The most profound experience in riding while cutting through open road is being in the scenery, not viewing it from within an encased hunk of metal and plastic. And though innately we feel a connection to these roads less traveled it’s important to remember we are guests of these places – wherever that may be for you. Native we are not.

Let’s call it like it is, bikers don’t exactly roll through town in an unobtrusive and inconspicuous fashion. And that’s fine, in fact I’m damn well proud of it! And though I generalize here, many of us test the limits of just about everything. But, remember – do or say anything you want, just understand the implications.

When I’m on the road, each time I gain a new found respect for my surroundings. Not for city life, pop-culture or modernity (unless we’re talking about things like fuel-injection technology that allow me to go farther, faster and more reliably). I’m talking about rolling hills, weathered barns, grown in roads, small towns, the people that make those small towns America and the others like me.

But, just behind the veil, if you pay close enough attention is a reality that is delicate yet cold and hard. Some of my more benign yet humbling experiences have been – highway riding through a severe thunderstorm in PA with near misses on multiple vehicle pile ups then making the wise decision to hunker down under an overpass, testing a massive bull’s patience out in Fredericksburg, TX while separated by just a few thin barbed wires then to have a friend get a rock in the head at 70 mph and nearly pass out (no helmet).

These experiences may be vastly different for you, but the message is all the same. Stir up the dust and you’ll find out what’s underneath, so sometimes we need to respect things in their natural state and enjoy them for what they are.