Riding the Oregon coast with seven buddies, each mounted on vintage Harleys and custom choppers, was a trip that felt like stepping back in time. The ride was unlike any other, as we clocked hundreds of miles a day, tracing the rugged coastline through cold fog and under towering redwoods. The sound of roaring engines echoed off the cliffs, while the Pacific Ocean’s waves crashed below, sending salty mist into the air.
Staying in motels instead of camping was a new experience for me—one that felt oddly out of place yet oddly fitting. These weren't the cozy, picture-perfect roadside inns you see in postcards. They were the kind of places where the carpets smelled like they hadn’t been cleaned since the ‘70s, and the beds were hard enough to make you long for the ground outside. The air was thick with the scent of stale cigarettes and cheap air freshener, and the folks hanging around seemed as much a part of the scenery as the peeling wallpaper.
The ride itself was full of surprises, some more welcome than others. As we rounded a bend, a log truck barreled down on us, its driver seemingly in a rage, forcing us onto the shoulder. We managed to keep our bikes upright, but the adrenaline was running high. That wasn’t the only bit of drama—we had a minor breakdown, too. One of the choppers started sputtering, and we had to pull over. With some quick thinking and a bit of roadside tinkering, we were back on the road in no time, the rumble of our engines filling the crisp air once again.
The scenery was nothing short of breathtaking. We rode through coastal towns where time seemed to stand still, spotted wild deer grazing by the road, and even found a seafood shack where the clam chowder was to die for. The fog was a constant companion, wrapping us in a damp embrace that made the warmth of our leather jackets and gloves all the more appreciated.
Meeting other bikers on the road, some from as far as the East Coast, reminded us of the universal brotherhood that comes with riding. Despite the challenges, there was a sense of camaraderie and adventure that made this trip one for the books. Having a hot shower, a bed, and even some late-night TV was a strange, almost luxurious twist to the rugged lifestyle I’m used to. It was different, but in a way that made me appreciate the journey all the more.
This ride along the Oregon coast was a blend of old-school vibes, rough edges, and the undeniable beauty of the open road—a reminder that every ride, no matter how tough, is a story waiting to be told.
