Ah, motorcycles. Just saying the word gets my adrenaline pumping and my imagination revving at full throttle. There’s something unexplainably magical about the idea of straddling a machine that hums beneath you, vibrating with pure, unadulterated power, and then letting it whisk you away into the unknown. Wind in your face, the road stretching endlessly ahead like it’s teasing you to go just a little faster. It’s the stuff of freedom, the kind that feels reckless, bold, and just a smidge chaotic—kind of like me on a good day.

Now, let me paint you a picture. One day, I’m going to own a collection, a veritable museum of two-wheeled wonders. Bikes of every kind, from those sleek sports demons that look like they belong in the next Fast and Furious installment, to the timeless classics that seem like they should come with their own leather jackets and rebellious soundtrack. But for now, all I’ve got is a million questions and a head full of dreams—and maybe a few hip and back pains that remind me I’m not exactly built for every type of bike out there. Ok, maybe I will just own two or three with wicked paint jobs done by yours truly with some help from an uncle who works with car paint.

Here’s the thing: I can’t do cruisers. Let me just say it plainly—those low-slung seats may look cool, but my body and those things are like oil and water. I can’t sit on one for more than a few short, torturous minutes before my hips start screaming like they’re auditioning for a horror movie. I tried to convince myself otherwise, thinking, “Maybe I just need the right model.” Spoiler alert: I never found one. I’ve resigned myself to the fact that the cruiser life is not for me, and that’s okay because let’s face it if some of us just need ergonomically friendly seating. Or is it just that I prefer the bikes and have dreamed of them since I sat on my first Harley when I was only five? It is probably the second option truth be told, yet the car accident injuries do play a part.

So, where does that leave me? Well, smack dab in the realm of sport bikes, of course. The crotch rocket, the speed demon, the bike that makes every fiber of your being scream excitement and then some. I know what you’re thinking “Isn’t that the kind of bike that makes your wrists and back pay the price after a long trip?” And you’re not wrong, yet for me as usual I like to break the rules, so it actually does the opposite in my experience so far. But here’s the kicker: sport bikes are light, fast, and nimble, which means they make me feel like I’m in a high-speed chase even when I’m just zipping down to the grocery store for milk. Plus, there’s something undeniably cool about leaning into a curve like you’re in your own private MotoGP race. Every downside is worth it for that sensation alone. Before I make a long haul, snowbird trip I am going to test out riding for longer stretches day after day first.

I’ve got my eye on the Kawasaki Ninja. Oh, the Ninja. Just saying the name makes me imagine myself slicing through the air like a green (or whatever color I do settle on) blur of awesomeness. A lighter bike like the Ninja seems like it would be just right for the kind of long-haul trips I’m dreaming of—like, say, heading into the States to visit some friends. I picture myself with a small bag strapped to the back, a battery pack or three, some video equipment attached, and an endless playlist blasting through my helmet speakers as I zoom down to the boarder and head to Route 66 or some other iconic stretch of American asphalt. I have yet to decide on the route and where I will stop though I do have a few places that are non-negotiable. The Ninja has this almost mythical reputation for being dependable, thrilling, and not likely to throw out your back. It’s a contender, for sure.

But then there’s the question of whether I should go heavier. Would a heavier bike give me more stability on a long road trip? Maybe. But would it also feel like trying to wrestle a wild animal every time I need to park it? Also maybe. The heavier bikes have their charm, no doubt about it, but I’m not sure I’m ready to commit to something that might make me feel like I need to hit the gym just to handle it especially for a long haul trip the Hayabusa has taught me this one (So, no my USA friends I am not gonna be riding that bike for the trip). Besides, the Ninja has this sleek, aerodynamic vibe that makes you feel like you’re cheating physics every time you open the throttle. Hard to beat that.

Then, oh boy, there’s Ducati. The brand that practically oozes style and sophistication. Owning a Ducati is like joining an elite club where everyone knows you’ve got impeccable taste and probably also a bank account willing to absorb some heavy hits for maintenance. Ducati bikes are fast, aggressive, and undeniably sexy. If motorcycles were people, a Ducati would be the kind of person who shows up to a party in a tailored suit, winks at you from across the room, and leaves with the kind of swagger that makes everyone else jealous. Do I want to be that person? Maybe. Do I want to deal with the headaches that come with being that person? Less sure. But still, the allure of a Ducati is hard to deny.

This is where my research kicked into high gear. I dove headfirst into the rabbit hole of specs, reviews, and every little detail you could imagine. Fuel economy, for instance—because while I love the idea of roaring through highways like a bat out of hell, I don’t love the idea of stopping at every other gas station. Some sport bikes guzzle fuel like it’s going out of style, but others, like certain models of the Ninja, are surprisingly efficient. I imagine myself laughing maniacally as I pass yet another gas station, feeling giddy about not having to stop yet again which is also easier on the pocket book.

Then there are the add-ons. If I’m serious about a long trip, I’ll need stuff like saddlebags or a top box—something to carry my essentials without making me look like I’m auditioning for a role in a Mad Max reboot. Comfort upgrades are also a must. A gel seat, maybe, or even heated grips for those chilly mornings when the road calls but the weather’s not cooperating. Oh, and don’t get me started on tech. Bluetooth connectivity, integrated GPS, maybe even a fancy helmet with a built-in HUD. I could go full Tony Stark if I wanted to, and let’s be honest, part of me does.

But the more I researched, the more chaotic my thoughts became. Every bike, every feature, every review felt like it was pulling me in a different direction. It’s like trying to choose between your favorite snacks when you’re starving—do you go for something salty, sweet, or a mix of both? Do I prioritize comfort, speed, style, or reliability? Can I have it all, or is that just a pipe dream? The chaos is real, but it’s also part of the fun. There’s something exhilarating about not knowing exactly where you’ll land, just that you’re going to get there on two wheels and a healthy dose of adrenaline.

At this point, I’m practically daydreaming about hitting the open road. I see myself cruising (well, not cruising, let’s call it speeding responsibly) down endless highways, cursing at traffic because I am not overly fond of going between cars even if I do fit. I just don’t want the ticket especially when traveling out of my own country, the landscape blurring past me, the roar of the engine drowning out every worry I’ve ever had and just seeing where I land next, though if I am smart I will make sure I know where the bike repair shops are and where to get tires with the amount of driving I plan on doing. I’ll stop at roadside diners and strike up conversations with fellow riders, sharing stories about the best routes and the worst weather we’ve faced. I’ll snap pictures of breathtaking views, my bike gleaming in the sunlight like a noble steed. And when I finally roll up to my friends’ place, I’ll do it with the kind of flair that only a motorcycle can provide—because let’s be real, arriving on a bike is infinitely cooler than arriving in a car and no I wont put on a muffler to increase my noise level when traveling, besides the fact that here there are a few areas you can’t go if you go over a certain decibel level so I imagine there will be other places to.

One thing I do know is that the paint job will be one of a kind. The medicine wheel colours for my rims, a back of wolves running at night across the open plains with a full moon on one side, the other side I plan on having wolves again but with the Northern Lights and Rockies in the image. Not easy to do paint jobs but the nice thing about doing this on my own is I can stop and pick up automotive paint and do touch ups myself. I also know I will have lightweight gear but the best for protection, especially against the sun. Hmm should probably see what the rules are on bringing natural dried plants with me for use medicinally as I am very familiar with First Nation medicines and if I can deal with a burn that is first through third degree and not have any peeling I would love to bring that with me for sunburns.

So here I am, still in the throes of indecision but loving every second of it. The Ninja, the Ducati, maybe even something I haven’t thought of yet—they’re all possibilities, all part of the dream. And who knows? Maybe one day I’ll have them all, a garage full of bikes that reflect every facet of my chaotic, adrenaline-fueled personality. Until then, I’ll keep researching, keep dreaming, and keep imagining myself as the kind of rider who can take on the world—one highway, one curve, and one bike at a time. I will keep planning my route, working on a list of what things I would want to bring and what I would need to transport it all on the bike especially the never-ending medications that drive me nuts. Though if you have some advice I would love to hear it, or maybe you know a bike that would be even better for what I plan while still keeping it on the lighter side or I would just take the Hayabusa. Let’s face it, that is a bike that anyone who rides tends to know even if it is a pain in the ass to insure.