the motorbike philosophy

A tourist is an individual who, while visiting a country, goes on tours. We are not tourists, not intentionally. We are istors- we make our own trips. 

The motorbike philosophy is this:.

There is no superior way to experience an unknown place. You are exposed to the world, vulnerable to the road, consuming every possible piece of stimuli. The way your body physically interacts with the landscape is unparalleled. You are forced to meet with people you would otherwise have no business meshing with. You eat the food that no tour bus stops at. You hear things you never would with the radio on. You smell things you wouldn't if you had worn a seatbelt. Even as I wrote this there were 18 curious eyeballs watching my pen dance as Gus got his bike fixed. This wouldn't happen any other way.

You depend on your machine the way the fisherman 100 yards away depends on his net. You depend on the people around you who understand at best 10% of what you're trying to communicate. 

Alls I see all day long is bikes and beauty. There is nothing like riding on a motorcycle, nothing so free yet connected. In a car you cannot see the sky, smell the forest, taste the wind, feel the engine's heat, hear the gravel scuttle beneath you. 

And then you put the helmet visor up so that others can see the eye formation evolution gave you. That's when you hear the hello's moving from the front of your ear range to the back at 70km/hour. The children scream it at you in disjointed unison as you fly by. They probably spent a good portion of their day learning that language. 

"They probably talk about us for hours after we leave."

 And still the condition of my helmet gets progressively worse like the exhaust pipe burn marks on my calves. And still I can't remember to not cauterize my damn legs on the metal. 

Your transportational thought process evolves. I used to think it was funny to see a chicken cross the road. Haha, you know, just like the joke. Now I think; god damnit another chicken is crossing the road.

It takes me 5 minutes to go past a 2.5 mile stretch. On that very segment of road a person is born, they learn about life there, they have children, raise them, watch them grow there, they themselves die at kilometer marker 165.  You must respect that. You must treat every scrap of pavement  as if it were you living your entire life there. Only then can you appreciate it.



So typically when i write i am about two weeks ahead of the time i am writing about. its taken me a while to catch up. im currently in Laos and had to share this- im sorry i couldnt wait. we went swimming at this lagoon yesterday. this was the scene.