If you’re looking to get inspired to get onto wheels this year or maybe even to start planning that road trip of a lifetime with your motorcycle then look no further than one of the most incredible women on two wheels – the amazing Tamara Raye- Wilson.
Whether it’s road ripping or desert sled dirt riding Tamara is never far from material stayed and has lived in incredible life around motorcycles over the last few years. As self described “nerdy type with a penchant for fast motos and loud music” she’s, for us, one of the fastest, loveliest and inspiring women on two wheels! So who better to ask one of the biggest questions “Why do you ride?” ….And when we did, mannnn did we get one incredible essay back.
Read on and we dare you to not want to get on two wheels and ride into the sunset whether that’s on a long winding road or in a cloud of desert dirt.
THE INFINITE UNKNOWN -
BY TAMARA RAYE - WILSON
Over the years I have been told numerous times that my motorcycle endeavours, primarily riding ageing or oversized bikes to wildly inappropriate places off the grid, aren’t based in reality. In varying ways, I was told to stay closer to home, spend less time alone, or to participate in ‘normal’ hobbies. Perhaps there is some mystery as to how one would be able to juggle the daily expectations of a demanding career with an insatiable addiction to high-mileage, remote motorcycle trips. How is it possible to magically re-appear in one piece at work on Monday morning with no trace of a two-wheeled trek other than a mild sunburn and some residual dirt under the nails? The way I see it, faraway places become less far away when you push farther and faster on each and every journey.
TAMARA RAYE FOR ATWYLD
So the truth is, those that say you are not facing reality actually mean that you are not facing their idea of reality. We are all multiple versions of ourselves, a beautifully complex novel of chapters occurring simultaneously like a ‘choose your own adventure’ story. Herein lies the reason why I ride. I didn’t begin riding motorcycles in order to escape reality, but rather to create a new one borne of my own curiosity- embracing history, the duality of life, and particularly the unknown.
When I began riding motorcycles over ten years ago, I was brimming with inspiration from decades-old footage of Bud Ekins racing scrambles and Gary Nixon at the Ascot Half Mile. My imagination was working overtime visualising a blurry yellow and black filmstrip motif Yamaha whizzing by, piloted by King Kenny Roberts himself. I quickly purchased a 1975 XS650 ‘café’, the closest I could come to the legends of the past within my meagre first-bike budget. I soon began to call the little upright parallel twin Yamaha my ‘starter Triumph’. What I realistically ended up with was a very quirky old machine, and a one way ticket down the vintage motorcycle rabbit hole. My inextinguishable love affair with old iron began at that exact moment.
It wasn’t until I began racing vintage motocross and flat track on a 1972 Yamaha DT2-MX250 and 1966 Triumph T100C that those in my day-to-day life outside of motorcycling began to ask questions. Eyebrows were raised over surfacing photos of risky activities at the track, or my hobbling through the office with an injury after a race. Mind you, I am a mechanical engineer at Disneyland and work in a role that requires me to evaluate life-safety critical systems on a daily basis. There are certain expectations of not only your outward appearance, but also of how you live your life outside of work too. Extracurricular activities should be evaluated for inherent risk, and safety considered the highest priority. So, for many years I kept my two-wheeled escapades as separate as I could from my professional career; I felt like Dr. Jekyll and Mr. Hyde, torn between two worlds.
That feeling was only exacerbated once I started to venture further on modern scramblers and vintage British bikes, as if they were meant to be ridden like purpose-built ADV or dirt bikes. I felt an instant fascination with chucking heavy misfit machines through the dirt, of riding point A to point B in the most inefficient manner possible. There is something so alluring about meandering along a series of unknown trails, like gambling on a sure bet. Dirt is the most fun, regardless of whether or not you find something spectacular at the end of the line! Nevertheless, riding in this grey-area discipline created an unintended separation between me and my riding buds that preferred more traditional road trips or track days.
“I saw friends less and less, as my dusty wheels chased sunset after sunset somewhere I hadn’t seen the sun set before. I was often alone, but never lonely, as I began to feel a deep gratitude for each passing mile.”
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It was at this point, that I began to understand what the journey had been teaching me all along. I reflected upon those countless hours spent alone in the saddle, pep-talking myself through a difficult stretch of trail, singing joyfully inside my helmet, or staring silently in awe at the vastness and beauty of the terrain. These ordinary machines are capable of creating extraordinary magic, which proved to be the best teacher I could have ever imagined. They taught me that I am whole, despite my bifurcated personal and professional passions in life. I’ve learned that the differences between my friends and I make our bonds even stronger, as we learn from each other what we do not yet know. I’ve learned that my introverted nature allows me to appreciate the importance of talking less and listening more to the people and places that surround me. I’ve embraced the fact that I cannot control every outcome, and surrendering to the unknown opens infinitely more doors that it closes. Motorcycles have conveyed me to countless destinations, and the journey itself brought me to arrive at who I am.
