Adventure of a Lifetime – Guest Post

Adventure of a Lifetime – The First Leg
by Henry Yampolsky, Philadelphia

Zipping up my Rev’it Sand jacket and lowering my Shoei’s visor was the cue for the butterflies in my stomach to begin to flutter. I was about to begin an adventure of a lifetime!

As I maneuvered my Vulcan down my sloped driveway, I went exactly where I was looking. “Someone has to resurface this blacktop” I thought, as I closely examined its surface. With my 500 lb machine on its side and my pride about to make a hasty retreat below and behind my belt line, my adventure seemed to have been ending right at the starting line. However, as my pride was the only thing hurting, my mood lightened – Congratulations! You’ve just joined the ‘I dropped my bike’ club. After the first drop I HAD to at least make it out on the street!

There were two other drops that day. One at a stop sign when I did not get a chance to put my foot down as the bike stopped and the other one as I was trying to hold it up on a small hill. As I was struggling to pick up my machine after the last drop of the day, a rider on an older F650 Dakar appeared seemingly out of nowhere. He stopped and with a few reassuring words and a friendly smile helped me to get on my way. Of course, we talked. It turned out Mikhail lived in my development. He was from Germany and his wife was from my homeland – Ukraine.

That day, I rode through some gentle twisties. I marveled at a 100 year-old horse farm which I did not even know existed. I saw 70-style cookie-cutter split homes share space with magnificent 200-year-old stone structures. I smelled cut grass and blooming flowers, gasoline, fresh mulch and horse manure. As I rode through the streets with the names like Blue Bird, Barnswallow, Medow Lark and Blank Angus, I imagined myself being surrounded by sweeping meadows, green pastures, lush forests and abundant farm fields which once made up this suburban neighborhood. Most of the time I used my turn signals. I stalled the bike only once and got it up to third gear. I made all the turns I initiated and even grinned as I SLOWED, LOOKED, PRESSED AND ROLLED through the last curve.

And, I never left my neighborhood! At no time was I more than two miles from my home. Yet, I saw, heard, smelled and felt my surroundings in the way I had never done before. There were challenges and fears, and sometimes, all at once I felt excitement, frustration, pride, fatigue, an overwhelming sense of presence, deep gratitude and joy. Through my ride I learned something new about my neighborhood, my motorcycle, and most importantly, about myself. Did I mention, I also met a fellow rider who lived practically next door to me? This was no ordinary stroll through the streets I thought I knew so well. It was an adventure, a journey beyond my comfort zone and within myself.

Twelve miles and a little over an hour later (after some stops to smell the flowers and to closely examine the neighborhood’s asphalt!), I pulled back into my garage. As I thumbed off the kill switch and began to unstrap my gloves, I felt as though I just rode to my house from London …you know…the Long Way Round… This was the end of my very first motorcycle ride. This was the beginning of an adventure of a lifetime!

About the author: Henry Yampolsky is a new rider and writer who finds motorcycling to be an extension of his meditation.  When not riding, writing, meditating or contemplating doing one of the three, Henry spends time with his wife, Juliya, and works as a lawyer in Philadelphia.