It is 2025, and by now, I’ve spent the better part of my life swapping handlebars and keyboards. Steering wheels, too, but that’s a different matter. I like to think I am the most honest version of myself when I write about motorcycles. Having determined eyes scanning the road is obviously a superior experience to unfocused eyes pointed at a screen — but not by much. In fact, whenever I am riding, I am also looking forward to writing about it. As much as I love the intensity of the act of riding a motorcycle, I also equally cherish the spaced-out eagerness of putting it all down into words. For me, at least, these are the two sides of the motorcycling coin.
So what do I think about when I think about writing bikes? Mostly nothing, and I think that’s the best thing, too. Over the years, people have asked me how I can write about the same thing — motorcycles — over and over again. As you can imagine, these people have little to do with motorcycles other than being vaguely aware of their existence. Each motorcycle is a different story to be told, and if you’re invested enough in the topic, you run no risk of sounding like a broken record. Until I actually sit down to write, I have no idea what I’m about to write. And, as I said earlier, out of the nothing that I think come the words, almost as if by magic, as if I’m receiving the words from another dimension. After that, it’s mostly hope, hope that it’ll be readable enough.
As time has gone by, I’ve come to think of myself less as a motorcycle tester and more as a motorcycle writer. Of course, both functions overlap, so there’s no clear boundary; both require a deep connection with the motorcycle and the ability to feel what’s happening between the front and rear axles. But testers generally tend to be a bit authoritative, and that’s a bit of a problem when it comes to things as subjective as motorcycles. Writing, in that sense, is a whole lot more inclusive; you’re not out to pass judgement, merely to observe and communicate your feelings. And that opens up a whole new world. It also opens up your mind.
If by now I sound self-indulgent, I promise you I am not. I’m just indulging in the act of writing about writing about motorcycles. And as easy it is to write about motorcycles, it’s not easy writing about writing about motorcycles. The last couple of sentences should tell you how much of a hard time I’m having. It’s because it forces me to look inside in the hope of finding something that might be worth reading, a little nugget that I myself didn’t know existed and which turns out to be the source of all inspiration. But no such luck. I’ll keep looking.
For those looking to write about motorcycles, unfortunately I have little advice of any consequence. Funny thing for me to say? Maybe, maybe not. But the best writers in the world say that the only thing you need to write better is to read more. Extending that to motorcycles, I suppose it’s only logical that to write better about bikes, you must ride and read more. If there is one thing I can say with conviction, it’s that you must make the subject your own. And the only way to do that is to give it everything you have. And that’s the rewarding thing about motorcycles. They enable you to fill pages upon pages, even though you had no idea what to write about and were staring blankly at an empty white screen. I just confirmed that.
