WHATCHATHINKIN'

15 hours of sunlight. That’s what we’ll see on June 21, 2026 during the summer solstice in the northern hemisphere. Almost twice as much as December 21, 2025 on the winter solstice, when the thermometer registered in the mid 20s.

Looking out the window at 7am on January 30, the sun’s red glow glistens over the stark white snow which seems to go on forever. Oh, how I long for those early starts, as the sun makes its way over the horizon, bathing the motorcycles in its golden glow and beginning a long day’s summer journey of exploration and adventure, riding into the twilight hours.

I remember several trips where we had ‘miles to go before we slept’ which began, not at the early morning hours, but much later in the afternoon. Thankfully, we also had miles of sun before the dark, although summer riding when the moon and stars are your companion is heavenly. This we did on our trip to Newfoundland, as we came off the ferry at night and rode towards our hotel with a full moon for accompaniment. Absolutely stunning.

But this is about late distances. Those rides that begin when many others are checking into their hotels or pulling into their garages. Depending on what has gone on during the morning and afternoon hours of your day, these rides can either be a hard push or something that brings an unexpected joy to your life. We have encountered both.

17 years ago, in early May, we were celebrating my mother’s 80thbirthday. It was a wonderful celebration filled with family, friends, laughter and love, held in Demarest, NJ. Brian and I had already planned on a southern trip, heading to West Virginia to do some exploring. Thus we came to the party via motorcycles, with party clothes neatly concealed under Aerostich suits. It was well into the afternoon hours by the time the cake was cut and goodbyes were said and, with still a good amount of daylight, we took our leave for an almost 300 mile ride to Berkeley Springs, WV. We had reservations at a cute little cottage next to the Country Inn, and finally pulled in to the drive with just enough time to dump our riding gear and grab a bite before the town shut down. I would put this in the hard push category.

Moving forward to the autumn of 2016, there were many options offered us for a late riding season sojourn. The one we chose, riding with BMW then scooting south for oysters and west to join CLASS at Virginia International Raceway, got SNAFU’d by Hurricane Matthew. Always paying attention to the alphabet, we quickly went down the list and landed on Plan F, for fun, and headed west.

After a chilly start through Pennsylvania, we found ourselves in Charleston WV, at J.Q. Dickinson Salt Works. They are the purveyors of salt, which started its life some 400 million years ago when the region was under an ancient sea, and we took a tour showing us the ins and outs of how salt is harvested. By the time we were saddling back up, we were on the downward side of the sun with 180 miles to go to Wytheville, Virginia. We fueled up, dialed on the electrics and hunkered down to our ride. Truthfully, we flew through the rolling hills and deep valleys of West Virginia, eating up the mils at a rapid and fun pace. Route 10 was an incredible roller coaster and Route 598 above Bluefield had the most wonderful views. But the sun was heading west and the late afternoon sun in October gets eaten up quickly. We got to the Bolling Wilson Hotel, our very first stay there, in time for a lovely cocktail on their rooftop bar. 

The latest late distance encounter was the summer of 2022. We were on the west coast, gathering up the major league baseball stadiums in California. We had gone up the coast, from Angel Stadium in Anaheim to Oracle Stadium in San Francisco and were on our way back down the coast. Our plan was to leave San Leandro, where the Oakland A’s once called home, and stay in the same Motel 6 in Monterey as we did on the way up. Unfortunately, the Monterey Car Show had eaten up all the rooms. During the early evening golden hour of the summer, I took to my phone and travel apps to see what was around and came up with a great hotel room in Coalinga, CA. It looked like it was not too far and, when I told Brian, he plugged it into the GPS and informed me it was 150 miles back up the road and east over the mountains heading towards Death Valley. Guess I was looking at the crow flying there. After the first part of the haul doing some lane-splitting, the road opened up and we were able to set a wondrous pace. The smell of grass warmed by the summer sun and the resplendent undulating hills made for a magical ride. We rolled into the hotel as the last rays of the sun flittered away and the wide-open high desert sky gave way to the Milky Way. The unexpected joys of life – check.