How Motorcycles Saved the World

I didn’t tell anyone I was going. I simply left. The circumstances surrounding my “disappearance” were simple. It all started when my job kindly requested I didn’t show up anymore. Then seemingly out of the blue, my friends and family began to express concerns for their safety by just my mere presence. Even the local watering hole I’d often turn to when I had nowhere else to go started locking their doors and turning off the lights when I’d come around. How did I become so detached? Was my subconscious pushing for an opportunity to be distant from the rest of the world? Maybe my ubiquity would be better suited elsewhere.

I woke up that Tuesday and suddenly I didn’t feel anything anymore. Not a thing. I was neither fearful nor miserable nor hopeless, and the least concerned about how the rest of the world felt about me. Was I still even alive? You know how some people pinch themselves to see if they are still dreaming? Well, what is an even more significant test to ensure you still exist? Every human being, no matter how disconnected or dire their situation, needs a glimmer of hope and feeling of personal control. I knew only one thing, one experience that no matter how often I’ve experienced, it’s always made me feel alive.

As I rose from bed that morning, it felt like I was in a trance, like my legs were moving for me. It’s the weirdest feeling I’ve ever experienced. Almost mindlessly, I had walked through my living room, out the front door, and somehow ended up straddling my motorcycle, and as I clicked the starter, the familiar vibrations through my hands, arms, chest, and legs began to snap me back into the present. I could literally feel the cells in my body regenerating and the synapses in my brain firing.

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Getting on your two wheeled freedom machine is the ultimate form of social distancing and we've been using motorcycles as a societal escape pod long before COVID-19 ever escaped from a lab in Wuhan. When you're ready to burn rubber and trade your surgical mask and gloves in for a helmet and leathers, we'll be here to support your right to ride.


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It was still early in the morning, the air was dewy and crisp, and with no other soul on the street, the only sound in the entire world seemed to be generated from the rapid explosions cradled in the steal frame I was perched upon. I stopped at the end of my driveway; I looked left, and then looked right. At that moment, it dawned on me. I didn’t have the slightest idea where I was going. It didn’t matter because I was going, am going, still going, and to be honest at this point, I don’t know if I’m ever coming back.