Taking the Plunge: Why We Travel?

I’m always surprised at the amount of attention my well-used and abused BMW F800GS draws wherever I go. Although the bike stands out with its tall stance, ample battle scars and world traveler look, it’s not the bike that truly interests others—it’s the idea that this machine can carry a rider to places they’ve only dreamt of.

Everywhere I stop I’m asked where I’m going and where I’ve been. Luckily, my job permits ample travel on many different types of motorcycles, but it’s curious that I don’t get the same reaction when riding a Harley, Ducati or a sport touring rig… it’s the big adventure bikes that inspire dreams of travel. They’re the vessels that elicit visions of journeys beyond the borders of nations and beyond where the asphalt ends.

But something changed recently that seems to attract an entirely new set of questions than when my bike was a young steed with fresh paint and low miles. When the bike was new the questions were often about it, not my travels. But my steed is now at a stage where no matter how much I scrub it, it never quite looks clean and cannot hide its undeniable patina of travel.

I’ve also been living in a near homeless condition for almost a year. Most of the time I’m on the road for work and when “home” I stay with friends, family, in cheap hotels or even camp. I work at cutting every possible corner to purge personal debt and save enough funds for an extended journey through South America. Because of this, my bike is in constant “travel” mode and although I stay clean-shaven and well-groomed, there’s something that screams the unmistakable look of “traveler.”

I first noticed this shift in questioning about six months ago when a local tollbooth attendant asked me where I was from and where I was heading, expecting an answer to include international borders, not simply a visit to my doctor. Since then it’s been happening with increasing frequency: Middle-aged men driving minivans and practical commuters ask where I’ve been; old men talk about how they used to ride and the places they dreamed of traveling; and couples share their dreams of community travel.

“It is a curious emotion, this certain homesickness I have in mind… for we are torn between a nostalgia for the familiar and an urge for the foreign and strange. As often as not we are homesick most for the places we have never known.”—Carson McCullers

It’s almost a tradition amongst ADV overlanders to adorn their adventure bikes with stickers defining everywhere they’ve been. But some paint their bikes in stickers and adventurized parts, not in preparation for a planned trip but rather to emulate the look of an adventurer. I see this as the signature of those who dream of travel. The reality is that most of us are bound by life’s more domestic responsibilities, so we tend to “escape” by watching television, reading books, living through the adventures of others—and if lucky, a two-week adventure once a year. I spend my days motivating and arming ADV riders with the skills needed for travel, whether domestic or international, whether they’re planning for weekends or years on the road. In turn, many return with stories of grand adventures that leave me with new dreams of travel to faraway places.

Life often presents opportunities that can only be realized if we’re willing to take action and grab hold of them. For me, this happened when a sudden change in life unburdened children, marriage and property, only my job remained. Rather than longing for the past, I reached to the future. No longer do I choose to live through the adventures of others. I have no idea what the future will present, but at 43 years old I’m young enough to still tackle the challenges of what lies ahead. I’ve always known that dreams only come true if we take action—there will never be a perfect time to make the move, and there will always be unfinished business left behind.