| Dr. Gregory W. Frazier |
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Dr. Gregory W. Frazier REAL AVD RIDERS “Adventure Gardening” was how the road sign described the farm shop in Montana. “Adventure Reading” was on the dust cover of book about a canoe trip. “Adventure Hotel” was the name of a motel. “Adventure riding” was used to promote a high-end motorcycle tour of the Alps.  When seeing the adventure-gardening sign I wondered where the risk was in growing vegetables. Maybe it was losing the crop of tomatoes to bugs or birds, not being able to eat organically grown food from your garden.As for adventure reading of a book, I do most on my book reading lying on my back in bed. Maybe the risk factor, an element in the description of adventure, was I would fall asleep and the book would land on my face causing a life-threatening loss of oxygen. As for the adventure hotel, I could imagine, given the right company, oils, latex products, ropes, restraints, electrical aids and furniture, there could be the risk of death from a heart attack or asphyxiation. Adventure riding in the Alps? That one perplexed me. The tour company offered local riding guides in the front and back of the group, with catered lunch stops, four and five-star hotels, luggage handling, an on-board mechanic in the chase van with tools, spare parts and a retractable awning to provide shade or shelter in case of rain. Adventure motorcycle riding was a conundrum, and given the pictures in the brochure an oxymoron. The advertisement seemed to promote the fact that all risk had been removed from the motorcycle tour. If the motorcycle had a flat tire or quit running, the van mechanic would hop out and make the repairs while the motorcyclist sat in a chair under the awning sipping a cold soda or bottle of mineral water while posting pictures and words on the Internet. One night I was sharing my perplexities of the definition of adventure riding with a female motorcyclist when she hammered me with a bold statement, “You’re no adventure rider like your business card states you are, a “Professional Motorcycle Adventurer.” Shamed, I knew she was right. Twenty-five years ago when I designed the business card and letterhead, defining what I thought to be my profession, Robert Hellman, the late editor of BMW On The Level magazine, pinned me like a butterfly on display when he challenged my title. I thought then I had a solid understanding of the word adventure, what a motorcycle was, and where the differentiation was between the amateur and the professional. Ordinarily I would bristle as a relative obstreperous newbie to remote off-pavement motorcycling called me out like my dinner guest had. However, I had been with her jungle riding on lonely dirt track in Thailand near the Burmese border when we had come upon a group of military men who flagged us down. She handled herself with a respected coolness. I also knew her to own a pretty solid stable of motorcycles which included two Suzuki V-Stroms, one ’08 Kawasaki KLR650, a Honda ST1100 and a well-worn Honda Silverwing. “So if I am not a motorcycle adventurer who has made a profession of it, what am I?” She asked how many miles I logged each year, and I replied, “Maybe 40,000-50,000, depending on my money and time.” “Didn’t you get called a ‘total fanatic’ by one well-know moto-journalist for your lone wolf lifestyle, commitment and dedication to motorcycles, motorcycle racing, motorcycle repairing and your work in the industry as a motorcycle magazine journalist and author?” “Yes, well, err, I was in some pretty heavy company when I got dubbed with that. There were four others who were at the top of that list with me, so the fanaticism was spread around between us.” “Do you choose motorcycle wrenching and journeying over Twitter and posting on Facebook, or do you even bother with a blog?” Hanging my head, I had to admit not doing any of the three, even when not given an option of two-wheel motorized pursuits. “Well then, you’re an avid motorcyclist.” She opened her purse and handed me a sticker, saying, “Put this on your motorcycle or helmet. It says you are WTF out there, in a category that is clearly defined. You are not an adventure poseur over your keyboard. You, and the others who I sticker, are avid riders, nicknamed AVD riders for short.” “Ok, I’ll sticker my helmet or panniers with your sticker if you’ll paste my sticker on your motorcycle.” I gave her one of my stickers. It reads MOTORCYCLE SEXPEDITION – ABSOLUTE RIDING. I explained that I had been doing field research on the topic by using volunteer consultants who were motorcycle enthusiasts riding to distant places on the globe. By badging her motorcycle or helmet she would become one of the research assistants. Pocketing my sticker she blushed when she said, “That is the kind of adventure riding I can relate to, but before becoming part of your wild, licentious team of researchers I think I had better ask my boyfriend.” I pulled out another sticker and said, “Give this one to him. I could use a real AVD rider team on the project.” Dr. Gregory W. Frazier is a professional motorcycle adventurer. To read more, go to www.horizonsunlimited.com/gregfrazier. His collection of published works and films can be found under “Catalog,” and what he is up to these days under “What’s New. His home is in the Big Horn Mountains of Montana, but he travels extensively by motorcycle around the globe during the year. He says of his wilder motorcycle adventures on the planet, “I hate adventure that has anything to do with snakes or sharks.” |