I have a couple of Iron Butt rides under my belt, including my raid to Binghamton, New York, in 35 hours last freezing cold October. My Bonneville and I cruised the Catskills immediately after I finished the timed ride, enjoying hills and curves and twisties. Then I finally got to see the famed Hudson River, riding it's banks on my trusty Bonneville. What a bike, it does it all for me. Some people need to own lots of bikes, one to tour, one to ride fast, one for the dirt, one for around town. My Bonneville is an even bigger bargain when you consider that like it's forebears it does everything adequately. I would ride to California tomorrow if I had the time (and it were summer, let's face it).
I hope this Spring I will get another Iron Butt ride under my belt some weekend that I have off. This summer my wife says I can go back up North and see Jack riepe my riding dominatrix who wears a leather skirt and cracks a whip the length of Pennsylvania. In the meantime we buzz back and forth on Highway One my Bonneville and I racking up the miles and not wishing for more horsepower or new paint jobs or any new shopping stimulation. Some people think there isn't much to see in the lower Florida Keys and they may be right. I managed to put thirty miles on my bike with no effort in the hour before darkness and I scrapped a planned tour of No Name Key and north Big Pine because we simply ran out of daylight and I wanted to go home and cuddle my dog.
Consume away folks, this is all I need, a carburetted, rusty, well worn Bonneville and a road, any old road will do, to ride it on. Hell this bike even copes quite nicely with gravel, a useful trait as money is running out for public spirited endeavors such as street repairs and highway paving.
And here I am, home sweet home, hidden by trees, off street parking under the house, the promise of more sunshine tomorrow.
My mother bought me a Vespa 50 forty years ago, in the summer of 1970 or thereabouts and motorcycles have made the long drudgery of daily driving an adventure to be enjoyed ever since. No cell phones, no music, no satellite positioning whether I want to be found or not. Not safe, not pigeon holed, not doing as I am told as an obedient consumer. Not high visibility, not drunk, not stoned, not texting. The ride is the reward for me. Keep your 2011 models, your "upgrades" and your monthly payments. A lot of talk I hear about freedom these days has got nothing on simply riding my Bonneville. Long may it last.