A list of times I've screamed in my helmet while riding a motorcycle
joy, beauty, terror
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Hey you beautiful human. It’s good to see you here again.
In one of my last posts, I asked everyone what they wanted to read with headlines from several drafts I have going on and ~surprise, surprise~ the one that won was the one titled: times I’ve screamed in my helmet while riding a motorcycle.
So here we are.
And I won’t lie — I’ve struggled to sit down and write this. I feel like I put so much of my identity into motorcycles for a number of years, and after some monumental shifts in my identity over the past two years — that isn’t the case anymore. Who I am isn’t wrapped up in all of that culture as much as it used to be. And I think writing about it now, kind of makes me feel like a fraud.
I’ve barely been on a motorcycle in the past year. And I’ve been feeling bad about that, but other things have taken priority. That’s just how life goes.
And we also did a giant, long motorcycle trip in the fall of 2022 that kicked our asses and left our bikes pretty worse for the wear. And shit’s gotten real expensive out there, anyone else notice that? It really sucks. So we haven’t been getting out and doing as much as we would have liked to do this year.
I’m full of excuses.
And imposter syndrome is crazy, right? It can take over everything if you let it. Like, how wild is it that I feel like a fraud writing this because I basically no longer feel like “someone who rides motorcycles,” just because I’ve had to take a break from it? We live in a culture that sees everything as either black or white when in reality everything is a shade of grey.
I am still a motorcycle rider despite not being on the bike for a while. I am many different things, and a motorcycle rider is just one small part of what makes me me.
(This is a longer one and it will cut off in your email, head on over to Substack to read the rest!)
1. Probably many times while learning how to ride a motorcycle.
I went down during the first year and a half of learning how to ride. Twice. Both were at slow speeds, and both the bike and I were fine besides some minor broken parts on the bike.
Learning how to ride a motorcycle did not come naturally to me. At all.
And for a while, there were many points where I had doubts and thought to myself, “Maybe this isn’t actually for me.”
And then about 18 months in, something just clicked. I am super grateful for all the people who taught me how to ride motorcycles, and ride them well. I mostly have Ladd to thank for that — there was a lot of tough love moments while I was learning.
2. Riding over Independence Pass during a June snowstorm with my brother.
We rode up to Aspen to do a shoot with Ladd for Sena. And he forgot gloves. It started snowing in Leadville and we had to stop and find him a pair so his hands didn’t completely freeze. We could only find a flimsy pair of gloves at a gas station. We both froze our asses off but it’s a good memory.
3. Riding through the desert outside of Joshua Tree in the pitch dark.
It had been a 500 mile day. It took forever to get where we were going. We had had a lot of breakdowns. My ass hurt and we were both fried. It was dark and I was worried about animals.
At that point, 20 miles outside of Joshua Tree, all I wanted was a shower and a warm bed.
4. Sausalito > Stinson Beach > San Francisco
Earlier in the day we had stopped and eaten in Sausalito on the water. Ate what I am sure is still the best lobster roll I’ve ever had.
From Sausalito we rode up through Muir Woods and up to Mount Tamalpais State Park and then down to Stinson Beach. It was definitely one of the most beautiful rides I have ever done and would like to go back and do it again one day. But the next time—we’ll be doing the full ride in the daytime.
Ladd ran out of gas and I had to ride to Bolinas because we couldn’t find a gas station closer. When I pulled up, someone said to me “welcome to the most expensive gas station in the country.”
It was dusk by this time. It wasn’t our plan (it never is—we are just really poor planners) to ride back to San Francisco in the darkness. But it’s what happened. And we didn’t really have any other choice.
It was for sure the most scared I have ever been on a motorcycle.
It was a dark, cold ride through a thick, misty fog bank. We slowly crept our way up and down what I imagined were steep cliffs next to the ocean—car headlights blinding us and the flash of deer eyes from the sides of the road.
Pretty much a combination of the worst things you could ride through as a motorcyclist. Wet pavement. Dense fog. Darkness. Dim headlights. Through a herd of deer. In the middle of nowhere.
When we finally made it to the gas station in Mill Valley, I laughed until I cried, happy to be alive.
Might have been the most terrified I’ve ever been on a motorcycle, but definitely one of those moments where I’ve felt most alive.
5. Riding around Tahoe.
There is this section of road on the southwest corner of Lake Tahoe that is magic.
You can’t tell by the video above that well, but you come around the corner after Emerald Bay, and the earth on both sides of the road pretty much just drops off. And it feels surreal riding through that section looking out at the lake and surrounding forest.
Just a ribbon of road through clouds.
(Or, in our case—wildfire smoke. But still. Who knew end times would be so beautiful?)
I remember very clearly, actually screaming in my helmet riding over this section of road the first time because I was so struck by how other-worldly it felt.
6. On a 100-mile race through the desert on a dirt bike.
In early 2022 I was, for some reason, very gung-ho about signing up and doing the Biltwell 100. I think my brain was looking for something to shake up what had been the worst couple months of my life.
And for whatever reason it choose: 100-mile dirt bike race through the hot, dry California desert. Go figure.
I hadn’t been on a dirt bike in over 6 months. I was wildly out of shape, sad and felt like I had suffered brain damage from all the trauma and grief I had experienced since September 2021.
Ladd and I had planned on training for this race — working out, going to the track to get seat time, etc. But, that really didn’t happen. We weren’t prepared for it, not even in the slightest.
We went and raced anyways.
Many screams. Many falls. Lots of pain. Much fun was had. I made a fool of myself crashing through the finish line on one lap, running out of gas and having to push the bike to the pits on another, and crashing so hard on the last lap that Ladd thought for sure I would have to be taken to the emergency room.
But no emergency room visit. Just a sprained wrist from a crash on the first major corner of the first lap that I rode with the next 3.5 laps. And bursitis in my knee from the last lap crash that only just healed a couple months ago.
It took me a long time to finish that damn race. I limped through 3.5/4 laps, when I probably should have just stopped after the first lap.
But I finished the damn thing. And it was hard and scary and tiring.
And somehow got first by default because I was the only woman in my class — vintage monoshock on my 1980-something XR250.
I still cringe at the though of my interview at the award ceremony when the guy asked “why the xr250?” and I said: “because it’s cheap.” It felt awkward as I got off the stage. (anxiety is so annoying, right?)
I get stage fright pretty bad and definitely froze. It’s one of those moments where I came up with the perfect response days after because I was still thinking about it:
“Because it keeps going no matter how many times I crash it.”
7. Zion National Park.
I mean, do I even have to write anything here? Zion is just incredible. I’ve never been through it in a car, but I can guarantee it is so much better on a motorcycle.
8. Riding Highway 1 through Big Sur & getting engaged to my best friend.
Ladd proposed to me somewhere on the side of the road in Big Sur on the last day of September 2022.
We had stopped in Cambria the previous night and stayed at the Cambria Beach Lodge (so cute - if you’re ever looking for a place to stay off the 1). As always, we pulled into town in the dark—damp and cold from the ocean air.
We got up early the next morning, walked along the boardwalk above the beach and then set out for Santa Cruz.
Have you ever been on highway 1 in Big Sur? It’s beautiful and we wanted to stop everywhere but didn’t have enough time.
We did stop at this cute gas station that had a hand-painted sign out front that read “Local Jade.” We stopped and talked to the guy who was selling his stones and jewelry for a few minutes.
And then we continued up the coast, stopping and taking photos, admiring the pink pampas grass and the crashing ocean below us. It was a good day.
I knew it was coming. We had joked about it earlier that day.
In typical Ladd fashion—he pretended his bike broke down. We pulled our bikes over, I walked up to him kneeling beside his bike, and he pulled out the ring. It was cheesy and perfect and I absolutely cried, nodding yes—both of our helmets still on.
At the gas station earlier that day, while I was packing up my bike, Ladd was figuring out how to barter with a guy that was living completely off-grid—no phone, no venmo, no bank account. Cash only.
He traded the ring he proposed to me with for some weed and a pack of cigarettes.
We now call it the roadside ring.**
**And to be clear—the roadside ring is set aside to be framed as the stone pretty much cracked immediately. 😂
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