Lets start with this: I am a full-time rider. I haven’t owned a car in years. More often than not, when I tell people this I get a mixed reaction of “that’s pretty hard-core” and “what do you do about the weather/how do you run errands?”. To be honest, being a full-time rider does have it’s issues, but for the most part the benefits far outweigh the negatives. It comes down to the quality of the experience. I don’t ride full-time because I’m hardcore. I ride full-time because, for me, it provides a better quality of life than owning/driving a car does. A motorcycle is about the experience of getting from point a to b. A car is about just getting to point b. Every trip on a motorcycle is a journey – a little roadtrip that provides a rewarding experience. On a motorcycle you are in the world and the world makes direct contact with you as you travel through it. A car (even a convertible) doesn’t provide this same quality of experience.

In the book I reference in this post’s title, the author explores the meaning and implications of “quality”. The 17-day roadtrip that occurs in the book, is more just the mechanism of conveyance for the discussion. It is the backdrop to a more intellectual study. Riding motorcycles full-time has that same impact for me. A quick ride to the grocery store is an intimate journey through the neighborhood: its sights and sounds, the condition of the road, the way the wind flows around the buildings. You experience the quality of a place at a personal level when on a motorcycle. The catalyst and enhancement to this is the fact that you don’t have other distractions. You don’t have a radio, you can’t answer the phone, you don’t have to adjust the A/C. You just have to ride. It is a singular task that allows you to shut the hell up and contemplate the wider world.

As a motorcyclist, you become more accepting of the things you can’t control and you learn to accept them for what they are. Even getting drenched in an unexpected rainstorm (while not very comfortable) is something more than it is in a car. If you don’t/haven’t ridden, have you ever thought about the quality of the rain you’re traveling through? Have you noticed the subtle difference between the softer rain at the periphery of a storm and the big-fat bee-sting rain at the heart of the storm? Have you noticed the change in the way everything smells as it gets wet for a new rain? Many times all you do is try to avoid getting wet, but once you let go of that, you notice the subtle quality and uniqueness of the storm you are weathering.

As a motorcyclist, you also learn to think ahead. Is it warm or cold? Will it get warmer/colder where you’re headed? Is there rain in the forecast? What do you need to take with you and what can you leave home? — You think about these things each and every time you are about to get in the saddle, and you accept that it’s not always going to be perfect. You try to be prepared for events, you have contemplated their impact on your journey and you do what you can to be able to embrace them or avoid them.

So that’s why I ride. That’s why I haven’t owned a car in years. And that is why I feel the experience has made me a better, more developed person.

I’d love to hear your thoughts and opinions in the comments.

What is the coldest weather you’d ride in. What’s the coldest you’ve ever ridden in. For me that would be 23 degrees (it sucked big time). Let me know in the comments.

Here’s the original story: Stellan Egeland Takes the Harrier to the Track.

This is the builder with his bike:

Builder Stellan Egeland and his creation the Harrier - click to visit his site