#EvansOffCamber

For the past week, I’ve been thinking about the reaction to our selection of the 2015 Motorcycle of the Year, or more accurately, the reaction from some readers to our selection of the Indian Scout as the recipient of the MOTY. You’d think that, after so many years in the moto-press, I’d be immune to the vitriol spewed online by people who don’t agree with a choice or statement or evaluation I’ve made. For some reason, however, being accused of accepting bribes in exchange for the MOTY chapped me, where normally I’d laugh off this kind of dreck. Maybe it was because I was the one who initially suggested the Scout was the best choice for the award.

When we first decide to buy a motorcycle and start riding, we think the whole experience will be what happens out on the road – the wind in the hair, bugs in the teeth, freedom and individuality and living in the moment and all that clichéd stuff about riding that is totally true and an essential part of the riding experience.

My recent purchase of a new Toyota Tacoma (not merely “new to me” and certainly not a just-on-the-cusp-of-being-a-beater-at-the-time-of-purchase like all my previous trucks) got me noodling about the importance of enthusiasts. While researching my purchase, I haunted the forums of the models I was considering, and before the ink was fully dry on the contract to siphon money from my bank account for the foreseeable future (and beyond), I was on several Tacoma sites seeking information and links to items that would make my truck better at the bike hauling duties for which it was being conscripted. In addition to finding the information I sought, I was reminded, again, about the importance of enthusiasts to niche activities.

The myth of the American open road permeates our culture as thoroughly as gun worship and our cowboy history of conquest by might equals right. The idea posits that every American man* can remake himself by packing up his troubles and setting out on the road towards a distant horizon to discover what awaits for him in the remainder of that infinitesimal slice of eternity making up each of our lives. Lest you think I’m disputing this, I’m as susceptible to the myth as anyone. After all, as I’ve written before, I came to motorcycling through a months-long cross country trip to escape an unpleasant situation.

We have met the enemy and he is us – Pogo

Motorcycle gear has several important functions. While maybe not the primary purpose of dedicated riding gear, our chosen wardrobe tells the world that we are motorcyclists. Yes, there is a large fashion component to our apparel, one that announces what tribe we claim. From canyon carvers to stunters to cruisers to tourers and adventure tourers to street racers or vintage riders to even the one-percenters (of the pre Occupy Wall Street variety), every subculture within the motorcycle world has its own uniform. And if we’re really honest with ourselves, who among us hasn’t at least once pulled up to a stop light, noticed our reflection in the storefront window, and thought, “Yep, I look pretty damn cool.”