Winter in Patagonia: Motorcycle Diaries

I recently bought a motorcycle.  A 1993 Suzuki TS125.  For those of you that don't know motorcycles, its an "enduro" bike, which means it's a sort of street-legal motorcross bike.  I know, it's a step away from my professed goal of granola self-sufficiency, but I decided that, to really take advantage of this place, I need to be more mobile.  I'm going to classes on beekeeping, medicinal plants, and tai chi, starting a nursery with a group of friends, and even scored a small gardening job recently.  I need to be able to get around more easily to make all this work, and the bike consumes less than a car.  I must admit that I am hooked, so hopefully someone is working on the used cooking oil version.


Despite my enthusiasm for the two-wheeler, I am not quite a Hell's Angel yet...


For starters, most people would say that someone of my size needs a bigger bike.  Well, I looked at some bigger bikes and they scared the crap out of me.  This bike is fine, though.  Struggles on the steep hills, but the little engine that could always makes it up.


I had never driven a motorcycle before, so buying one inevitably led to the mildly embarrassing moment when the young mechanic offered me a test drive.  It spit and sputtered and stopped and screamed around the block under my mediocre management of pedal and throttle and clutch.  "You'll get it in no time, " he cleverly assured me.


A couple days later I stopped at a gas station to get an empanada.  When I walked out to the bike I realized I had neither my helmet nor my key.  I smiled sheepishly as I turned to find the cashier bringing them out to me.


I did get it, but over the next few days I made it scream and shut-off a fair amount, sometimes in the middle of what is thankfully light traffic.  One night in the rain I thought it was broken because every time I put it in first it shut off.  A little throttle was all I was missing, I realized as a friend got it going with no problems.


The first time I tried to take it up a big hill, the big hill that is an elemental part of the route between my house and the town, I stalled halfway up.  I cursed myself as I struggled in the freezing cold to start it without rolling down the hill or falling over.  That only happens occasionally now.  Almost never.


One day I had stopped by the side of the road to look at something and I lost my balance and the bike just fell over.  Thankfully I didn't fall and nobody was around to see.  Frantic only with embarrassment, I inefficiently struggled until the bike was upright again.  That was, to be clear, a one time occurrence on day 3 of ownership. 


Speaking of ownership, I'm not even really clear on my status.  I have the title and a bill saying I bought and paid for it, but I have no license plate and no registration and no insurance.  In short, I'm not sure that if I get stopped they won't just take it away from me.  Thankfully my area of circulation is limited and largely rural, police presence is near non-noticeable here, and I wear a helmet and have working lights.  People, and by people I mainly mean the guy who sold me the bike, say that lots of people here roll like that and that as long as I keep  between the lines I'll be ok.  So far so good.


The turn blinkers don't automatically turn off as they do in all cars I have driven, so I often drive all over town with a blinker on before realizing it.  They are also wired wrong so I have to think left to turn right and vice versa.


Temperatures hover around freezing here on most days, and with the wind rushing by it can be painful.  One morning I had to stop into a gas station and just go stand inside after only a few minutes of riding.  I couldn't even get my helmet off my fingers were so numb.  I realized my gloves were not enough, so I bought these handlebar covers that look like oversized cooking mittens.  For a while it really bothered me that I couldn't see my hands.  Not to mention that waving while driving is even more complicated than ever.


These struggles are behind me now, for the most part, and I'm on my way to being a true motorcycle man.