The motorcycling world, as I know it, came tumbling down around me this past summer. I begrudgingly accepted the 2005 30th Anniversary Honda Gold Wing to ride for my four-state tour out west. Even my wife Kathy, who was flying out to meet me for the ride, wasn’t thrilled at the prospect of being perched on the back of a big touring rig. Out of sheer practicality, I ceded the fact that the long Interslab ride from North Carolina to Arizona could actually be somewhat tolerable with a stereo and a windshield.
By the time I arrived at Tuscon International Airport to pick up the world’s greatest co-pilot, I had obviously lapsed into full-blown denial. The smiles induced by the high-speed jaunt across the New Mexico desert, exploring Route 66, and the peg-dragging twist-o-rama through the Gila National Forest had to be the result of some sort of delirium, a mirage if you will. This was clearly a condition brought about by the vast expanses and the extreme heat. I couldn’t be starting to like this bike. It’s too big, too clumsy, too heavy, remember? Two days and countless grins later, I knew the mirage of fondness was actually real. At a gas stop, while unzipping our matching Gold Wing Air-Tek jackets, Kathy looked over at me and said, "So, just what would a Gold Wing cost us?"