Celebrating a Two-Year Motorcycle Anniversary
Posted on April 10, 2017
By Paris Wolfe, Foodie/Traveler
Traveling the United States in an RV has been a “plantasy” – plan plus fantasy – of mine since childhood. So, in January 2015 Gary and I decided to research the idea at the RV show at the IX center. There we walked through a toyhauler – basically an RV with a “garage” for hauling horsepower.
Offhandedly, or so I thought, he said it would be great to take along a motorcycle. As we were simply fantasizing, I didn’t think much of it.
But, the idea was rooting. Two months later he was clicking through online ads. By April 2015 we owned a motorcycle, helmets, a blue-tooth communication system and black, nylon armor jackets.
At this point, I hadn’t been a passenger for about eight years and then it was merely a quick spin on my uncle’s vintage blue Harley-Davidson. Gary had done plenty of two-wheel time in the Army. This was natural for him.
Within a month I was smitten … the motorcycle was my Zen. I was one with the environment. I could see, smell, hear, feel and, yes, sometimes, taste everything while riding. It was totally unlike a caged experience.
Nearly every day that we could, we fastened our helmets, turned on the communication system and rode. We flew. Time flew.
We rode to Katie’s Korner in Geneva-on-the-Lake or Scooter’s in Mentor-on-the-Lake for ice cream. We took backroads for an hour to grocery shop at Wegman’s in Erie, Pa. We took field trips to the Homer Laughlin factory in West Virginia to buy Fiestaware and to Niagara Falls to see the water. It was usually about the journey, not the destination.
When we visited his daughter in San Diego, we spent a day traveling each south, east and north. In 2016, we put more than 10,000 miles on our bottoms driving the Blue Ridge Parkway, Pennsylvania’s Laurel Highlands and Alabama/Florida Panhandle, not to mention regular outings.
We’ve been drenched by rain and gotten sunburned noses. No complaints. The worst experience, knock on wood, was a painful bee sting which has left a scar.
While I knew I’d be happy in black leather, I had no idea how much flow I’d feel on the back of the bike. Next up, the RV!