Riding my Moto Morini is a feeling I wish I could bottle and save for the future. Seeing the world around you flash bye, the sound and feeling of the engine below you, the rolling of the throttle, and shifting gears as you pull in the clutch, are heavenly. What happened to me the other day while riding my Moto Morini, put a lot into perspective for me as a motorcyclist. I have driven cars before that have broken down. Had a few flat tires. All of which makes me say, “now what?”. I even had the wonderful experience of driving my old Nissan Cube with my mother as passenger when it broke down while my mom said, “Rolf, you need a new car”. But breaking down on my Moto Morini motorcycle after work on a lovely Thursday afternoon, got me thinking about my survival as a motorcyclist. As helpless as you are when your car breaks down, it is even more earth shattering to break down on a motorcycle. My time spent standing in the James Island VFW parking lot, while I tried to understand what was wrong with my Moto Morini, drinking bottled water from the Circle K, I knew I had reached a new experience as a motorcyclist. So, what to do?

Lucky for me, the afternoon rush hour had not started building up, so Camp Road was fairly welcoming. I fiddled with a few parts to the engine thinking I was a roadside mechanic, which made me quickly realize how little I know about motorcycles. I turned the ignition key to the on position, and pushed the electric starter button, and instantly my Moto Morini came to life. But as quickly as my bike roared to life, the sooner my bike started to give out again. “Nope!”, I said to myself, and turned the bike off. I was not going to take the chance and ride this Moto Morini home. I walked to the edge of Camp Road and stared down the 1.5-mile road to Farmington Road, the street that takes me to my home. “Fuck it! I am going to push this bitch!” I said to myself. My only experience pushing my Moto Morini in the driveway, never a long distance. Given the situation, it was time to make radical decisions.

Looking back, I knew I was in for trouble when I came to a stop at Jenkins and Spruill Avenues. All of sudden my motorcycle wouldn’t rev down. Meaning, the rpms were very high when I came to a stop. “What the heck is going on?” I said to myself. Unsure as what to do, I decide to keep riding and hope my bike would figure itself out. Wrong! Riding through downtown Charleston on my way to James Island, my poor bike was suffering. Revving high at stop lights, having a hard time when I shifted gears, and overall creating a sense that I might not make it home. As soon as I got to the stoplight at Camp and Folly Roads, I knew I had reached the end of my ride. The engine was giving out, my wits were fried, and lucky for me I was close to home.

Two hands on the handlebar, feet parked on the left side of the motorbike, I started my journey home pushing my Moto Morini. I soon realized, that surviving as motorcyclist, is about adapting to situations. You make the best effort to control the situation but sometimes shit goes bad. My situation could have been a whole lot worst. I am thankful I was only a mile from my home street on James Island. But as I was pushing my motorcycle home, I kept thinking, is this motorcycling hobby/outlet worth it? Am I actually enjoying my new adventures on my Moto Morini? And in short, I am. Even pushing my motorbike home over a mile, next to a busy road, allowed to think how irrational motorcycling is. How it is such an oddity to ride a motorcycle in today’s times with all the safety features that 4-wheels provide. Why would anyone want to ride a 2-wheeled death wish. And honestly, I can’t sum up why I ride a motorcycle, and why I will continue to ride a motorcycle. But I will say that the whole time I was pushing my bike home, with sweat dripping down my face, a Circle K water bottle stuck in my rear jean pocket, that all I could do was think about my next ride, and how I was going to enjoy it even more.

Rolf