Motorcycling with a man of means: Lemmy ups his style

Who wants to camp or cook dinner in a field or travel 800 miles in two days separated only by a night of hard drinking? Well... me. But let’s be honest, there is an easier way. Make everything easy, do nothing hard, and simply open your wallet a hundred times on a trip. Do I have the means to do this? Of course not. But bad decisions are my specialty, and I gotta write about something.

Mrs. Lem has recently been making sure I don’t come down with empty-nest syndrome. Her method is simple: She allows me zero time to become infected with that illness by making sure we are doing stuff, which I appreciate greatly. We were slated to take a few good trips this year, and I felt a little jaunt to New England was the perfect way to stretch the Versys’ legs on some vacation time under the guise of “work.”

As it turns out, I am apparently rich. Irresponsibly, I decided to pretend I was rich for a little bit.

September 10, 8:03 p.m.: Riding buddy texts foundational excuses for missing the only trip slated for this season. Shake head.

September 11, 6:11 a.m.: Riding buddy calls off definitively. Tell Mrs. Lem we’re on our own.

September 11, 7:03 a.m.: Sump pump wiring in basement faulty for umpteenth time. Electrician who has worked on this previously (after I failed) is proving either I am good enough to be a professional electrician or he is not; unsure which.

September 12, 8:15 a.m.: Am told we are emergency-level priority and electrician is en route. Realize we cannot leave as electrician will require someone to be present for letting in and paying. Note burning smell; not wiring. Vacation time going up in smoke.

September 12, 3:09 p.m.: Open wallet, pay electrician’s bill. Smell more burning. Vacation budget going up in smoke, too.

September 12, 3:10 p.m.: Rationalize house will not go up in smoke; decide to be happy about paying electrician’s bill and not insurance deductible. Pretend am rich.

September 12, 3:21 p.m.: Announce trip will no longer be feasible and scale back. Previously stated destination of New Hampshire struck from plan. (Standard. Last year, our trip to the Black Hills devolved into a romp around Wisconsin and the Upper Peninsula. Fun, but definitely short of intended destination.)

September 12, 3:23 p.m.: Ever wily, Mrs. Lem suspects I am perilously close to turning our days off into a long weekend of mowing, home repair, and repeating, “Don’t you feel better now that we knocked that out?” She begins furiously booking hotels throughout New York and Vermont and merrily announces everything is non-refundable and we’ll be leaving in the morning.

September 13, 9:04 a.m.: Awaken. Am told I am piloting one Very Fancy Versys and one Very Fancy Wife-Lady to Lake George, N.Y. Am also told because we are staying in a hotel I was permitted to sleep in that morning. Nice. This is how you vacation.

September 13, 9:05 a.m.: Am told since we are staying in a hotel and we are riding a bike that does not pee its fluid everywhere I may make use of the shower. 

September 13, 9:06 a.m.: Am instructed optional shower is not optional.

September 13, 9:07 a.m.: Take required optional shower.

September 13, 10:13 a.m.: Finish packing motorcycle, set off on trip. Am issued destination to put into GPS.

September 13, 10:52 a.m.: Purchase fuel. Walk into gas station; use ATM.

September 13, 2:16 p.m.: Arrive in Catskill, N.Y.

September 13, 2:18 p.m.: Rain arrives in Catskill, N.Y. Am told I will be sharing a salad and hot wings. Ignore rain, chow mightily, leave big tip. New sump pump wires, Fancy Motorcycle, remind self am Fancy Man. Wallet full from ATM visit. Attempt method acting as Fancy Rich Man to help professional career.

September 13, 3:42 p.m.: Yearn for nap, pull on rain gear. Am issued next GPS stop; am not told what I am aiming for on the grounds that “the surprise will be ruined.”

September 13, 6:14 p.m.: Take in vacation town of Lake George; spidey sense tingles as we approach tiki-themed hotel.

September 13, 6:15 p.m.: Suspicion confirmed. Tiki Resort is hilarious and gives me deep joy. Mrs. Lem announces she has found a dinner spot within walking distance so I may drink many beers.

September 13, 6:18 p.m.: Use ATM again.

September 13, 6:22 p.m.: Ponder seriousness of beer dilemma. Realize tour has become micro- and nano-brewery themed; most beers unavailable outside of immediate locales. Vow to rise to occasion; begin drinking many beers. Realize many beers require many trips from very nice waitress. Leave big tip; very rich.

September 14, 7:38 a.m.: Pack Fancy Versys saddlebag. Reconsider wisdom of many beers.

September 14, 7:42 a.m.: Need cash for chambermaid’s tip. Check wallet; no longer rich. Visit ATM in hotel.

September 14, 9:16 a.m.: Notice string of text messages from bank informing me of suspicious account activity. Make note to call bank and announce newfound wealth and lifestyle change.

September 14, 10:10 a.m.: Mendon, Vermont. Stop in at very popular breakfast joint; meet very nice RevZilla customers and talk for a while as we wait for a table. Drink many cups of coffee; after a very long time waitress has still not taken order. Wife becoming angry. Suggest we leave.

September 14, 10:21 a.m.: Face dilemma: cannot get check; do need to leave to eat food elsewhere. Leave Green Mountain Of Bills on table; proceed to actual Green Mountains.

September 14, 2:12 p.m.: Bennington, Vermont. Stop at brewpub. Wife’s stomach growling. Choose to not comment on scary growls.

September 14, 2:30 p.m.: Wife mollified; food delicious. Take out wallet; peel off more bills. #YOLO #richremember? 

September 14, 5:01 p.m.: Continue Very Fancy riding on Very Fancy Motorcycle along wonderful, wonderful roads. Becoming very rural as we approach destination.

September 14, 5:16 p.m.: Concerned about lack of actual town. Stop at ATM. Mentally note trip is also becoming tour of upstate New York cash machines. Wonder if ATM Touring is a sport Old Money Fancy People participate in often.

September 14, 5:25 p.m.: Cooperstown, N.Y. Pull into adorable bed and breakfast. Give wife hug, uncertain if OK to tell her she is doing better than Roaming Gnome at destination-picking.

September 14, 5:26 p.m.: Decide gnome comparison probably not OK even if well-intentioned. Remain quiet.

September 14, 5:25 p.m.: Examine Airbnb-style place; realize it is super posh and probably costing us a mint. Examine wallet; see cash, remind self am rich.

September 14, 5:27 p.m.: Bring Fancy Detachable Luggage into Fancy B&B.

September 14, 5:32 p.m.: Show wife photos I have taken of B&B. She asks if I am the listing agent. Stay cheery; overcome with Fanciness; repress urge to call wife gnome.

September 14, 5:47 p.m.: Field phone call from financial advisor. Cheerily tell him about vacation, inform him we are now rich. Financial advisor politely disagrees. Remember am Tycoon, order him to buy and sell stonks.

September 14, 6:15 p.m.: Take another mandatory optional shower with Very Fancy B&B soap.

September 14, 6:16 p.m.: Bask in Lilac Smells emanating from body.

September 14, 6:49 p.m.: Assess lay of land once outside B&B. Area sparsely populated. Mrs. Lem points across the road to absolutely adorable little red shed, which is apparently a brewery. We walk.

September 14, 6:50 p.m.: They have a food truck. Good! Only thing in sight, though. Potentially bad.

September 14, 6:51 p.m.: Secretly check Google Reviews. 4.7.

September 14, 6:51 p.m.: Hug wife. Remind self to not mention gnome.

September 14, 7:31 p.m.: Get to know entire beer menu.

September 14, 7:51 p.m.: Get to know entire staff.

September 14, 8:49 p.m.:  Exact moment I have more beer photos than I need for article.

September 14, 9:01 p.m.: Exact moment I realize I actually have more beer photos than I need for all the articles I’ll ever write for Common Tread.

September 14, 10:01 p.m.: Exact moment I become aware Lance will find so many beer photos strange and disorienting for readers.

September 14, 10:22 p.m.: Exact moment I become aware I feel strange and disoriented; suspect beer. No dinner likely contributing to effect. Bar tab worryingly high. Wife points to food menu. Bartender already looking at me and reports tab can be accessed at food truck. Remember am rich, go order food with wife from truck like proletariat commoner.

September 14, 10:55 p.m.: Filled with beer and wings and burger; realize we are only people in bar. Belch. Receive bartender’s stinkeye; add more bills to pile of cash on bar for good measure. Am benevolent upper class member of society.

September 14, 10:57 p.m.: Absentmindedly think of son’s tuition payment. Beer making finances not scary; normally finances very scary.

September 14, 11:04 p.m.: Remember have Fancy B&B Castle all to selves. Remind self not to compare wife to Travelocity Gnome.

September 14, 11:06 p.m.: Add William Shatner to “do not compare” list.

September 15, 12:22 a.m.: Stumble from shed bar under own power. Attempt to figure out if Fancy enough to sleep on bed; briefly consider floor.

September 15, 12:24 a.m.: Split difference; remove Fancy Pants and throw on floor; throw self in bed.

The next morning, Mrs. Lem and I saddled up on the Versys and headed home the long way. It was a lovely ride, and I’m glad she’s been A) forcing me to take so many lately and B) taking such an active role in planning the trips.

The Versys is an expensive (but fine) mount. Our trip, too, was just like the bike — expensive, but quite fine. We spent a few hundred bucks, which is not a king’s ransom, but it's not chump change, either. In reality, Mrs. Lem and I do OK-ish financially, but we still don’t really have the means to tour in this manner or on this motorcycle regularly. However, every once in a while, we can rent or borrow something cool and take a little ride and live it up a little, and that's pretty great.

It was fun and very good for us; my bride and I enjoyed each other’s company, many miles, some super-delish treats, and more than a few beers together. It wasn’t strenuous. That was the point. I recommend it if you have the means to take such a trip yourself. Not only is it exceptionally fun, but who knows when your last chance to do so might just be?

I don’t know if being rich is fun. I probably never will.

Pretending is fun, though.