Blue Highways: Mindfulness on the Backroads

There's a concept in motorcycle riding that we all know intuitively, even if we don't have a name for it. It's not really adventure riding, it's not really cruising, it's not really touring. Yeah, it's more of a feeling. It's that feeling when you turn off the interstate, when you get out of the city, away from modern life and its crowds, its noises, its confusion. It's when your tires hit the, I don't know, older, a bit rougher pavement of the state highways here in the United States, or better yet, the hard-packed dirt roads, those old county roads that we have up here in Colorado. Those are my favorites. The pace slows down out there. Now I'm not talking about speed. It's a pace of life. It slows down and it's beautiful. The smells change from car exhaust from the highways to fresh-cut hayfields out here and pine trees. Out here, hot on your motorcycle, you stop being a blurred object just moving across the landscape so fast, and you kind of become part of it. And again, that's a beautiful thing. Sometimes I think we're given a chance to take a step back from the crowds. Sometimes stepping back is forced upon us, like there's no other choice. That happened to a guy named William, and it changed his life. And lucky for us, he wrote about it, and it became one of the best travel logs I've ever read. That's called Blue Highways. And does it relate to our experience on motorcycles? You bet it does. Stay tuned.

Recorded in beautiful, loveliness, Colorado, welcome to Peace Love Moto, the podcast for motorcyclists seeking that peaceful, easy feeling as we cruise through this life together. Are you ready? Let's go. Feeling like his life was becoming unraveled, he packed his bags and moved into a van, and he named his van affectionately Ghost Dancing, and he set out on what became a 13,000-mile journey around the United States. But he had one rule that he set for himself: no interstates. Yep, instead of speeding along the main highways, which would have been so easy, he stuck to the secondary roads, the ones that used to be drawn in blue ink on the old Ren McNally road atlases. He called them Blue Highways. His book, by the same name, Blue Highways, is nearly 40 years old now, but for us as writers, it's like a sacred text, at least it is for me. It's right up there with Neil Peart's ghost writer. But it's not because Blue Highways is about motorcycling. It's not. He actually drove a van. It's because it captures the exact philosophy of mindful road trips. It's a trip where you take time to stop, to rest, to take a deep breath, and most importantly, to have conversations, to listen to and learn from other people that you meet along the way. You drive some more, stop again, take a deep breath, relax, and repeat. My friends, that's a wonderful way to travel. It's a mindful way to travel. What a way to go. And it turned out to be a wonderful book that I've not only read, but I have it on audio as well. Talk about overkill. But I like that book a lot. I love that. And isn't that why we ride sometimes too? When life takes a turn, when life feels overwhelming?

We know that things will get tough sometimes, and we know also that taking a motorcycle ride will probably help, even if we don't know where we're going. It's just the act of going, the physics of motion that helps us to untangle the knots in our minds. As Neil Peart put it, taking a baby for a ride in a car can help it to relax, to feel calm, even make it go to sleep. It's comfort in motion. And maybe we experience the same effect when we take a ride. We do relax. We do feel this sense of calm, this comfort from moving from scene to scene down the road. But here's the real lesson, I think, from Blue Highways, and it's a challenge I want to make for you as well as for myself. Heat Moon didn't drive the back roads only to see the scenery. He drove them to see the people. He traveled to ask questions and then listen and write down what they said. To listen and to learn from others who were quite different from himself. Yeah, he learned from those conversations that there are some, let's say, nasty people out there with bad attitudes. Yeah, we've all met those. But overwhelmingly, he found that there are kind, generous, wonderful people out there on those back roads, in those little towns. That's the vast majority of people. Social media and the news may convince you otherwise, but let's be honest, it's the loud, let's say, misguided people who often make the headlines. They are the minority, I'm sure of that.

I'll close with this thought, this suggestion. When we write, it's easy to stay inside of our helmets, physically and virtually. It's safe in there. We have our music playing, we have our visor down, we're in our own little world. But I think the most profound moments of travel are when we put the kickstand down and take our helmets off. It starts with a conversation with a stranger, a simple, hi, how are you? Or responding to a comment from a stranger when they say, hey, that's a nice bike. You see, it's that conversation with the old timer at the gas station who wants to know, well, how fast will that thing go? It's the waitress at the diner who tells you the whole history of the town just because you ordered a pie. So, here is your mission for this week. Plan a route that avoids highways. Find the squiggly line on the map that you've never taken before. And don't just ride down it. Stop. Find a local coffee spot. Talk to a stranger who looks nothing like you. Find out their name and where they're from. And on that note, I would love to know your name and where you're from and what you ride. Message me through the Instagram account for Peace LoveMoto or send me an email at ron at peacelubmoto.com. Either way, get out there and ride. Find your blue highway. Talk with a stranger. You might find that on a small, slow road in the middle of nowhere on a forgotten blue highway, you're closer to home than you've ever been. Give it a try. Hey, thanks so much for listening. Until we visit again, ride in peace.