A Man’s Home is His Garage

Going to the bike shed event made me think about the time I spend in my own garage.

We all need our own space. Somewhere to work on the bike. Somewhere to spread out with kit, tools, maps and a beer to escape the wife, kids,  office and everything that fills our day-to-day existence. Somewhere to plan the next adventure.

Other people don’t get it though.

Take my wife. For her, if she’s not getting something out of the freezer, time in the garage is wasted. She thinks my bike must constantly break down because of the time I spend out there…”why don’t you get rid of it….it’s always breaking down….why don’t you get a car? etc etc. As I say, she doesn’t get it.

Yea, I’m often rattling around in there in shorts and a t-shirt whatever the weather outside (I have a warm double garage and pretty good workshop 🙂 ). But she hasn’t stopped to wonder why.

It’s not to fix the bike – though I love working on it.

It’s because a garage is more than a place to keep your bike, whatever the bike. And it’s more than a place where you can put that old lid you can’t bring yourself to throw out or leave a greasy pile of tools or parts without anyone nagging.

It’s a workshop, a place where you can build up your tools, your knowledge or even your own bike.

It’s a place to take in that great smell of oil after a lube job, the hot exhaust after you’ve just got back from a ride out, the rubber from new tyres or just your leathers when you’re getting ready to go.

It’s a place to have that quiet drink, and time to think.

It’s your very own home within a home. A place where you can feel just right. And just like when I’m out on my bike, it’s a place for ‘me time’.

It took me ages to find my place. But I wouldn’t have it any other way. I wouldn’t swap my garage for the world. 

What Do You Prefer…?

Light or heavy? DRZ499 or 1200GSA?

 

What if?

Ever play ‘what if’ as a kid?

My mate Steve and I did, all the time. You had a fiver and had to buy sweets for a week. We grew – and so did the game. First cars, best girlfriends, that kinda thing.

So it was with a smile (and a beer) that Steve and I had the same discussion last night.

This is how Steve put it, kicking back in my study the other day:

‘So imagine – you’ve got your nice, detached house, your big GS sitting in a twin garage, workshop all kitted out. You’ve got a big garden, pool, drive, electric gates. Wife’s happy. Kids too, getting good marks in a good school.

You’re financially comfortable – you have all the time and money you need to do your thing. 🙂

Life couldn’t be better.

Then you’re told you’ve gotta spend 30 grand. In 48 hours. What do you do?”

Have to say, I had to give it some thought and biking won out. So, here’s my choice:

New KTM 690 Enduro R (7 grand)

Rally Raid Adventure kit (2 grand)

Klim kit (a grand)

Adventure-spec hard parts and soft luggage (a grand)

Airlift bike and me to Cape Town (15 grand?)

Beer, whisky and cigars from duty free (couple of hundred quid)

A bit of female company (the rest) 🙂

What if , huh?

Unshackled

It started at weekends. Friday night – slide off work early, hit the road, destination anywhere. I decide! A B&B, nothing fancy. Saturday – good breakfast then back in the saddle. Full tank of gas, head for Scotland. Big space, big sky. Big rain (who cares?!). Freedom!

Saturday night – beers in an outa-the-way pub. Knowing no-one, being anyone. Feels like a million miles away from the office. Just a weekend of me, the bike, the road and the journey I want to take.

No deadlines. No banal chit-chat. No queues. No ‘On my desk by Wednesday!’ Whatever I want. In my own time. My decision. My Choice. Leave behind the paperwork. Zone out the routine. The real me.

And then back for work on Monday 😦

Then it grew. Too short, need longer. So I did it: took out the map, spread it over the kitchen table. Coffee in hand.

‘Wow – where to start?!’

I planned my first week. Further north into Scotland, west coast island-hopping on the CalMac ferries. No deadlines. No banal chit-chat. No queues. Instead – stunning scenery, great people and good beer. Peace, quiet, time and trails. And I thought weekends were good.

And that was it – hooked. This is the real me, and it’s addictive. I like who I am on the bike. It lets me be the real me – unshackled.

I wouldn’t want it any other way.