Ever taken a freshly restored bike out for a spin through some wild backcountry? My last ride was a classic ’69 Triumph through the Rockies—thought I’d bring the chaos.

It was rougher than a jazz solo. The engine hissed, the chain shook, and the bike kept shuddering like a drum line. Snow piled up on the frame, the brake lines froze a bit, and I had to keep shifting the throttle to keep the engine from stalling. I ended up crawling up a ridge at 10,000 feet, the wind whipping around the saddle, and I didn’t get any selfies—just the horizon and a good story to tell. The only thing I managed to record was the hum of the motorcycle and the crunch of snow under the tires. It was freedom, but not the kind you get in a studio.