It’s 12:18 AM, and we’re currently 502 miles in on a 1500 mile trip to who knows where, with who knows who for a full weekend of who knows what. Now you might ask; how did you get yourselves into this predicament? Well, we might answer. Let’s unravel...
So there we were, minding our business, trying to figure out how to make our brand-used ‘91 Harley Davidson XL883 Sportster great again, when we felt that buzz in our pocket. It was a text message. This was no ordinary “boss texting to ask if you’ll work another Saturday” or your mom asking “why you didn’t have your helmet on in your Instagram story” kind of text... no, this text was different. A video message, black distressed background with nothing but a date, a set of mysterious coordinates, the words “no rules” and a flashing “ByoBikes, ByoBabes, ByoBoobs and ByoBeer” followed by the equally mysterious “Brought to you by some people you know.“
If you follow the brand even remotely closely, you know we were 112% in by the time we read the word “rules.” We had planned on making the famed “Motos in Moab” we’d heard so much about from prior years, but were told that it was cancelled due to some love lost with some bummer toting fun-haters.
All that to say, our sadly open calendars turned into booked all weekend with the promise of nothing but the chance of everything we live for. Friends, fun, and life on motorcycles with like minded individuals who share our enthusiasm for all of the above. That text made our day, it made our plans and it made us forget about fixing up “The black bean 883” until after we broke it at aforementioned mystery trip. The stoke was real.
So, we did what any semi-respectable group of highway heathen hipsters would do, we shared it on Instagram with all the necessary hashtags for maximum hipster-points. . (Instagram is an online photo sharing app for hipsters.) (A hipster is something we’re still trying to identify, but we’ve heard from Facebook comments that we exemplify the traits of which, so we’re going with it.)
Once we responsibly fulfilled our hipster obligations, we tackled the less important pieces of such a road trippin’ adventure. We changed fluids in over-ridden, under-loved motorcycles, added tie down hooks to the Vana White, AKA the sketchiest van of all time and removed the seat so we could bring our motorcycles and a bed on wheels to this mysterious middle of nowhere mayhem.
That’s all history by now. Now we’re 527 miles in on this #ByoCampout and we can’t help but wonder; what in the everlovin’ heck are we headed towards? Will it be a hot, smelly, uneventful and underwhelming affair we drove a gazillion miles through the night to attend? Will it be the start of something new or a one time shindig? Will we look back at the end of our days and tell our grandkids about that year we packed up the baby’s and grabbed the old lady’s and headed out to the promised land for a couple nights of unforgettable Mischief, Mayhem and Motorcycles?
Well, we believe the risk is well worth the potential of the reward. We aren’t the type to turn down an adventure and we certainly aren’t hard to please. It’s got all the right ingredients for an all-time experience. Good people, camping, lack of rules, old friends and new old friends, and finally, motorcycles. The great two-wheeled freedom machine we’ve found as a literal and metaphysical escape from the ordinary. We know which outcome our bets are placed, but we’ll let ya know.
There’s magic in the mystery. Take more chances on good times, folks. Trust us, you won’t regret it.