Film: 'On Any Sunday' (1971)

This is a really lovely film. Directed and narrated by the brilliant Bruce Brown, king of the surf movie, it captures a few glorious, golden (and sometimes mud-stained) moments in the exhilarating world of motorcycle racing. From the surreal beauty of the Bonneville salt flats to the frigid wastes of Quebec in winter; from Florida to Spain; from thigh-deep mudholes to the 30-degree banks of the Daytona speedway, on any Sunday, someone, somewhere, is racing - some to win, some for the hell of it, some because they can, and some because they can't imagine doing anything else. As a fan of both two-wheeled vehicles and those very sweet-natured early-'70s sports documentaries, I delighted in the joyful tone of Brown's celebration of all levels of racing, from the mesmerisingly hair-raising high speed AMA championship events to the ridiculously silly (though still hair-raising) Widowmaker hill climb event. Whether or not you care much for motorbikes or racing, I think it's nearly always a pleasure to watch people who are very, very good at something perform, and this is a prime example of why:

Book: Lois Pryce 'Lois on the Loose' (2007)

This is what I call a three-hour book; an adventure story both ripping and gripping, and a thoroughly enjoyable one at that. I gobbled it down in an afternoon, with lavish amounts of enjoyment despite only having been able to find an irritating large-print edition. This is absolutely my favourite motorcycle book to date (and I've read quite a few), owing largely to the delightful nature and circumstances of the author. Lois is lovely! Her wicked sense of humour and lust for the road, combined with her endearing love for the very sort of small motorcycles that I myself adore and her rather excellent style of writing, make her the best sort of person to write a book about a madcap motorbike trip from Alaska to Argentina. It's lovely the way she doesn't take herself too seriously and isn't afraid to tell a few stupid stories on herself; that sort of disarming openness makes me think very well indeed of her. It's also rather nice to read a motorcycle travel book by someone who wasn't running away from anything more than a slightly boring life.

I can't help comparing all the moto books I've read with one another, and though I enjoyed The Perfect Vehicle, am very glad I read Ghost Rider, and have a proper appreciation for Zen and the Art of Motorcycle Maintenance, there's a lot to be said for sometimes just reading a good story by a good-natured person who isn't particularly sad, doesn't feel sorry for herself (except when she's got food poisoning, and really, I think feeling sorry for oneself is de rigeur at such times), and doesn't let philosophy get in the way of letting herself have a rip-roaring good time. Highly recommended for anyone who likes reading adventures, whether or not you care about motorbikes!

Book: Melissa Holbrook Pierson 'The Perfect Vehicle' (1997)

Reading this was an interesting experience. I found myself in the unusual position of liking the book immensely while disliking the author intensely. I could feel no sympathy towards her desperate need for a man to look after her, particularly as she described over and over again how she would entrust her beloved motorcycle to an inept mechanic, knowing that she'd end up redoing his work afterwards, just because she felt like she had to have someone masculine do those things for her. Sh*t like that irritates me insanely, particularly coming from a talented, reasonably successful woman who has ridden thousands and thousands of miles alone and is physically, though apparently not emotionally, capable of taking care of herself and her machines.

I can't dislike her book though, because this lady knows exactly how to describe what makes riding so wonderful. She's a damned fine writer, and manages the neat trick of writing nonfiction that's as much of a pleasure to read as a great novel. All of the tips and tricks and facts and bits of history are so neatly laced together with beautifully polished words that I almost wanted to memorize half the book, just because I knew I'd never be able to say these things so well in my own words. Any motorcycle aficionado ought to enjoy this book, which encapsulates much of the sheer joy of riding, and every non-rider ought to read it so they can better understand the rider mindset (and hopefully keep a better eye out for us when they drive their cars).

Book: Neil Peart 'Ghost Rider' (2002)

This one's a bit of a tearjearker, the story of a man who lost absolutely everything and survived only by running away. It would be sad even if it weren't true - his daughter died, his wife died, his dog died, and his best friend went to prison - but it is true; all of that really happened to the author, who is also the drummer for Canadian band Rush. The book chronicles a series of impressively long motorcycle trips he took, through North and Central America, hoping that time, distance, and miles-put-behind would let him escape the shambles of his life. Apart from the tragic elements, it's a wonderful travel story; the collected letters and journal entries that he tied together with concise, illustrative reminiscences portray an astonishing number of km traveled, sights seen, and well-described fun roads ridden. He's a very good writer, in a concise, almost-journalistic sort of way. There is a little bit of a financial disconnect; as a reader accustomed to shoestring-budget travel, I did keep getting a bit hung up on all the expensive meals he ate and the way he could always afford to stay in good hotels, and his ever-growing collection of beautiful motorcycles. But hey - the man worked hard for his fortune, and I'm glad it was able to help him live through his troubles.

Highlight: one of the real pleasures of this book is reading about all the other books Peart, a voracious reader, consumed during his travels (I look forward to reading many of them myself).

Anime: 'Kino no Tabi' (2003)

I'm not particularly into anime, but I've loved this little series for years and years. It's one of the most thoughtful, philosophically interesting things I've watched, in addition to being very elegantly drawn in hazy, muted shades of mostly greens and browns. The protagonist, Kino (the series' title translates to 'Kino's Journey'), is an impressively androgynous young girl who travels the world on a talking Brough Superior motorbike, packing a small arsenal of rather classic guns to protect herself from ruffians. Kino and Hermes (the bike) never stay in one place longer than 3 days, so you can imagine how far they travel over the course of 13 episodes and 2 short films. A bit steampunk, a bit just plain anachronistic, the societies and technologies of their world range from exceptionally primitive to sci-fi futuristic. Human nature being one of the main topics, quite a few of the storylines are rather sad; the very best ones, though, project a rather beautiful sense of absolute wonderment at the sheer magic of existence and potential. The anime was based on a very popular series of Japanese light novels by Shigusawa Keiichi, which share the same name and are just as good as - if not better than - the show.