Somehow I knew I'd like riding even before I bought a bike. Just something about being on the open road. Maybe it was those long camping trips to Canada during my youth. Or hooking up the boat and traveling miles while watching the sun rise. The adventure has always intrigued me as much as the destination. It's the anticipation. I guess that's also why I like fishing. And drawing. And taking photographs. Anything where the process is as important as the product. Maybe that's why I'm a designer. Maybe that's why so many of the "designed things" I love somehow reveal how they were made. That's probably why I like this bike. I know it's just a late-model Sportster. While some enthusiasts will appreciate the fact that it's the last of the carbureted bikes, others will bemoan that the motor is rubber-mounted. (These are things I learned after I bought it, of course.) Before, I just dreamed about riding. After, I learned that riding is also just a part of the motorcycle journey. Tinkering in the garage while the kids play with their toys. Replacing parts. Cursing when something that's supposed to fit doesn't. Starting it up and just going vroom vroom. I still like being on the road, of course, but I've learned to enjoy the process of getting on the road too. One thing I'm not so enthusiastic about? That 883 typography on the side of the stock air intake. What the hell is that set in, Serpentine? I knew from the moment I bought my first motorcycle — if I was ever going to get on the road, that was the first thing that had to go.