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Saturday 3 September 2016

There is a Perfect Bike After All

I'm the first to admit, I tend to gravitate to the more oddball things in life. Things like running around a giant lake in Newfoundland covering 67 painful kilometres. Ok, running is a bit of stretch, more like jogging which turned to a death march. Then there is surfing......in Saint John........in the winter.





My odd ball tastes carry over to vehicles too, even though my driveway has two normal vehicles. Being a "family" guy has something to do with that. Otherwise I'd probably have an old Westfalia, an original MINI Cooper and a Sprinter van in the driveway instead. It's part of the reason the Guzzi is there. There might be three other ones in the city. Plus it's cool.






So as much as a BMW 1200GS or Honda Africa Twin would be awesome to have, and either one would be a good candidate for the "perfect" bike, my eye would continue to wander to the more eclectic things in life.



The Ruckus is kind of eclectic, it has a cult following, there are a lot of them around, which kind of goes against something being eclectic. It's just not a traditional looking scooter.



I came up with a list of must haves for "the" bike. The one I'd live with for a very long time.

Must be capable of riding on dirt roads.

Capable of cruising on secondary highways. Interstates are boring, and I'm not interested in riding on them. So 60mph is just fine.

It has to have character. I don't think I could live with something like a Honda NC750X. Not that there is anything wrong with it. The Guzzi has character.

Storage space. I need room to put all my shit somewhere, and I don't want to be buying saddlebags, top cases and tank bags. I know this is a stretch on a motorcycle.

Most of all it has to fun to ride. I mean if it's not fun, why do it. I use my bike to commute to work for  almost 8 months of the year. It's my kind of decompression after a busy day or shitty flight. Ya, it happens, like when the Marriott forgets the turndown service and you don't get the chocolates on the pillow, or the pub is out of Goose Island IPA.

The perfect bike for me is there and it is waiting for me, not sure when I will get it, or where. Bringing it home could be an adventure in itself.