Jax and I figured we’d reached that, uhmmmm, stage in life where camping would take place in our 35 foot Class A Winnebago bulgemobile with refrigerator and microwave and six cats while towing the motorcycle behind on the trailer – she probably still thinks that way! :>). But lately I’ve been considering (dare I say it?) motorcycle camping! Yikes! Call them dudes with the butterfly nets!

There’s just something to be said for heading out on the Bulgesicle plying nearly endless twisty roads through the day and ending up in a nice, quiet (and inexpensive) campsite for the night. Kicking back with your feet up in front of a roaring campfire with a babbling creek running alongside and a suitable adult beverage in your hand… Ahhhhhh, the good life.

On the other hand, of course, there’s the need for a tent, sleeping bags, air mattresses, something to sit on and all the other paraphernalia that make a campsite “habitable”. Packing all of the camping gear onto the back of the bike would probably work fine if I was riding alone but there simply isn’t going to be enough room for the both of us, all of our gear, and all of the camping equipment. That means locating and buying a trailer and installing a hitch; all of which cost money and tend to negate the “inexpensive” part of camping. Another option is a camping trailer to pull behind the bike eliminating the tent and air mattresses but costs truly skyrocket when considering these beauties. Some of them seem to have as many “features” as one could want in such a small package and there’s no denying their attractiveness…

Then there’s simply the possibility that my (slightly) aging (but still willing) body is going to complain about crawling around inside a tent while it’s cold and raining and windy out. Cramming myself into a rucksack hardly bigger than I am while trying to make certain I don’t wiggle myself off of the air mattress and onto the ground into those puddles forming in my supposedly “waterproof” tent. Then, of course, there’s all them little (or not so little) bloodsucking insects whining around and doing their best to make a meal of me. Smoke from the dying campfire drifting into the tent and choking my poor, ex-smoker lungs and making my eyes water like a little kid who’s eaten too much watermelon. Waking up in the morning and doing a McGuyver trying to make a coffee on a burner designed by the Marquis De Sade using a paper towel for a filter and burning myself on hot coffee grounds. Then there’s the fumbling my way to the restroom three or four times during the night to drain that suitably adult beverage I shouldn’t have had earlier. This is the good life?

I don’t know but something tells me I’m going to give this “motorcycle camping” thing a try this year. So, if you pull into a campground and see some (slightly) aging fellow crawling around on the ground next to a red Bulgesicle and coughing like a madman while a tear drips from his eye just smile and say “Hi”. It’ll just be me “having fun”!

Ride safe,
Zippo and Jax