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Let me be upfront with you. My introduction to motorcycles was not a safety course in a parking lot. There was no experienced rider walking me through clutch control on a closed course. There was no gear fitting at a dealership, no YouTube playlist, no patient friend on a newer bike riding alongside me at a reasonable pace. There was a rusted Honda 1982 XR200 with holes in the exhaust pipe, a pair of flip flops, and twenty miles of Peruvian jungle road between me and a dial-up internet cafe wher …

What I'd Pack Differently for a 10-Day ADV Trip There is a specific kind of regret that only happens on motorcycles. It is not dramatic. Nobody gets hurt. It is quieter than that. It is the moment you are standing on the side of a road in a foreign country, staring at a problem you could have prevented, doing the math on how much easier your life would be right now if past you had made one different decision. I have had that moment more than once. Vietnam gave me several of them in ten days. I r …