Choosing a new motorcycle is one of life’s great dilemmas—right up there with love, tattoos, and what whisky to order on a stormy night. It’s a decision laced with emotion, nostalgia, and desire. It’s not merely about finding a machine that will take you from point A to point B. It’s about picking the right companion for the road ahead—something that speaks to your soul, suits your lifestyle, matches your riding style, and, just maybe, makes your heart race when you open the garage door in the morning.

There’s a certain joy that begins the moment you decide it's time for a new bike. It could be after years on the same machine, or perhaps the old girl has simply worn out her welcome. Maybe you’re itching for more power, more refinement, or a complete change in riding style. Whatever the trigger, the moment the hunt begins, you enter a feverish state—trawling through bike reviews, YouTube channels, forums, social media feeds, and even blurry photos from European bike shows just to catch a glimpse of what might be the one.

The early stage is exhilarating. You’re dreaming, imagining. Every bike you see on the road suddenly becomes a candidate. That guy on the Multistrada—you could be him. That café-racer girl at the lights—maybe that’s your future. One moment you’re lusting after a hyper-naked speed demon, the next you’re romanticizing about long-haul adventures across the country on a dual-sport tourer with a big tank and bigger dreams.

But that joy quickly gives way to a kind of emotional torture. Because narrowing it down is hard—agonizing, even. You start to develop relationships with bikes you’ve never even seen in person. You fall for the lines of the new Triumph Speed Triple but then get seduced by the brooding menace of a Ducati Monster. You convince yourself the GS is the practical choice, only to daydream about the wail of a Yamaha R1 through the tunnels. Each test ride only makes it worse. You’ll fall in love for an hour, only to find some flaw—a seat that feels like a brick, a clutch that’s too heavy, a dash that looks like it’s from the '90s. You go home, still undecided but more confused than ever.

And then there’s the identity crisis. What kind of rider am I now? Am I still the weekend scratcher who wants to rip up the mountain roads at dawn? Or have I mellowed into someone who just wants comfort, storage, and cruise control? Maybe I’m a retro guy now. Or maybe I’m not. You start wondering if choosing a bike is really about who you are—or who you want to be. That internal struggle seeps into everyday life. You’re distracted at work. You zone out during dinner conversations. You even start dreaming in revs and gear changes.

The people around you notice. Friends roll their eyes when you bring up torque curves again. Your partner sighs when another parcel arrives—this time a brochure, or perhaps a scale model of a bike you’re currently obsessing over. But the truth is, no one can help. This is your journey. Your decision. Your future ride.

Every motorcycle brings with it a promise. It’s not just a machine—it’s a lifestyle, a tribe, an attitude. That makes choosing even harder. Buy a Harley and you’re pledging allegiance to a certain kind of brotherhood. Pick a KTM and you better be ready for some off-road madness. Go Japanese and you get dependability, technology, and a bulletproof experience—but will it stir your soul like a temperamental Italian? Each option comes with baggage and benefits. And with each tick of the clock, your indecision grows.

Then comes the sensory element—the torture of the senses. The feel of the throttle. The weight of the bike beneath you. The sound of the exhaust note—will you still love it after 10,000 kilometers? You watch videos of engine notes at 3 a.m., just to hear that raspy bark one more time. You find yourself pressing your ear against your phone like some lovesick teenager listening to a mixtape.

At some point, you'll likely make a spreadsheet. Power-to-weight ratios. Service intervals. Seat height. Fuel tank size. You convince yourself this is logical, methodical—even scientific. But deep down, you know the truth. You’re going to buy the one that gives you that feeling. Logic be damned.

And then, the day comes. You sign the papers, swing a leg over, and take off. All that pain, all that indecision—instantly worth it. As the engine rumbles beneath you and the wind hits your shoulders, the doubts melt away. You know you made the right choice. Or maybe not. Maybe a small part of you still wonders if you should’ve gone with the other one—the one with the spoked wheels and the slightly better dash. But you’ll never say that out loud. Because now, this is your bike. And bikes, like people, are imperfect. But they’re perfect for us in their own, flawed way.

There’s a strange masochism to this whole process. You both dread and savour the indecision. The days spent clicking through reviews, the conflicting opinions, the test rides in the rain—it’s all part of the pilgrimage. It tests your patience, challenges your ego, and forces you to ask questions about who you are and where you want to go. That’s why picking a new motorcycle feels so monumental.

Because at the end of the day, it’s never just about the bike. It’s about your place in the world. It’s about finding a machine that speaks to your inner self, one that reflects your current chapter or the one you want to write next. It’s about freedom, passion, and identity—all wrapped in steel, rubber, and attitude.

So yes, choosing a new motorcycle is torturous. It’s emotional, exhausting, and occasionally soul-destroying. But it’s also one of the most rewarding decisions a rider can make. Because when you finally find the one, when everything clicks and the open road lies ahead, you remember why you went through all that pain. For the joy. For the ride. For you.

My mate Haydn shops here all the time

There's nowt like a plate of bangers n beer

The Buller Gorge is motorcycle heaven

What a great image, what a motorcycle.

To all my loyal readers, fellow riders, dreamers, tinkerers, and lovers of speed,

This post comes to you later than I’d ever intended. I know many of you noticed the silence and wondered where the throttle had gone. The truth is, the last few weeks I lost four people—four friends, and welcomed one new life into the world

They weren’t just names or passing friends. These were people I shared my life with, drank beers with. laughed with.and generally had a good time with. They were part of the rhythm of my life—each of them a distinct gear in the machine that’s powered so much of my passion for motorcycling. 

That’s why this post comes later than expected. I simply didn’t have the words, nor the heart, to fire up the keyboard. But now, as I sit here surrounded by photos, tools, and memories, I realize the best thing I can do—for them and for all of you—is to keep writing, keep riding, and keep sharing what makes this two-wheeled life so special.

This blog has always been more than just a collection of motorcycle reviews, stories, and snapshots. It’s been a place to celebrate the machines we love, the roads that call to us, and the people we meet along the way. The joy of opening up a throttle on a clear morning.  That’s what this has always been about.

To my readers, thank you. For sticking around, for sending messages of support, and for reminding me that this blog means something beyond myself. Whether you’re riding a Ducati through the mountains, a Guzzi through the suburbs, or simply dreaming of the next ride from your workshop bench—you’re part of this community, and I’m grateful for every one of you.

So, I’ll be back soon with more tales, more bikes, more madness. For now, ride safe, look out for your mates, and never take a single ride for granted.

Catch you on the road.