Do you get bored sitting on back?" the German girl asked. Today is our first day driving, and we have just met our first motorcycle-riding partners - a German couple on two similar BMWs heading the same direction. Bored, are you kidding? I feel so much pent up excitement to begin this journey, that I could have sat on the back of that bike for 1200 kms without a break in my smile. This question held so much irony that day.
After 6 months of vacillating back and forth between the virtues of being a passenger or a driver on this trip, I chose to be a passenger. The German girl had the same debate, and was riding her own 650 up and down Chile. Enric gave me a bike last year, taught me to ride, and I love the feeling of slipping through traffic and navigating the highway on my motor powered bicycle. For half a year I debated whether or not I should prepare to ride my own bike. Friends asked: "Won't you be bored?" "Won't it be uncomfortable?" Yes to it all, and a mere 2 weeks into our journey I am so glad for the little cushion of red foam that is right behind Enric.
Sure I like to drive, to shift through the gears, to slide past other cars because I am on motorcycle and to feel like I am flying from the ground. On this trip, as I sit passenger, Enric moves curves bends and arches in front of me. He shifts gears, checks the map, jiggles between potholes, throttles up hills. He remembers the order of towns and the color of Argentine and Chilean cop cars. He navigates gravel so well that I am certain we are driving over pavement. He gets to fidget with the GPS mounted in front of him and check the map and know how long it is before we reach the next town. I have to ask for this information.
But the perks of being a passenger are great. Like potholes. The passenger does not navigate potholes, nor gravel, nor mud or puddles. The passenger can look forward, or can hide behind the driver for wind protection. The passenger has a backrest and a cushy seat and can ride without hands and can stretch her arms out to the sky like Mary in the Sound of Music. The passenger can also sing songs from the Sound of Music or Mary Poppins or the Bangles or whatever pops into her mind, because with idle hands and no need to concentrate on the road, the mind can wander liberally about. Passenger vision is spontaneous. Do I look to the left or the right? Do I want to close my eyes, or look backwards? Do I want to watch the road over Enric's shoulder? Do I open my eyes at all?
The other day we were on the road by 7:30 am in order to catch the 9am ferry that was 80 kilometers away. I woke up against Enric's back that was conveniently blocking the wind and keeping me warm. My lazy eyes traced the lines of wooden fences curving up and down over sheep dotted hills, and waited for the sun to rise. Today I watched 3 rainbows disappear against snow-covered mountains. Perhaps that is not as exciting as driving, and I wish that I were as tuned into all that he sees in front of us. So I stare over his shoulder and simulate what I would do if I was driving, until a few seconds later when I get distracted by the flock of sheep crossing the road, or a man off to the side leading an ox driven cart. One other thing I do not miss about driving is this tendency to leave my arm in the same position so long that it falls asleep and I cannot let go of the gas to shake it awake.
The motorcycle passenger has some unique views. The vista in the driving direction is always partially blocked by a red bump in the lower left or right hand corner (Enric's helmet). The bottom of the screen is obstructed by the front dash, but the side has a unique rearview feature. In the little 5-inch diameter picture frame that shoots off of the handlebar, the passenger can see if the ostrich's are still chasing the motorcycle. "But isn't it uncomfortable?" Many people ask. Ironically they ask the passenger and not the driver. I believe I have it quite good. 2 Duffel bags form a full sized backrest; the side panniers hold me upright, and Enric's body blocks me from the wind. The rest of me is free to move about as I please, and I have developed a kind of seat dance that is great for when I am singing loud or if I just want to warm up a little bit. There are moments where I need to be cautious of my wild contortions when Enric is navigating rougher terrain.
My only discomfort is that my wrists get cold when I wrap my arms around Enric's waist. They are the only part of me not covered by 3 layers of protection, and a cold snap of the wind makes me snap my arms back to their hiding place behind his body. Otherwise, the passenger seat is warm. Beneath my fiberglass head mount, Gortex shield and thermo liners, I could not be cozier. It feels great to throwing open the helmet visor while blanketed in this cozy bubble; it is like riding around on a cold day in a convertible with the heat turned on.
This does not answer the German girls question of will I be bored. Of course, everyone gets bored sometimes on a road trip - the driver included. There are long days when Enric drives slowly and I want to get somewhere fast, rain, hopping on and off the bike to check out pensions, wind. But even after 6 hours crossing a deserted stretch of road from Chile to Argentina we drive past an armadillo, and chase down a flock of uppity ostriches and take pictures of a herd of guarnicos (llamas). This you cannot see in the zoo. More things to love about being the passenger are the sun, waving at passing cars, waves from every person we encounter, stares from flocks of sheep, yell/talking with Enric and shouting my secrets to the wind.
The only trick to being a motorcycle passenger is finding a good and willing driver. There is no Lufthansa or United in this business. I have a contact, but I cannot divulge this information.
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