One of the best adrenaline rushes I get while riding a motorcycle in various parts of the world is not actually riding dirt, surprise surprise (and much to Dave’s chagrin) but rather becoming just for a few moments, part of a motorcycle street gang.
Most places we’ve gone have little to no traffic laws. Or… they’re there but no one gives a shit about them, even the cops and especially the drivers and riders. Dave and I have long since learned to bypass huge traffic jam line-ups at the lights in the bigger cities by either splitting lanes (not easy with our gigantic side cases) or even use sidewalks. Not for long, just to get past a few trucks or so. Once you reach the front line at the red light, where there are already a smattering of revving engines varying in shapes and sizes, the light turns green and all bikes are off like a shot, or as fast as their 125 CC engines can peal away. These locals posses great dexterity having grown up riding on the backs of bikes and now riding themselves. They way they find room to weave through traffic that is literally bumper-to-bumper is almost an art. At the very least, it should be an Olympic sport.
We simply follow what other riders are doing (when we can) and if they ride up and over sidewalks, well why not us too? But yes, not easy. Sometimes I look at Dave’s bike in front of me and realize it’s almost as wide as the Honda Civic in front. I have to admit I’m surprised by my own learned agility to manoeuvre my black beast around in stop and go traffic with cabs and buses making sudden lane changes or basically just trying to run you right over. It’s a rush. I’m glad I honed my riding skills in downtown Vancouver B.C. Who knew I’d be prepping for street racing in Bogota?