next year I’m heading for the Mid-Ohio Vintage Days. That will be more my style. -- Alison Green 

Have you ever been thoroughly soaked while riding your motorcycle? Not just damp around the edges wet, but the shivering “I’ll never be warm and dry again” kind of wet? Your gloves feel like sponges and your fingertips are numb; every piece of clothing is uncomfortably stuck to your body; your toes are floating in their own little ponds and your face hurts from squinting through the rain splatters? 

Why? Why do we do this to ourselves? I like to imagine that those fortunate souls who live in the sunny south never experience these sorts of character-building inclement conditions. But who needs it? My character can manage quite nicely without the body-numbing cold that comes from riding too long in the rain.  Even snow! I’d bet my last dollar that I’m not the only fool living in Canada or the northern USA who has arrived at his or her destination encased in ice. Are we collectively crazy? Off the deep end completely? 

I suppose that the answer depends on who is doing the asking. I have yet to meet a determined non-rider who had even an inkling of the ‘why’ of motorcycling. You either have it or you don’t! How do you explain the motivations for a spin on a crisp autumn morning with the frost just starting to burn from the grass? It takes ages to gear up, then the bike is a bit cranky about the cold start, and you fog up your face shield even before you leave the driveway. Then part way through the day, the sunshine disappears and you face too many miles of sharp, stinging rain on the homebound leg… but it was heaven!  The sun was warm on your back, the breeze smelled almost edible, pungent with autumn; the temperature fluctuated astonishingly with every hill and valley, the engine was music to the ears... You feel alive. Your head is clear, your eyes are sparkling and, just for a while, all is right with the world... 

Meanwhile, your significant other has only overheard the pre-trip mutterings about fuel prices and overly snug gear and misplaced glasses… And later when you return home, you are damp and smell of wet cowhide. Chilled and hungry, you shed a trail of dripping gear as you head for the shower to thaw out. How could an "outsider" possibly understand?  I don’t know myself, and I have been searching the road for the answers for many, many miles. 

But I do know that after a good ride, I feel invigorated and less at odds with myself and the rest of the world. Call it meditation if you will, or good karma, or blowing the carbon out of my head. It is good for the soul. The discomforts are part of the price – and worth every penny. 

If those who stay behind see only a dishevelled and damp rider with mud stains and cold fingers and a bad hair day, then so be it. We know, and they don’t – and that is their loss! Some things will never change… Ride safe and keep warm! -- Alison Green