The world flies by. Or, more accurately, Vermont does. I’m on the back of our treasured motorcycle, riding with friends through our brave little state. The roads are winding, the paths are twisted, and the streets are super cute. We can ride for miles and miles and miles and somehow always see something completely different.
Sometimes, we get a perfectly paved road that has somehow made it cleanly through the winter, and we can enjoy the smooth feeling underneath the tires. But let’s be honest, it’s more about missing the frost heaves than riding that smooth line. Or finding an even more crazy adventure as we check out the miles of dirt roads throughout the state.
But I’m not driving. I’m riding. I promised my dad years ago that I would never ride my own. I don’t have that kind of long-term attentiveness. I am morea of a—hey, did you see that?!—kind of girl. So, I ride on the back, very happy to give the steering and my safety over to the BF, who is one of the smoothest riders I’ve ever seen.
And being on the back of a bike, I get to see a lot of things. First, I get to watch the other riders in front of us. How they take the corners, how they sit on their bike when they wiggle or stretch their legs over a 200 or even 300-mile day. I love watching the flow so much that we even watch MotoGP races all winter long.
What I’m really here for in Vermont. Our beautiful state in all its glory, the rolling hills unfolding as we come around a corner, following the path of a river as she winds along. I know how Vermont feels, what she truly looks like, and how she changes from Brattleboro all the way to Derby.
I have taken to studying different aspects of Vermont as we ride along. One day, I studied windows, looking to see how many “witches’ windows” I could spot. On another, I studied roof lines and how different areas have different styles. Did you know there’s a town that has several container homes—and each one is completely different? Such a fun architectural study. I swear, no two homes in Vermont are alike. A challenge for a town lister but a wonder for a student of architecture and a Realtor like me.
On one ride, I focused entirely on the front doors. Were they covered with a storm door made of solid wood? What colors were folks choosing for their main entrance, and what kind of planters had they chosen for decorations? How many Vermonters had a traditional front porch, and how many were Revolutionary War-era stone buildings? There are just as many front doors as there are Vermonters. I love it.
Last ride, I was doing research for my perennial garden. I have a beautiful, shady border that I’m developing, but the hosta plants are not enough. I wanted variety—different colors and textures to bring character and beauty to my garden —and the best way to achieve that is to study all the gardens as we ride along. Actually, I tend to do a garden study once a month so that I can see what plants are popping at different points. If we go south, I am reminded of what is about to bloom and can get excited. As we ride north, a few more hours with plants that have passed their time.
We meet every week for a new adventure—a new sandwich shop, a new ice cream place—and, of course, new roads. There is so much to see throughout the state it almost makes me sad that I don’t leave town all winter. But that’s what makes it special. The world changes every season, every latitude or longitude, and even from neighbor to neighbor. It’s part of the beauty of the earth that every mountain is unique, no valleys meander in the same way.
Even our bikes are different. This past ride, none of us rode a bike similar to the others. In fact, I have never seen folks confuse their motorcycle for someone else’s in the field of bikes. Go to Laconia or Americade, and you will never see the same motorcycle twice. Even all those trikes look different if you really look at them. We spent a week in Sturgis, South Dakota, at the largest bike rally in the world and didn’t see the same bike twice.
Diversity, in all things, is what makes our motorcycle adventures— and life—so much fun. Different bikes, different roads, different homes—we might all be different in our own ways, but we all love our brave little state and our lives here and wouldn’t want to live anywhere else.
Merisa J. Sherman is a long-time Killington resident, global real estate advisor, municipal official, and Coach PomPom. She can be found on social @femaleskibum or at [email protected].
