Article and Photos By: Chopper Charlie Weisel
Originally Published In The February 2017 Issue Of Cycle Source Magazine
For as long as I can remember I’ve loved maps. Sitting down at the kitchen table and spreading out the Atlas is one of my favorite pastimes, I’ve been known to study them like a book. So much more than an awkwardly folded piece of paper, a map is a guide to places unknown to many and explored intently by others. What drove explorers and residents to these areas are what I strive to find out. More often than not, towns are located on rivers, for obvious reasons, such as ease of transporting goods in and out, as well as an abundant food and water source. Other towns are located in areas of fertile ground for planting crops such as corn and wheat, some are high in the mountains which are known for mining gold, silver and other precious minerals, yet others leave us scratching our head a bit. While most of these towns are easily accessible from a heavily traveled paved road, many are located far down a gravel road offering few to no services, some of which are even considered ghost towns. Many of these villages and towns, steeped in history, have come and gone with nothing left but a handful of dilapidated buildings to remind us of its once prosperous existence. These are the towns that are difficult to reach and the ones I’ve been wanting to explore the most recently.
I can’t tell you how many times I have passed a sign for some oddly named village, population 6, with the sign cautiously pointing straight down a muddy and rutted dirt road, every time this happens I start to think that maybe I am on the wrong bike, oh how I would love to explore in the dirt. Sadly, my chopper does have its limits, though I have pushed them well beyond. All this pushing of limits though, combined with the stupidly long rigid front end is what ultimately led to its frame breaking. A sad day around my house indeed. I can’t be too sad though, that rig has taken me 170,000 miles through 17 countries and 48 states with countless memories and almost all without too major of a hiccup. Now, I know what you are thinking, should be an easy fix. Throw a quick weld on it and get back on the road, right? Basically yes. But, I’ve been dreaming of a BMW for many years and this was the tipping point. I went out and purchased a 2017 BMW GS1200 Adventure….. gasp…now before you go getting all judgy thinking I’ve traded teams and now only hang out at Starbucks with my new financial advisor friends, hear me out.
I’ve always loved choppers and I will always love choppers. In my opinion, choppers are what keep motorcycles great, they fuel creativity, thinking outside the box of what is possible, but they do have their limits, something that took me a long time to admit to myself. I need a bike with no limits. A bike that can take me far into the mountains on an obscure fire road or trail, a bike that will take me to a remote campsite at 14,000 feet, far from civilization. A bike that will allow me to cross the Great Plains on gravel, take me as far south as Argentine on Route 40 or as far north as the Dalton Highway. As much as I have convinced myself that my chopper will do anything, it just won’t. Am I trading teams? No. Am I giving up on my chopper? Absolutely not. It will be back on the road soon and destroying just as many miles as it always has. After all, there is no way I’m showing up to Sturgis on a BMW, I’d have to make fun of myself for that. What I am doing, is expanding my horizons, offering myself the ability to adventure deeper off the common path. By doing so I can grow as a selfproclaimed modern day explorer and offer more stories such as the ones read in this magazine. After all, pretty much anything involving two wheels is awesome.
In the short month of having this new bike, all while feeling like I was cheating on my chopper, simultaneously questioning my decision and taking all kinds of heat from my friends, I have learned just what it can do and what doors it will open. This is a machine that is virtually unstoppable. It’s only limits so far are its operator, and that reality was about to slap in the face like a Beverly Hills house wife being told she’s fat. A couple of weeks back I had the opportunity to join my friends Steve and Joel on my first true off road experience, and what an experience it was. It has been a long time since I felt my nerves tingle on a bike. There aren’t many situations that make me uncomfortable these days, that was not my experience on that Saturday. Countless times I felt my adrenalin spike to clearly unhealthy levels and body parts pucker so tight I could have turned dirt into diamonds as I tackled steep rocky slopes, loose sandy descents and off camber trails.
All new to me, and second nature to Steve and Joel, I was humbled. Those two handled the difficult-to-me situations as if they were on a bicycle path, while I stopped to assess the importance of my life. How far down the hill would I fall? How long would it take for a rescue helicopter to get here? Maybe I should make out a will. These were the thoughts in my head as I stood on the pegs, grabbed a handful of throttle and muscled my way awkwardly through a “tough” spot with the grace of a 3-legged cow. But, I got through it (with only one minor horizontal parking incident) and I’ll get through it again. That’s the part I think I’m the most excited about, getting myself into difficult situations on this new bike and learning ways to overcome them. Pushing my own personal limits. Is that not something we should all be doing in all facets of our lives? I tend to think so. Where this bike will take me exactly is unclear to me at this point, but wherever that may be, I accept the challenge with open arms, pushing the boundaries.
