Article and Photos By: Charlie Weisel
Originally Published In The January 2019 Issue Of Cycle Source Magazine
To say that most of us have a strong connection to our motorcycles is a bit of an understatement I think, its more of a love affair. A bond between man and machine that is near impossible to explain to someone who hasn’t experienced it. Our motorcycles are more than just a frame a motor and a seat, they are our trustworthy steeds that guide us to far away destinations, our friends house around the corner or a quick overnight camping trip. They are also our therapist, our friend and when it is broken down, it feels more like our mortal enemy. They fight us one week and then redeem themselves the next by operating flawlessly. They can be fickle, they can be rock solid, but at the end of the day they are ours, and we love them no matter what.
For somewhere in the ballpark of ten years I’ve been riding the same motorcycle, it wasn’t until a couple of years back that I put a second in the stable, a decision I still feel guilty about. I could almost feel my choppers heartbreak as I rolled that shiny new BMW R1200 GSA beside it. That being said, I still ride the chopper far more than the BMW GS for really no other reason than that is what I prefer, and it was what I am used to, I’m a creature of habit. Sure, the BMW is far more powerful, handles better, is more comfortable on a rough road, and clearly more reliable, but it lacks soul. It lacks the connection I have with my chopper. When riding the BMW it feels like nothing more than getting from point A to point B, but when on my chopper, every moment is a spiritual connection with the environment. That is what riding is all about. Experiencing the environment first hand and viewing your surroundings without the distractions of a radio, climate control, and windshields.
I recently rolled 200,000 miles on my odometer, and it really got me thinking about all the experiences and places my motorcycle has taken me. They are countless. I’ve experienced some of the world’s finest mountain passes in the Swiss Alps, extreme heat across the deserts of Utah and Arizona, bone-chilling cold through a Wyoming winter. I’ve ridden through crosswinds so bad it literally brought me to a halt on the side of the road leaving me wondering how I would make it any further. Snow-packed roads, sloppy, muddy roads, and loose gravel roads. I’ve ridden down single-track trails in Colorado, down the twisting roads of the Black Forest in Germany, across stretches of Mexico where the potholes threaten to eat you alive. I have slept next to it on beaches, in parking lots, in garages and in remote, dense forests. I’ve pushed it into motel rooms. Through 17 countries and 48 states, this damn thing just keeps going and testing my limits along the way.
