Motorcycle Diaries

Diary entry. Make that motorcycle diary entry. Because it was really just the one day and due to the rains we only rode for about 85 kilometers. Nevertheless, renting motorbikes in Leh, India infused us with visions of a multi-day, multi-week adventure across unknown lands: think Che Guevera's moto tour across South America, Ewan McGregor and Charley Boorman's documented 19,000+ mile journey from London to New York in "Long Way Round", Thelma and Louise on motorcycles. But without the death thing at the end, of course.

Never mind that we were motoring on baby 180cc Honda Pulsars, riding in our lightweight travel pants with helmets that fit like bobble heads. It was that feeling of free-wheeling freedom and adventure that whipped around us, riding through the streets of Leh, navigating the traffic of the city and the lines of a petrol station, getting out to open road winding through small villages with snow-capped peaks in the distance, past giant monasteries built into the curves of the mountains, waving at children walking along the side of the road, maneuvering around cows, stopping to explore, to hike, to take pictures.

We made it as far as the Hemis Monastery where preparations were underway for a festival the next day. But before we could explore any further, the rains opened up and we had to take refuge alongside a group of monks and a caravan of bikers coming from Manali on their way to Leh; a group of French men, all covered in riding leathers and grizzled, looking like they'd been on the road for days. Later, as we were heading back to Leh and they passed us one of them dropped a low hand wave our way. A motorcyclist's acknowledgement of another motorcyclist. The brotherhood. Kapow! So cool.

The way back was bliss; worthy of a Jose Gonzales soundtrack as we motored along beneath the mountains - we were more comfortable, more confident. The rains had dwindled and the air was cool and clean. I slowed down to high-five a group of school kids standing in line with their arms outstretched, taking in the scenery and life along the road.

Back in Leh, having returned the bikes, we were hopped up with wide-eyed energy and excitement. "That was the coolest thing ever!" "That was totally awesome!" "We need to plan a motorcycle journey!" "We TOTALLY need to plan an adventure." "You'd have to ride something bigger than a 180." "We'd get big girl bikes!" "Totally!" It was like apres ski after the sweetest day on skis ever. And much like apres ski, hours of smiles and laughter, a dozen recaps of the day and many beers later, we headed home to bed. Or to eat. I can't remember. On a little 180, on a rainy day, covering not a ton of ground, it was still one of the coolest things ever. It was hard to let the bike go. Harder still was returning to San Francisco all jazzed to ride my own motorcycle and finding it dead. Agh. Motorbike karma, where did you go?