(Originally Published in On the Level, the magazine of the BMW Riders Association.)
My home office resembles that of Professor Dumbledore, with dusty books arching to the ceiling, interspersed with mysterious, arcane objects. Only in my case these things are not related to dragon’s blood and alchemy; they’re almost entirely devoted to motorcycles.
One shelf bends under its peculiar load, displaying my motocross gloves from 1973 (you know, the ones with the ribbed backing that looks like weatherstripping); a set of playing cards featuring major motorcycles of the ‘60s and ‘70s (Munch Mammoth!); and a receipt for my first full-coverage helmet, a Bell Star, in 1974. There’s a bin labeled “Motorcycle Intercoms,” one of which dates from the era of string and Dixie cups. There are also a few plastic motorcycle models. I refuse to say whether I occasionally pull them down and run them around the carpet like a five-year-old.
But the vast, middle portion of this shelf is reserved for clippings from motorcycle magazines of every era. Every time I read about an interesting trip—from Alaska to Argentina, to Asia—I rip the article out, put a staple in it, and file it on the shelf. It’s the same way with motorcycles: whenever I read about another enticing, 50-year-old crock I shouldn’t buy but probably will, I put a staple in the article, and it goes on the shelf.
This obsession with clippings started a few years ago, during a spasm of minimalism and practicality, when I noticed that my shelves were bending under the load of so many motorcycle magazines. Also, I wasn’t re-reading them as I thought I would. They were just sitting there, unloved and unread. So I started my clipping ways.
You could say that defacing print magazines in this manner is a kind of sacrilege for someone who spent most of his working life as a national magazine editor (Bicycling, VeloNews). And yet, here I am, a madman with scissors. Things have changed.
Tripping
I’ve noticed that the more articles I have on a certain destination, the more likely I’ll actually go there. Using this system, the top contenders for future trips are:
South America: This continent is good for six articles, including two with significant off-road riding. My wife, who has traveled on the back in many countries, has so far laid down a firm “no” on this one, perhaps summoning memories of a two-up, off-road trip we did in Tuscany, where I managed to send a rental BMW GS down a ravine when it tipped over at walking pace. I can’t really blame her for a little reluctance.
Norway: Good for two articles, both of which describe biblical amounts of rain. Motorcycle buddies who have gone confirm this: go to Norway, get wet. So of course, I will go.
Alaska: Four, including two on Dead Horse and the Haul Road.
Northern California: A whopping 16 articles, despite the fact that I live there and pride myself on my knowledge of little goaty roads that go from nowhere to nowhere. But there are a lot of dusty corners to this state. Getting to know them is a lifelong occupation….
The Southwest: I have exactly 11 articles on Utah, Arizona, and Nevada.
Across America: Two articles. For someone who grew up in the east but has lived in the west most of his life, I always figured that it was obligatory to complete a motorcycle trip that enables me to dip a toe in both oceans. May do it yet!
Motorcycles
A quick trip through the motorcycle clippings reveal a concerning predilection for two-strokes. There are no less than four articles on the Suzuki T500 twin, three on the “Water Buffalo” (GT750), and two on the Yamaha DT250 (white tank, please). I sense blue smoke and neighbor trouble on the horizon.
There are two articles on the 90-cc Yamaha HT-1, the seminal motorcycle I owned at age 12, thus beginning the long and tortured journey I am on to this day. In brown, please.
There’s one article on the Yamaha YG-1, a single-cylinder, low-pipe, two-stroke street bike that I rode almost exclusively on the trails that were a half mile from our Connecticut home, where my parents could clearly hear the sound of the suspension bottoming.
There are three articles on vintage Moto-Guzzis because, well, I like motorcycles with cylinders that stick out in the wind.
SOHC Hondas from the ‘70s are represented by four articles, particularly the CB500. This would be my third bike in that category, since I restored a CB750 and currently own a CB400F. Why would I need another? No one actually knows, least of all me.
There’s even an article on the Norton Commando, though I long ago promised myself I would never own another vintage British bike, which I consider to be achingly beautiful objects of gross imperfection. But time is short, and the flesh is weak. Could happen.
Since starting my clipping habit, I can’t remember when a single article has been banished to the recycling bin. The shelf bends. My wife sighs. It was ever thus.
Riding, of course, is the best part of motorcycling. But there is also the dreaming part, which is almost as good. We live for the rides, and when we can’t ride, we dream. And read.
In the meantime, if you have any suggestions for places to go or motorcycles to buy, please be a friend and don’t send them….