I like your bike!

If you’re curious to see my tastes before this bike, check out Chapter 3: Gelände Straße

I don’t know exactly how to phrase it—so I’ll be direct: aesthetics usually haven’t been high on the criterion list when I purchase a motorcycle. My first bike, a Kawasaki Vulcan 750, was a mix between power cruiser, 80s airbrush, and aviator sunglasses. The bike had two earlobes that were supposed to be air filters, but they never quite looked right. However, it was the perfect first bike for me. It had hydraulic valves, meaning no expensive valve inspection interval every 10,000 miles. It had a fuel gauge, so I didn’t have to worry about flipping over to the reserve tank going down the freeway. It was shaft-driven, so I never had to scrub a chain every 600 miles.

I remember seeing my second bike, the Suzuki V-Strom, up on the turntable at the motorcycle show and instantly falling in love with the big yellow beast. It wasn’t really a looker either, as a first-generation adventure bike for Suzuki. I purchased that bike in my late 20s and was often teased for riding an “old man’s bike.” It was reliable to a fault and had no major issues over the nearly 120,000 miles I owned that motorcycle. I lovingly nicknamed it the wood-paneled station wagon, as that bike wasn’t really a looker either.

I loved the adventure bike category and always wanted to own a BMW GS. It’s by far the most stylish bike I own—but they’re quite common here. The GS is staunchly functional in nature and is not really known for its aesthetics (what were you thinking, BMW, in the design for the 2024 R1300 GS? Even a year later, I still can’t get my head around the aesthetics on that bike). Even the local BMW dealership joked, “You don’t have to look at the bike when you’re riding it.” The problem for me is that I always photograph my motorcycle on trips, LOL. I remember being up in Tahoe and a 20 year old guy yelled out “Nice bike (yay)…. My dad has one (not so yay), lol).

Which brings me to the Triumph Speed Triple. It’s the first bike I’ve owned that’s truly stylish. I was instantly drawn to the dual round headlights. Born a 2007 model, it sat in a garage for over 15 years, only gaining about 1,200 miles. When I saw that bike, I could see its beauty and its desire to be ridden. When I see it in the garage—even a year later—there’s still a pause in my breath. I need to respect that bike, but in the same moment, I need to ride that bike. It truly is born a street fighter and is meant for the urban warrior.

Rather than take the truck, I decided to take the Speed Triple to run some errands and take care of some appointments. As I was leaving my last appointment for the day, an older man paused as he was walking to his car, waved, and said, “
I like your bike!” I nodded and said, “Thank you!” I’d put him just over or under 80, but he had a smile and a light in his eyes I could see even in our brief interaction. Literally two blocks down the road at a stop sign, a kid no older than 14 yelled out, “I like your bike!” I waved back and yelled, “Thank you!” I was grinning ear to ear, as two people from very different places and walks of life both saw the same thing I saw in that Speed Triple—it’s just a beautiful motorcycle that draws you in.

I decided to take the long way home and explore the back roads near the house, rewarding both the bike and myself. The Speed Triple and I are still getting to know one another, as he pushes me in many ways as a motorcyclist with his taut suspension, aggressively forward riding position, and a throttle that would zoom me into tomorrow if I let it. That bike demands respect yet wants to be pushed. I’m still learning that balance. As I’m headed toward home after a fun afternoon in the hills, it starts to rain.

I’ve come a long way in my decidedly anti-rain riding position. I dealt with it in New Zealand. I embraced it in Canada. The BMW GS is designed to be a go-anywhere, do-anything bike. Somehow, this felt different. My beauty was in the rain. Not only that, it was the first rain of the season when all the mud, oil, crud, and other stuff comes out of the road. Part of me wanted to protect the bike from all the dirt and grime getting into all the crevices of the motorcycle. The other part of me wanted to shield myself from the brawn of this machine on slick pavement in traffic.

It was a tap dance to get home—but one I’m thankful for, learning how to ride this particular beauty in inclement weather. Thank you, old man and young man, for the smiles today.

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