Three Guys. One Motorcycle.

900 miles roundtrip and a Suzuki V-Strom 650. That’s a TL;DR for this trip.

But it would be a shame not talking about Bear Mountain, Manhattan, and of course our wonderful hosts for that eventful weekend. So guess what text will follow below.

Yes. Let’s get into it.

___________________

A listing on ADVRider and a conversation in Polish lead the three of us on a toll-free crusade towards Putnam, NY where a Suzuki V-Strom was due for Maximillian’s ownership.

As an alkaline trio, our weekends usually consisted of brazen cold rides and controversial purchases. “Living life to its fullest” we pridefully say. “Being stupid” parental figures respond otherwise.

At a bickering’s conclusion, opinions are futile and experiences are worthwhile. That’s a rhyme by the way.

Shenanigans

Bear Mountain in NY greeted us with staggering views and cast aside our five-hour fatigue. A complimentary treat for a previously thought cut-and-paste trip. This treat preluded our weekend to come.

A mountain of bears

After a conversation with a “Bill” and his experiences lane-splitting through NYC (police aren’t worth pulling over for, apparently) on an EX500 and dodging Harley cupholders on the mountain, we said goodbye to complete the remaining 15 minutes to Peter’s house.

This guy named Bill

A black DL650 spawned as we turned left onto I-don’t-remember-the-name street. Peter greeted us with a manshake and a warm conversation in Polish precipitated between the respective parties. A couple translations and a few hearty laughs were had. Two kicks to the front wheel aligned handlebars for a sale.

Le Suzuki of Interest

Now 3:30 and some change PM, our discussion concerned the 5+ hour journey back to Middletown.

It’s going to be cold.

You’re going to be tired.

Pennsylvania is weird at night.

Then Peter affirmed to be the gentlemen he portrayed to be; an offer to crash at his place for the night. A small nap would circumvent relentless weather conditions. So we took up on the offer.

But not before eating greasy pizzas for dinner and a mandatory trip to Manhattan.

Max briefly caught up with Jeremy, an old friend from University, and told us of his travels post UMD. California, Thailand, fevers, and now Brooklyn. The tales sent shivers up my spine, reinforcing the excitement of our trip so far.

The city

Sleep was good. Nothing poked me from behind. We dodged a below-freezing ride home.

And we got to play with “COPPPPERRRR” the golden retriever.

Morning brought a delicious breakfast of toasted bread with turkey ham over melted cheddar cheese.

Phew — sorry had a moment. That food was good.

The two-hour conversation that ensued about motorcycles left a reverent impression of our hosts. Not only were the husband and wife enthusiasts, but splendid people.

Mehman Nawazi. Miły. Cordial. And now friends.

Now a “PO,” Peter shared shoulders with Max and took one last picture with the DL. Its L-Twin cleared its throat then the two parties exchanged heartwarming goodbyes.

Time to go home.

The new O and the old PO

Two hours into our hajj towards home we took a short break in NJ. The Vstrom was proving to be a great highway hero compared to Max’s DR650 and DRZ400SM. The winter weather and sight of a motorcycle covering distance attracted photos of impressed BMW passengers. A feeling of badassery. Maybe, inspiration too.

"Does it make nice noises?"

The caravan

"Looks like a motorcycle...It probably is a motorcycle"

An X amount of minutes later, Max opted to check his tire pressure. It became an opportunity for Dave and I to purchase skittles and starbursts — to accelerate the decay of tooth enamel. We began to realize how long of a trip this truly was. And that the hospitality of Peter and his wife was a blessing for us. Regardless, we were men on a mission.

Taste crack - aka the rainbow

Giggling because I can

A marked a well-needed lunch break for Max. We had been on the road for six hours at this point. Fatigue was setting in and so was the cold weather. However, we were only two hours away. Finishing the last 95 or so miles was plausible.

"So dude, you don't eat the crust first?"

Helmet of champions

Wanna slice? Sucks bro, you ain't having it

Men.

A tender moment, mmm...

Usually where we see Max

Eventually the night had set in and our stamina was wearing thin. The sun’s retreat dropped temperatures below freezing prompting another layer for Korzan. Only an hour left though. A straight shot home for 50 miles, but probably an eternity on the bike due to cold weather.

Stranger in the night

Pit in

"Bruh I'm getting cold just watching you ride"

Destination: Sal's House

9/10 would not do again. Well, minus Max of course.

But 10/10 would agree that the bagels and fried eggs were a satisfying reward.

Cheers lads. We made it.

We made it. It was long and hard, like other things, but we had a V-Strom.

Earl Grey tea funded our conversations about a fantastic weekend and cross-country trips. And on that promising note, Max and Dave departed for the last leg to Silver Spring.

And I called it a night.

______________________

What started out as friendships over Mazdas and an MR2 kindled into a brotherhood over a passion for bikes. Motorcycles provide stories that four wheels simply don’t.Experiences you’ll tell your kids and grandkids. Ones that make you outgoing. Meet beautiful people. Respect customs. And develop a stubborn persistence.

I’ll always remember this.