---the Wayfarer falls for women again by the roadside

"…it’s certain, that if this world be a great book, as S. Augustine calls it, none study this great Book so much as the Traveler. They that never stir from home, read only one page of this Book…"
---Richard Lassels
(English travel writer in the preface of his 1670 book, The Voyage of Italy.)

Spend enough time on a motorcycle and you discover something unexpected. Your machine is a conversation starter. It isn't a magic charm, and it certainly doesn't replace personality, but it has a remarkable way of breaking the ice. Ride every day, stop for coffee, fuel up, wander into diners, and you'll meet people you would never have crossed paths with otherwise.

It does not matter if you have a HOG, a Honda or a Vespa or even a moped or its ugly bastard brother called an Electric Motorcycle. They will get people talking. (Electric two-wheeler brand name withheld for cancel-culture—I wish to cancel EV so don’t wanna drop brand names for you to consider.)

One of the great pleasures of motorcycle life is the people you meet are often adventurous by nature. Many women who are drawn into motorcycle conversations aren't impressed by horsepower or chrome alone. They're interested in stories. Where are you headed? How far have you ridden? What's the best road you've ever found? Did you meet anyone you fondly remember? The motorcycle simply opens the door or two if you are the lucky kind.

Daily riders know that every gas station is a social club waiting to happen. A stranger asks what year your bike is. Someone shares a story about learning to ride. Another remembers their father's old Triumph or their mother's Vespa. Before long, you're swapping travel tips with complete strangers who suddenly don't feel like strangers anymore.

You as a motorcyclist are more approachable—because where you gonna look but at the person standing near you—you are exposed—not inside a car-like cage. You are either lucky most days or screwed the wrong way when an absolute fool walks up and starts running their ideas of what you should customize into your. Maybe laminate the gas tank for protection they might say.

Then there are the roadside diners. Pull up with dusty boots and a helmet under your arm, and conversations seem to arrive with the coffee. Waitresses, fellow diners, truck drivers (your lucky self probably met a female trucker, didn’t ya), retirees, and students -- especially those jocks who turn dorky when they talk to a hardcore biker. Well, everyone has a motorcycle story! The atmosphere is friendly because motorcycles still carry a sense of freedom that people instinctively recognize and many lack in their compromised life called a lifestyle.

Of course, the most memorable encounters often happen with women who embrace adventure themselves. They're hikers, travelers, musicians, photographers, artists, surfers, graduate students going home or to Hollywood, entrepreneurs known primarily as ‘salesmen’ to normal folks, or simply people who refuse to spend every weekend indoors.

They aren't attracted to motorcycles because they're flashy; they're attracted to experiences. Many already understand that life's best memories rarely begin by staying home.

Even hitchhikers—where legal and safe to pick up—have traditionally been part of motorcycle folklore. Every shared mile becomes a story. Some conversations last ten minutes. Others become lifelong friendships after only exchanging a phone number to catch up later.

The common thread isn't always romance; it's the willingness to share the road and enjoy an unexpected encounter.

You are also a community worker by default. As I mentioned, motorcycles flatten social barriers. Cars, old or new, expensive or ‘run-of-the-mall’, can sometimes create distance. A motorcycle often does the opposite. Riders appear approachable. You're exposed to the weather, the smells of the city, the changing seasons and the same traffic everyone else experiences. People see a human being rather than someone sealed behind tinted glass and the doubt that tin-tint-veil generates.

Bars near scenic roads develop their own motorcycle culture as well. Some convert into a Roadhouse or a travel center due to the nature of business. Riders gather after a day's journey, comparing routes instead of résumés. Conversations move naturally between travel, music, food, books, careers, and dreams. New friendships form because everyone already shares one important value of enjoying getting out into the world, pursuing their ambitions and visions, and to make the most of ‘now’ rather than when they save enough or after kids are in college or when they retire.

So the real attraction isn't the motorcycle itself. It's the lifestyle it encourages. Riding daily makes you more visible, more approachable, more fit than a car driver and more willing to stop and engage with people. You are also more likely to be handy with your hands so don’t mind if they ask for help or tips more often than you care to contribute—and you will help more often than not—you know the pain of being stranded without a roof, without a cage and air-conditioning.

Confidence grows naturally—theirs and yours—not from showing off, but from accumulating experiences and stories worth telling; worth remembering.

If motorcycles have a secret superpower, it's this—they don't merely transport you across miles. They transport you into conversations, communities, and unexpected friendships. The road becomes a place where people from every background cross paths, share a laugh, exchange stories, breakdown the prejudice or stereotypes, and occasionally discover that the next great adventure begins with a simple, "Nice bike. Where are you headed?"

What are you waiting for? Grab a subscription of Easyriders and get native!

P.S. And yes, yes, I have checked, Mark Twain never said anything connecting a book to travelling. It's social media junk. BTW, I saw Elvis Presley alive and well, playing pickleball in Tampa, Florida and he was indeed The King, the real Elvis Presley. You can believe otherwise. I know what I saw and heard and drank.

* * * * THE END * * * *
Story from Wayfarer@Bikernet.com

IMAGES from Sam Burnns