And, of course, finding at least part of the answer happened on the back of our Harley Davidson. Freedom, on a bike, can mean so many things. You are free to drive it anywhere. You are free to go at a speed you choose. You are free to go down narrow roads and not worry about being too heavy or a wide load. But you need gas (even if you do get good mileage). You need to stay within the speed limit. You have to worry about that truck that might come at you on that narrow road and have to figure out how to get off the road to let them pass. How is any of that freedom?
Freedom is vulnerable. On a bike, the rider (and passenger) has no doors, windows, seat belts, or air bags to protect themselves from any accident. What they have is themselves, their bike, the road, and hopefully a good set of leathers and a DOT helmet. You become amazed at how small you are, especially when a semi truck comes roaring by you or pulls up next to you at a stop light. Or even something as simple as driving down the highway and you're in the mountains (Kentucky, Tennessee, Virginia, West Virginia...) and they are so high around you that you feel as small as an ant in the universe. But somehow, you're there for a reason.
One of my favorite things about being on the bike is how it changed the way I notice and utilize my five senses (and six for those cars that don't seem to notice us until the last minute). As a driver, and even as passenger, you have to be fully present in the NOW. Is the road curving, do you have to lean a certain way, are there cars coming at me from any direction, how is the weather holding up, are there any bumps/pot holes/grooves/etc. on the road to watch out for? In a car you might notice a bad pot hole, and observe other vehicles, but you aren't as vulnerable as a bike. Cars can withstand bumps/etc. easier, don't have to worry about the weather outside unless it's a monsoon, and drivers don't have to move with the vehicle when it has to turn. Vision is the number one sense used. As a passenger, I am allowed a little leeway in what I have to look at. I do notice when to prepare myself for bumps, turns, stops, go-s, etc., but I also get to look at the scenery. Which is where the other senses really come in to play for me (only because I'm the passenger! I'm sure Shawn has his own thoughts as how it is driving, but I can't comment on something I don't know about:) ) It is just you, your eye protection, and sometimes a windshield if you have it on your bike. Everything is in vivid color, right there in front of you.
I get to hear so many different things I couldn't in a car. I can hear the crickets and frogs at night, dogs barking, horses and farm animals, I can hear the people outside the shops we are passing, I can hear the people at the auto shop shouting at us saying "nice!" as we drive by (shoutout to Rt. 48 Shop in TN!). I can hear the wind - which actually is fairly loud on the highway. Which in a way, is a good thing because the sound of the wind changes when a car is coming up and passing by, and even more so if it is a diesel or semi truck. Isn't that odd?
Not much can be said about taste. The occasional chapstick that might get on your taste buds, the small bug that flew in to your mouth at 50 miles an hour because you had to yawn, nothing super unique :) There is a taste of adventure though, because the world on the back of a bike is like nothing else.
Touch is another interesting sense to experience on a bike. The main things: wind, heat, and rain. Wind, either self created by going a certain speed, or mother nature's breath trying to push you on to the other side of the road, you can feel it. Sometimes, a breeze in any form is just what you need, especially to cool you off from the leather you are wearing. Heat is a by product of both where you are, and your exhaust. And boy, it is hot down here. In Dickson, TN today, it reached 93 without counting the humidity temperature. HOT. Especially when you're on a paved parking lot trying to get out on to the street, or stuck in traffic (Nashville, I'm looking at you on that 91 degree day) and you're sitting in the same place for ten minutes and the exhaust is next to your leg. Not only can you feel it heating up your leg, you can feel it creep up under your bum. Motorcycles were not made to sit still.
Smell. One of my favorites. You can smell everything. I mean everything. Skunks. Dead animals. Car exhaust. Asphalt & blacktop. But those are few and far between. Every ride, I can count on smelling the wild flowers. There's fresh cut grass. Farms. Greenhouses that we pass by. Construction-stage houses using the saw mill with the sawdust in the air. Bonfires (my favorite). Home cooking (especially bbq and baked goods). So many great things.
Through riding a motorcycle, you really understand the fragility of life. You appreciate your surroundings more as you are closer to it, figuratively and literally. You understand the need for safety. You become extremely mindful of your body, your surroundings, and your own thoughts. And as likeminded people, other bikers get together and form groups that have a common goal, like BACA. But as a rider, you are part of a much bigger family that encompasses all riders. Regardless of who you are, where you're from, or what kind of bike you have, you still are in that family. It's why bikers wave to each other as they go by. They know you have a respect for the road and yourself, and they acknowledge that, and find a similar outlook in themselves. Since we've started our journey outside of New York State, everywhere we go, bikers wave to us. And we wave back, because that's what family does. We've found a way to feel free for a little while. No bills, no phone calls to make, no dinner to cook, no worrying about the seal you have to replace on the toilet.
Just, you, the bike, and the road ahead of you.
