This story is part of our ongoing series about what makes our luthier Dave, tick.

Kawasaki Versys-X 300 – my VX3

I used to ride motorcycles in my youth. It would have been back in the early to mid-70s. I really enjoyed it. It seems like a weird thing to be getting back into, especially at 57 years old, but if not now, when? The risk/benefit ratio only gets worse with time. The events of the last year have changed my perspective a great deal and I’m not waiting to do things anymore because frankly, you have less time than you think. Age, circumstances, people…most of it is beyond your control and you have to seize the day while you can. So I am.

I did a good bit of research before I bought a bike. I was looking for something comfortable and not too big. I wanted enough power to have fun but not so much that it would overwhelm me as a returning rider. If figured it’s more fun to ride a small, lightweight bike fast, than a big, heavy bike slow. So I decided on a Kawasaki Versys-X 300…my VX3. So far, she’s been just perfect. I’m learning a lot and having loads of fun.

I wear a full complement of body armor, took a riding class and I actively practice riding technique. I’m not insane. I understand riding a motorcycle is a hazardous endeavor but it’s really, really fun. Carving twisty turns on two wheels is deeply satisfying. I’ve done it for years on bicycles, but this is something different. Rolling on the throttle while banked into a long sweeping turn is sublime. I don’t have to be going fast either. For me, going smoothly and making a perfect turn is just as fun.

I’m armored up from head to toe every time I ride. Picture RoboCop and you have a good idea what I look like. Helmet, boots, gloves, jacket, pants…I wear it all, every time I ride. DOT, CE-rated, Snell-approved…I’ve become quite familiar with these terms and my body armor has the alphabet soup of approvals. It doesn’t make me invincible of course, but it’s a good idea.

It is what it is. I’m a little old guy on a little motorcycle riding around with a huge grin hidden inside my helmet. Carpe diem.