Author: RR

As in my previous post, I owned since Fall 2016 a Triumph 1200 XRT (Explorer). By the summer of 2020, I had put on a little over of 35,000 wonderful miles. But, there was a ‘however,’ which I identified in my previous post: its weight in absolute numbers (perhaps 700 pounds) and the distribution thereof.

As a matter of safety and self-reliance, I concluded that I should not own a motorbike that I could not lift after a drop or fall. So, I did one final test on Nicodemus. I removed all the gear–both panniers, the top box, the tank bag–and had less than half a tank of gas. Then I gently laid it down on my front lawn.

First shock was that without the panniers, the Triumph lays at more than 90 degrees down from the vertical. That should be obvious, but when you are looking for the first time to grab a handle on something and can barely find where any are because they’re below grass blade level, it’s an aha moment and not a happy one.

From there, the shock turns to awe. The bike is so so top heavy that I could not seem to lift it at all without a life or death effort (which I was not inclined to attempt with two surgically repaired knees). The butt against the seat and leg extension method was utterly useless as the bike was below the horizontal. It would be impossible to lift it in such manner by anybody. Further, getting it lifted a little by squat raise with straight arms so you could do the butt against the seat combination method cannot work unless you had a helper who could put a log or some such under the bike after you had lifted it enough to get a positive angle with respect to the ground for the butt to push against.

Once again while puzzling over what have I just done to myself, and Nicodemus, help arrives, this time a Fed X driver stops, and being a Harley guy, understood my predicament. He did a vastly job than me lifting the bike by the face it and haul it up method but even he alone would not have gotten it up, as it took the two of us.

So, that settled the decision to part with Nicodemus, which was actually a sad decision because of what we had gone through together, and how he had taken care of me, so faithfully. But he was going to have to do his service with someone much stronger or who always rides in pairs or groups.

Now what bike, if any, to get next? I went though so many in my head. It was a challenge because I need a pretty big bike for me and my travels but it had to be a lot lighter than the 1200. I’ll leave out all the details of the options and tradeoffs. I traded the Trump in for a new, but model year old, 2019 BMW F850 GS (but not the Adventure). The advertised weight is 515, and as a parallel twin it is angled closer to the ground that the Triumph’s upright triple, and is at least 100 pounds lighter.

When I rode it, literally for the first time, as I was purchasing it, it did indeed feel much lighter. But, can I lift it? I still don’t know. But there’s another story there that I will tell another time.

So, in the Summer of 2020, I said goodbye to Nicodemus the Triumph and welcomed home Barnabas the Beemer. And me and Barnabas now have about 4,000 miles including one longish trip from mid-FL to Columbus OH by various roads and byways, including a ‘sand-crash,’ with no injury to the bike but some to me. Story to come later. All is well.

I bought the 2017 Triumph Explorer new in the Fall of 2016. Since that time, I’ve put on more than 35,000 miles, principally on the two “adventures” outlined here: 8 Corners / Alaska and Canada / Montreal.

Background:

Here I will comment on my experience with my motorbike. First a few caveats:

• I was not a very experienced rider when I bought the Triumph. More than half a century ago I had a Lambretta scooter for a summer of navigating night shift work in a steel fab plant and day summer college courses, then later a Honda Dream 175 while navigating my PhD studies, then much later a well-used 1978 Goldwing 1100 on an impulse to do a Columbus to Colorado 4,000 mile round trip reenacting Zen and the Art book, and then way later, in 2016, a VSTROM 650 to complete the Route 66 Adventure described elsewhere here. All the pre-Triumph miles did not add up to 10,000, and the pre-VSTROM experiences were as a very young guy, and with the muscle memory of those experiences long lost to time, like teardrops in rain, as the line goes.
• I was not a young guy either: I was in my early 70s when I bought the Triumph. Actually, this was part of my motivation in buying it new (as I did the VSTROM): I had / have no patience for the idea of brakedowns, field repairs, or repairs of any kind. I’d rather take the ‘hit’ on depreciation with the hope that new = reliable.
• In addition to being ‘old,’ I’m big: about 6’4″ and 275, 32 inch inseam.
• I was not / am not a true adventure rider…that is I was not seeking a bike that would be taking me all over unpaved (and worse) roads. I did want to do off-road as opportunity arose, as it did on my 8 Corner adventure (Alaska always does that), but I was not imagining any “Long Way Round,” “Down,” or any other such direction
• I don’t travel with anyone. It’s an act of mercy as to the other riders, and act of freedom for me to do / go as I feel like.
• My traveling was designed around low 50’s mph for 5-6 hours a day, for 250 to 300 miles. If I had to, to escape weather or just end a day quickly because of fatigue, I do high speed freeway riding but only to get somewhere. On the Alaskan adventure, my max day was about 410 miles, with four or five days in the mid 300’s. On my Montreal adventure, I did have a 570 mile day as I was trying to interstate my way home home before a hurricane struck; that was a tough day.
• I brought camping gear (small tent, small cooking stove, sleeping pad, etc.), but only camped two nights, one a really cold one in Alaska another one in Vermont. I just need the comfort of a motel in the evening to rejuvenate mentally and tend to my knees. Love the idea of camping and it was part of my thinking in ‘going big’ as to a motorbike; if I was younger and more agile, I would have camped more. Yet it was nice to have the capability in case I got stranded somewhere without lodging. Stealth camping in a tent is better than laying out in open air.
• I added several upgrades: a custom seat (Corbin), hard panniers and topbox (Triumph), lowered footpeg (cast single piece aluminum, forget who the vendor was), highway pegs, handlebar risers, fog lights (Triumph), and probably some other things . I did get a Camelback (one liter) and then got an upgraded brand that I can’t recall (two liters). I bought a GoPro that I used with a chest strap system, and a SENA 10C (which failed miserably in the first week of the once-in-a-lifetime Alaska adventure, and for which their customer service was utterly useless). I had a TomTom 400 installed by direct wiring so in its cradle it was always fully powered. I also got a large Touratech dry bag (actually it was huge) and wonderful Rox straps to hold it on the pillion. I also got a magnetic tank bag (Coretech). Previously on my VSTROM I had a strap down tank bag that was unsightly and a pain at refueling. This one worked great and never came off (and it has a safety strap that was useful for fueling: I just push the tank bag to half off the side to get to the cap, and then pull it back into position).
• Every meaningful being needs a name. My Triumph is “Nicodemus.” I like to say that it is smart (many computers) and powerful (139 hp) and doesn’t know God (I don’t think). In Chapter 3 of the Gospel of John a man named Nicodemus came to Jesus by night was also smart and powerful, AND he was highly religious: he didn’t know God either…until later. Smarts and power, and even religion, doesn’t get you all the way home.

My Experience

With that background, here in no particular order are 35,000 miles and three years of my experiences:

1. I’ll start with the obvious: this is an amazing machine loaded with all manner of electronic wizardry. (I’ll let you find all the specs on line). I used almost none of it.
2. The only throttle modes I’ve used were “rain” and “road” (there are three others–I don’t even know or care what they are or what they do). “Rain” was really handy in…the rain…but also when I was learning to ride the bike. It made for a mellower throttle response that made my early miles comfortable. After a while, I just kept it on “road” (and still do, unless it’s raining).
3. I’ve only used a single setting, out of nine options, for the all-electronic suspension, one click toward ‘soft’ from the halfway point between ‘soft’ and ‘hard.’ I tried briefly various other settings on the ‘soft’ half of the options, and the one closest to the middle seemed fine and so it has stayed. I did not adjust it for travel loads (or whether I have the hard panniers on or off); I did only a short ride, ca. 4 miles, with a passenger (my wife understood what she was dealing with and has refused any further rides) and it was with the same suspension setting.
4. The ABS has never come on because I’ve been fortunate to not have had any sudden braking or emergency maneuvering, nor any off-road situations that initiated it. (It does have the inclined ABS feature). I rarely use the rear brake as the front brake provides some rear with the primary front braking.
5. I have used the cruise control all the time, and it has worked wonderfully. This has been a huge benefit for long trips as I can move my arms around and get blood back to its various needed places.
6. I have also used the electric windscreen feature all the time. It was a while before I realized what help lowering and raising it could be. For regular road work, I leave it in the full up position, and have a perfect view with negligible wind. When I’m in town and it’s hot, and living in Florida it is supremely hot, I lower the screen all the way and get a nice breeze that helps. So, I only use those two positions: max high and min low. What I really appreciate is that this switching can be done while in motion with just a press on a toggle. I never realized how important this feature would be to me. It would be hard for me to ‘step down’ to a bike without at least a manually adjustable windscreen (or without an electric cruise control).
7. The big gas tank–20 liters (5.1 gallons)–is good and I think necessary for adventure travel. If I’m doing the blue highways (the old two lane roads) at the low 50’s mph, which I love to do, the engine just purrs along at the mid 50’s mpg, so I can get 280 miles or more a tankful. If I do the high 50’s mph, then I get the low 50’s mpg. and get about 250 miles. If I’m having to do the Interstates for some unpleasant reason, and keep up with traffic (low 70’s) or avoid clusters of traffic (let’s say: more than low 70’s) then I get in the low 40s mpg, and get 210 or so, maybe even less, on a tankful. For my Alaska adventure this was a big deal as there are places that require 250 miles of range. I did not want the hassle of carrying rotopaks of gas, and because I was happy to travel in the 50’s mph, I never ran out (but boy was it close once; here’s a tip: never pass up an Alaskan gas station). I generally use the highest octane unless there’s no other option; but, I cannot tell any difference either in performance or mpg. One discovery, that I do not recommend counting on, is the “miles to empty” (MTE) number can go to zero but you can get another 15 miles out of the tank (very uneasily). Speaking of MTE, I settled on zeroing each day on Odo 1 and zeroing each fill up on Odo 2, and keeping on my screen Odo 1 and Odo 2 miles and on third row MTE (after a first-in-the-morning check on the tire pressures, which also uses the third row); then I paid no real attention to the ‘bars’ showing fuel level in the tank. The screen has both the clock and outside air temperature which I’ve appreciated. I also like the analog presentation of speed and RPM. Everything has always been nicely legible.
8. The add on highway pegs were another blessed feature. My Alaskan Adventure was 99 days or riding almost every day on two surgically repaired (but still original) knees. Being able to stretch out made a huge difference especially by using the big dry bag on the pillion: I could almost use it to suspend myself by pressing down on the highway pegs while leaning back (somewhat) onto the bag.
9. The handlebar risers helped but not quite enough. I only was able to add about 2 inches to avoid having to replumb everything that connects. Also I wish the handlebars extended back further. But it was ok.
10. The stock seat was fine for around town riding (but I didn’t buy this for grocery shopping). The folks at Corbin did a nice job on my aftermarket seat, and they’re great to work with as to turn around time. I was not particular on color or style and left it to them for such and am happy with the result. The Corbin is much more comfortable than the standard seat but I was still sore at the end of a day. I think Corbin made it a little narrower than they could have because it was an adventure bike; perhaps a Russell saddle would have been more comfortable. For the first half of the Alaska trip I had a cushiony gel pad (I did not like the air mattress option) that helped. But I lost it at a Triumph dealer (who did NOT return it after service…but after going down the road 100 miles I just gave it up and went without). Now having done perhaps 20,000 miles on just the Corbin, it seems fine but not for those iron butt rallies.
11. The heated seat was nice but did not make a big difference. I had some days, actually quite a few, in the low 40’s F (and even 39), and some drizzle at the same time. Even with the “H” setting (it has H and L), it was good in the sense of not being cold where I sat but it didn’t make for a toasty ride, even huddled below the windscreen in the max H position. The two level grip heater, with the bark busters, was really nice. But again, it was a little surprising how imperfect even this was in the cold weather: the inside of my hands would be warm, but the outsides, even with heavy gloves would be quite cold. But overall I’d rate the heated grips and bark busters highly valuable. In any case, everything always worked, and very easily. (Never tried the pillion heater).
12. The remote tire pressure sensors were really nice to have but also were one of the problems I had. After a short ride in the morning, a block or two, one can read the two tire pressures on the screen, which is reassuring. However, and here is the problem I had: there were valve stem leaks in both tires that were not detected either by me or several Triumph dealerships after I reported steady loss in tire pressure. I found I was losing about 1-2 psi a day at the start of my Alaska ride, necessitating a gas station air hose visit every other day or so; this was annoying because it required an extra job at the gas station, having the right array of quarters (usually 6-8) for a short burst of air, knowing that I’d have to do this again in a day or so. Then, it got worse. I was losing 3-5 psi a day. And then the rear started losing 3-5 psi an hour near Stewart B.C. where there are not a lot of service options. The latter leak turned out to have been cause by a nail puncture causing a slow leak, which I had plugged by a wonderful guy in B.C., who really didn’t want to do that job but they had no other tire option (it’s 18 inches in the rear, which is an oddball size apparently). Finally, finally a mechanic in Portland OR did a bubble check on the valve stem and eureka. Unfortunately my options were (1) remove the sensors and have no valve stem leak, or (2) keep the sensors and monitor the leak. I chose the former, which then required daily kneeling and measuring (which is how everybody does it, but by then I was spoiled). Replacing the valve stems required waiting until I got home and they could be ordered and installed (which was done under warranty: 2 years unlimited miles, which I took advantage of). That solved the problem but now a year later I’m losing 1-2 psi a week in the garage, which I overcome with bicycle pump. So this remote pressure detection feature is very cool, but it’s had a downside. The great news, is that was my major ‘problem’ in all my miles.
13. I like to have backups of backup keys. It’s an old compulsion that probably is the result of a childhood experience of being locked out of the house (perhaps a Rodney Dangerfield experience where my parents did it on purpose). So just before my Alaska trip I bought two extra Triumph keys (they have a ‘bar coded’ insert so you have to get the factory keys), which were not cheap, and then had them cut at a locksmith, and then had the dealer using their fancy electronic gizmo to let the bike know that these were authorized. However, what the dealer didn’t realize, nor me, was that when these two keys were authorized, they deauthorized the old (original) keys. The reason this was missed was that if the backup keys were near the bike when the two originals were tested, the bike started. But if the backups were 100 yards away, then the originals would NOT work. This was a bad news discovery on the eve of my departure. So, I left with three of the keys, hoping to get this resolved at another Triumph dealer somewhere along the way. After 2 days of valiant effort at the wonderful dealer in Missoula MT they learned from talking with Triumph HQ that we had a glitch in the bike security system that required a new whatever which would take forever to get. So again I had to make it without the backups until I got home and got a new whatever installed (again on warranty) and since that time all four keys work. So, this caused me no real problem but I nearly lost (and for a time did lose) one working key resulting in a modest panic / childhood memory of then having only a single key while in a remote campground in Soldotna AK. But I did find that other key and everything worked out. But I ended up being obsessed with assuring myself of my two working keys being with me at all times.
14. I had a headlight bulb burn out, which seems a little early in bike life. So I replaced them both, but it was pretty pricey ($150?).
15. I’ve gone through a lot of tires: 9 on the Alaska trip, 4 fronts and 5 rears. Since then I’ve gone through quite a few more. The bike is really heavy, and I had a lot of gear, and I’m heavy too. Also, I wanted nothing to do with flat tires so I changed them at about 5,000 miles with lots of wear left. I hadn’t thought much about this issue before my first trip because I assumed that like a car one could go a long way on a set. Because of the uncommon sizing, I’ve gone through (seemingly) every brand of tire to get something on the bike during my short visit at every dealer (and I’ve been at almost every one, seemingly, in the U.S.); in one case I had to pay a Fed X fee to get a tire shipped to the dealer so I would only be delayed a day. The bike handles quite differently with the different brands and types (they were always road-primary). I liked the Avons, but have now standardized on the Michelin Anakees. They were all a little louder than I though they should be, but various dealers have told me that it is what it is.
16. Speaking of loudness, the bike is not, and the windshield is quite protective against wind noise. So I have never felt the need for ear protection. I like hearing what’s going on around me and the sound while driving is a droning-like experience, not a theater seat experience, but it is acceptable.
17. Ah, the panniers and topbox. They have been terrific. They all open with the same key, and it’s the ignition key, which also pops open the seats. The boxes all open “up” so nothing spills out on the ground and so they can be packed really full. I packed my stuff in the boxes in waterproof bags out of concern for rain intrusion. But the boxes seem to be quite rain safe, though I don’t count on that for electronics. Also the boxes come off quite easily though I never used such feature to bring a box(-es) into the motel at night. At home, I take the panniers off and just use the top box. I can fit a full face (convertible) helmet in it with room to spare. One of the reasons I like the smaller tank bag is that I can squeeze it into the top of a pannier, or the top box itself. When I was on the long trips I left the helmet on the bike unsecured; there is a connection point under the seats for a helmet but it would be a hassle to get to with the dry bag secured on the pillion. At night I brought the helmet into the room with me.
18. The fluids were never an issue. I carried a spare quart of oil just in case; but I never needed it. Same with the rear drive, the brakes, the coolant system fluids…all were fine, never needed attention.
19. The bike never overheated and I was in some 100+ degrees (Nor Cal, Las Vegas, etc.). During stop and go in hot weather, I can feel some heat if, at a stop, my leg placement is very close to the bike. Underway I never noticed any heat discomfort from the engine.
20. The service intervals are reasonable but the cost is high. I had the 15,000 mile service done at Foothills Triumph in Denver (a great great dealer). It was about $1500, maybe a little less. More recently I had the valves checked at 30,000 miles at a cost of $500 to find out they were fine (let’s hope). I don’t know, but maybe they have to disassemble the entire bike to get at the valves to check.
21. The bike has 3 electrical outlets for electronics, but only one is handy. The one in front of the handle bar has so little room that it takes the special 12 v Europe style plug and it’s a tight fit behind the handlebar (I blew a fuse one time because I skewed an insertion). Another one is a USB underneath the pillion which is nice to have but I’ve never used it. The 12 v plug is on the outside underneath the pillion on the port side of the bike. I’ve mostly used this one to run a long USB cord to my iPhone in my shirt pocket. It’s a little messy as one has to unplug a cord draped around one’s waist and replug each time getting off and on, but it works, and I never ran out of power.
22. Now let me come to the biggest challenge of the Triumph. It’s huge, heavy, and top-heavy. I’m big enough that I can flat foot it, but not so big that I can just swing my leg over; so I have to grab the bottom of my riding pants and lift my right leg over the seat, and do the reverse to get off. (This is not how I remember the Steve McQueen scenes). But the bigger problem is the drops and falls. Here’s an admission: I had two drops (one in my garage before I even got under way), and three falls (bike and me, eating dirt). The drops are the bike’s fault (ok, not really); it’s tall with much of the weight high high high…if it angles over a little it will drop quicker than a drunk after a quart of liquor. As to the falls, for one of them I was innocent but not vigilant. I had stopped on a pretty busy two lane road that did not have a nicely inclined parking surface. While I was straddling the bike trying to figure out how to get into a rain suit a huge truck roared by and the next thing I knew I was rolling down an embankment. The other two were low speed turns, one into a parking spot, one out of a gas station, where (apparently) I hit the front brake while the handlebar was turned. You do this on the 1200 and you’re coming face to face with asphalt. And, regardless of how the bike got ‘down,’ it ain’t coming up by will power. In every case, both the drop and the falls, I needed help to get the bike up. I had packed a bottle jack with a setup that I had tested at home (on the garage drop) to prove that I could get it up in an absolute emergency in the middle of nowhere. But the jack was at the bottom of a pannier and it is quite a process to get it all to work. I took the bike unloaded to a truck weighing station and it measured 700 pounds, rounded to the 100 pounds (so it was at least 651 and not more than 749, probably closer to former). This was with empty panniers and a mostly full gas tank. I know there are youtube vids with tiny blond girls lifting Goldwings; I want to see them do it with a Triumph 1200, with that high triple cylinder configuration. And I owe a special thanks to you guys who helped me get my Triumph up. It was special that there were guys that saw my trouble and just pitched in. Two of us could, just barely, get it upright; three made it easy. I know there’s a superman out there who can do lift it butt against the seat with one leg, but for the rest of us, help is always welcome and sometimes essential. Thanks to all of you who helped me. Also thanks to Triumph design because in all the drops and falls there were not scratches / gouges / dings on anything. The only damage I had was on that embankment fall where I broke the rightside mirror because the bike went over more than 90 degrees. (Here’s a tip: the Honda aftermarket mirror fits and works just fine; if you look carefully at the Alaska trip pictures you’ll see the early ones with two Triumph mirrors and the latter ones with the aftermarket one on the right side. BTW: a Triumph mirror costs about a million dollars, perhaps a little less). Oh, I also snapped off the end of the brake handle on that fall, the part that is designed to break off to prevent losing the entire handle. I was still able to use the brake lever fine so I was not stranded. (Replacing that lever also costs about a million dollars, or so it seemed; so if you add up the replacement mirror, handle, and two headlight bulbs…well, you’ve just about bought yourself a good used bike. I count this as tuition to learn the importance of vigilance.)

Bottom line:

If I knew then what I know now would I do then what I did then? Yes without question with respect to every aspect of the bike except for the size and weight and even then the answer would still be “yes.” It’s a magnificent machine. And it’s very cool too. I don’t disparage anyone’s ride–we all have different tastes, tasks, and budgets–but I think there’s something special about a Triumph. I had lots of people in gas stations and at restaurants sharing with me their various Triumph stories usually about the Triumph era preceding the current era. One memorable quote I heard about the old ones: “if there ain’t oil under it, there ain’t oil in it.” (I had no such issue: the bike didn’t use a drop of oil between service intervals).

It was trouble-free (except for the minor issues noted above), smooth, comfortable. I had considered the adventure standard bike, the “Long Way…” rides of the BMW 1200. The sound of that boxer engine is cool, I admit, but the vibration in the handles is not. I was very disappointed in the test ride of the Beemer as I thought that was going to be my bike. When I then test rode the Triumph it was dramatically different…extremely smooth. That was the big distinction for me. I considered the Triumph 800, and perhaps should have chosen it as it is somewhat lighter / smaller than the 1200 I bought. But, hey, when you’re as old as dirt, and ain’t gonna do this again, you go big.

I had a wonderful time with my Triumph 1200, as you can see if you follow (in particular) the 8 Corners / Alaska Adventure elsewhere on this site. Me and Nicodemus have bonded on these adventures. I have apologized to him for not always keeping his shinny side upright; I think he’s forgiven me because we’ve seen some landscape together and buddies just extend grace to one another. I just wish he’d ‘lighten up’ a little, as he no doubt wishes that on me.

Here’s a caution. The bike is so big and powerful (139 hp, I recall) that one can get in a heap of trouble. I’ve tried to be a very careful rider, partly because I’m not all that good at it, but largely because I don’t want to be the source of harm to anyone or anything else or even cause anyone to experience me hurting myself by my own mistakes. But if someone is inclined to test its limits, especially in off-track or off-road situations, I can visualize how something very bad could happen in a blink.

Next for me?

I am going to downsize my bike and try to keep biking into my 80’s, if possible. Balance issues compound when the bike is big and top heavy. Also reaction times diminish so going steady and (relatively) slow is the wise course. (And there’s no downside to this for me as I’m seeking to experience the world I pass through not the terror of flight).

Having recently been caught in the horrors of Atlanta interstate traffic in multiple traffic accidents (of others) in 90+F temperatures, absolutely stuck in a stop and go jam for hours, I’m longing for the DCT feature, which is one step above a scooter. The smallest Honda DCT is their NC 750x, which is really an urban commuter, but may be a good choice as it’s still a pretty hefty bike which my size does require but I think a liftable heavy with the weight positioned very low.

Another choice is the Royal Enfield Himalayan. It’s a single jug, 411 cc bike with 65 mph as the upper comfortable all day speed, which is plenty. Going up hills with gear on board may have some issues. And there’s no DCT or equivalent on it. Time will tell as to reliability.

There are trike bikes, and I have a trike pedal bike (Catrike–actually I’ve had three of them and still own two and they’ve been terrific). The Ural is very cool looking with a sidecar for seating a courageous soul; but they are really expensive and woefully underpowered. But it comes with a cool trunk and a serious looking shovel (it must be to convey its Russian military history). One of my Alaska encounters was with a man in Anchorage who had one shipped to Key West and spent half a lifetime motoring his way all the way home: 55 mph was about his all day max. There are some side car options for ‘regular’ bikes, perhaps such as my Triumph, but they are even more expensive and make for garaging nightmares. (The Ural has a cool reverse gear, and two wheel drive). I don’t know if a side car option works with a DCT bike such as the NC 750x; Honda, are you thinking such thoughts? (There is a large wave of old geezers whose body parts and functionalities are causing them to have such longings.) Finally, there are the true trike bikes, twin wheels in the back (Harleys) or twin in the front (CanAm); there may even be a Goldwing DCT aftermarket trike version. These are hugely expensive and huge in themselves. Somehow these strike me as too closely related to a four seat convertible, say an older Mercedes 320 CDI, which can be purchased in great condition for $5,000 or less. If one has the self control to keep the top down in everything but drenching rain, one can pretend one is Steve McQueen (or Chevy Chase) in very manageable comfort. One could always go for a Jeep without a top or doors, and with drop down windshield that removes even the possibility of wimping out in rain or cold. Still, there is just something about a bike carving a long curve in a tree-line canyon of a forest of pines. And there’s the special camaraderie of fellow bikers sharing ‘traveler’s tales’ at breakfast stops and the end of the day.

And, yes, at the very bottom of the ecological / evolutionary ladder is the scooter, or perhaps the Honda Super Cub 125. It takes a man of strong character to say to the world “I don’t care that I look like a huge dork on a small bike, it’s how I roll 45 at 85.” (I just don’t think I can do it.)