I’m selling my bike

9 Trevor's KLR650 in front of the restored CPR caboose at Midway-Mile Zero of the Kettle Valley Railway
The KLR650 rests beside a Canadian Pacific Railway caboose at the Kettle River Museum in Midway

 

 

I know this isn’t Craiglist. Nor is it a place to moan about the old days. But I’ve got some sad, perhaps surprising, news.

The motorcycle I’ve been riding for the past six years is for sale.

Yes, you read it right. The Kawasaki KLR650 that I’ve ridden all over British Columbia (into Alberta and Washington State a bit too, but who’s counting destinations?) searching for historic places while bouncing up and down on gravel roads and holding onto for dear life while taking switchbacks on FSRs to former gold towns is up for grabs.

It’s for sale. What am I doing? I’ve been sneaking into the garage not saying anything (I usually do say hello to my motorcycle…What? Don’t you?) to my KLR for days.

I’ve written notes on its solid, unforgiving factory seat that would become paragraphs in my two books. It has appeared, dusty and proud, in my  articles in Motorcycle Mojo, Inside Motorcycles, RidersWest, Canadian Biker, Rider Magazine… just to name a few.

The motorcycle has brought me to faded silver towns like Sandon in the Kootenays, to the back door route up forest service roads to park next to Mount St. Helens, to the northern extremes of Vancouver Island along unforgiving gravel, to the peaceful and rainy park at Waterton, Alberta, and led me up the Stewart-Cassiar Highway into the north of British Columbia.

Needless to say, I’m reluctant to part with this particular motorcycle.

But as I’ve recently purchased my friend Mike’s BMW F650GS (see Mike’s Bike), it’s time.

It’s time to part with an old friend who, I hope, will find a good home.

The motorcycle has been winter-stored at Burnaby Kawasaki for the six years I’ve owned it. It was bought in October 2011 from a musician leaving for Manitoba in a real hurry. I’m the third owner. It was a basic, non-modified factory model when I bought it. I added Happy Trails Teton 33-litre aluminum panniers, Happy Trails bash plate, Moose pegs, hand guards and a 16” Clearview windshield. The doohickey’s done. Also I’m including a Wolfman Explorer Lite tank bag and Wolfman Expedition Dry duffel bag as well as all the Rok Straps you’ll need to secure it. There are two Michelin T63 knobbies on, front and back, with lots of tread on (as well as an Avon rear and Bridgstone front as a spare pair of shoes).

Regularly maintained at Burnaby Kawasaki (I kept records and receipts), it was also valued by the good folks at BK at $3000. So that’s how I’ll price it.

So if you are in the market for a well-loved dual-sport motorcycle that has had its share of media exposure and still has many adventures left in it, I’d like to hear from you.

Here’s my email address: contact@trevormarchughes.ca

Don’t try to talk me out of it! Oh my my my…

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Reliving childhood adventures along Highway 19a

When I was a kid, I would look forward to camping up island all year.  My favourite campground was Miracle Beach near Courtenay. And I would get there on Vancouver Island’s  wonderful Highway 19a.

Now that highway has a super-speedy counterpart, Highway 19, where travellers can blast along at 120 kph, but I prefer taking it slowly, riding along the coast past oyster farms, quiet bays and beautiful scenery.

Here is a visual record of riding this exceptional road from Oyster Bay south of Campbell River to Qualicum Beach.  I hope you enjoy it…

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Making Peace with CBC Radio

I don’t have a single picture of myself working at CBC Radio. Isn’t that odd?

I spent ten years of my life working at CBC Radio Vancouver, at the CBC HQ at 700 Hamilton Street, and didn’t think to take a single picture of myself doing my work, on-air in a studio, out in the field extending the microphone to the hundreds of people I interviewed, etc.

You could say it was because I left the CBC in January 2007,  ten years ago, prior to the inception of Instagram.

But the more I think about it I realize why.  I was working REALLY hard. I was a freelancer. Not unlike my previous occupation, which was acting, I was judged based on what I had done last. Sometimes that was working as an associate producer on a current affairs program, sometimes it was gathering sound or interviews and editing an individual documentary or report. In the second five years of that ten year term, I was brought in regularly to cover the regional arts beat as an arts reporter for British Columbia. Incidentally, this last kind of work no longer exists at CBC Radio.

Which is the main reason why I left.

I got wind of how The Arts Report, the Toronto-produced hub of arts reports from across the country, was being phased out.  I honestly couldn’t think of what I’d do if that happened. Go back to slogging along as a freelancer…piece by piece? That didn’t sound appealing.  More and more work, previously produced by staff, was being metered out to freelancers. The piece of the pie was getting smaller and smaller.

But that wasn’t all. Things in my personal life were not going well. Anyone who has read the initial chapters of my first book Nearly 40 on the 37 knows what was going on. My very young son was showing all the signs to what, I now know, would be diagnosed as autism. My relationship with his mother was falling apart. Then I turned to the freedom of motorcycling to gather back my thoughts. Day rides up the Sea-to-Sky Highway or along Highway 101 up the Sunshine Coast were how I coped. The enjoyment of riding a motorcycle and, eventually, writing about the experience, would get me out into my home province. As opposed to writing a story about a place I’d never been to before, doing interviews over the phone, I could go to that place and gather the material first hand.  I discovered a new way of applying the training that I had received working at CBC Radio.

Today I’m in a positive, loving and supportive relationship with my wife of seven years, Laura. My son Michael, diagnosed with autism in 2009, has transitioned wonderfully to high school and is in a technology immersion program that gives him fulfilling ways to apply his talents. I have a five-year-old son, Marc, who I live vicariously through as he sees for the first time the world around him and absorbs everything. I’m a happy husband and father.

I passed the much-changed edifice of the CBC building over the Christmas holidays. The sweeping staircase I always got a charge climbing has been replaced by a White Spot restaurant, jumbo television screen and shiny upper-floor TV news studios. I used to love passing the plaques for Bruno Gerussi, Robert Clothier and other figures that had been pioneers in the public broadcaster’s early decades as I climbed those stairs. Change is inevitable, but I do miss that old grand concrete staircase leading to a place where I was proud to work, that I had felt a connection to growing up. I will forever be indebted and appreciative of the journalism training, work and opportunities that I received at CBC Radio Vancouver, but now I’ve got to move on and make peace with the place that I blamed for dismissing The Arts Report.

Here’s the thing…as a freelancer I knew I was on the fringes. I knew that I would not be working if I didn’t pitch something really good after the story I was working on. I was never on staff, but I had a CBC Radio business card. At best, I was a contract player who could pick up the phone and preface a conversation with a potential interview subject or story contact with “Hello. I’m Trevor Hughes with CBC Radio.”  Like Al Pacino’s line in The Insider if you take the ‘with CBC Radio’ out of that sentence, no one returns your phone calls…or emails.

At least for awhile.

For the last five years I’ve been using that journalism experience and freelancer mentality in the field as I’ve been travelling the province and beyond on my Kawasaki KLR650. It is paying off. People weren’t at first, but they are returning my phone calls and emailing back. It does take time, but I’m enjoying a connection with my home province I haven’t experienced before…and enjoying the ride.

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