I have motorcycles. A bunch. New ones, old ones. And I ride a lot, nearly every day. Short, far, sometimes for months at a time. Riding is its own unique sensation and operation, and I think that’s why I enjoy it so much. Sometimes if I ride long enough, it even feels like I’m flying. I wonder what it’s like to fly — don’t you? Maybe you know, maybe you’re a pilot or fly recreationally. I would love to know what it’s like. The floating feeling, the perspective, the working and mastering of a complex machine, it’s all so alluring. There are plenty of different methods — from commercial jets and bush planes to hang gliding and hot air balloons. The countless methods of flying all offer something unique.
Recently, my partner and I were riding the BMW in North Georgia around Helen and the surrounding mountains. Specifically, we were here to see the 51st annual Helen to the Atlantic Hot Air Balloon Race & Festival.
“From the Center of the world to the edge of the Earth” is the tagline for the event. The race aspect of it all is fascinating. Who knew hot air balloons could race?
“The race begins in Helen and the finish line is I-95, anywhere between Maine and Miami. The shortest distance is 225 miles and the race usually takes two days. It has been done in one day, while some races have taken as many as four days.
Before this, we’d never seen hot air balloons. Sure in photos, but never in person. And what an experience it was to witness them in real life. Giant toys. Colorful, fun patterns. Noisy, too. We witnessed the whole process from unloading the hauler to watching the massive envelopes fill with hot air and lift gently off the ground. We were entranced. There was something magical about the simplicity of their flight. No engines, no turbines, just heat and air. The motions of it all were captivating.
Watching the balloons float into the sky, I couldn’t help but daydream about being up there. The slow, steady ascent felt akin to the way I sometimes drift on the bike — cruising around mountain roads, with the landscape rolling out in front of me like a painting. With motorcycling they say “go wherever the road takes you.” I wonder if with hot air balloons they say, “you go wherever the wind takes you.”
There’s something about motorcycles that almost conjures the feeling of flight. For me, a good bit of that comes from the engine. Sitting atop internal combustion, the fumes, the noise, the feedback from the engine roaring alive. Then, takeoff. The sensation of navigating through space, completely exposed, as wind rushes by and the world blurs beneath your feet.
Operating a motorcycle is an intricate dance, much like I imagine flying must be. It demands total engagement — hand, eye, and foot coordination, with the added need for mechanical precision beneath you. For me, both also represent a sort of freedom. There’s visceral feedback from the elements, and it’s a thrilling way to go anywhere. At its core, it’s extraordinary the way a machine and human can sync into one fluid motion. It’s impressive that we’ve engineered such elaborate vehicles to be simple enough to learn to operate and use daily.
I’m not exactly sure where wanting to learn to fly originally stemmed from. I’m not even sure how I first really got into the idea of motorcycles. Maybe it’s a little bit of boys and their toys, but I do want to play with everything. Aside from airplanes and bikes, there’s plenty of other things I’d like to learn to operate: a forklift, a semi truck, cranes, bulldozers, trains even a Zamboni. There’s just this allure that exists of mastering another machine — learning its quirks, understanding its physics…
I only own brands of motorcycles that also produce cars. Honda and BMW. Just goes to show they’re masters of machines. Honda made motorcycles first before producing cars. And I’m sure we’re all familiar with the origin of BMWs airhead motors and their aircraft legacy.
While the BMW I have is the F650 GS, a single cylinder chain driven model, it sports a Rotax made engine, a company known for their aircraft power plants. It’s funny, of all my bikes, the BMW provides the most flying-like sensation. It’s a unique bike. It loves being near the top of its revs, making 50hp around 6k rpm and 62nm of torque. It’s a thumpy single, yet the engine is refined and power is smooth. The bike is thin and agile, the weight is down low, you sit atop the fuel tank, really providing a floating sensation. It’s a great bike that’s done it all for me.
But our time in Helen wasn’t all about the balloon festival. We of course spent some time riding through the surrounding Appalachian foothills. There’s nothing like hitting the twisty backroads of Georgia, especially with the Blue Ridge Mountains in view. The roads rise and fall, winding through dense forests and opening up to expansive views of the valleys below. Sometimes, it felt like I was riding in the clouds, with the mist hovering over the tree line, the cool air rushing past — my version of flying.
We found a campsite along a river, a secluded spot where we parked for the night. As the sun set and the sky dimmed, the sound of nearby rivers filled the air. There’s something incredibly grounding about spending time outdoors. We love it. We lit a small fire, cooked dinner, and let the sounds of nature hum us to sleep. And that night I dreamt of flying.
Riding around Helen that weekend gave me plenty of time to think about it. We passed through small mountain towns, the scent of pine and campfires hanging in the crisp air. We stopped at overlooks, took photos, and just sat quietly, appreciating the view. On the road, I felt the familiar tug of adventure, the constant pull to keep going, to explore just one more curve, one more mile. But this time, as we rode back into town after a long day, I wasn’t just thinking about the roads ahead. I was thinking about the skies above, and how, one day, I’d like to be up there, too. If it weren’t for motorcycles, I probably wouldn’t have the desire to learn to fly. I guess bikes are a gateway drug to other hobbies.
For now, though, motorcycles will do. They’ve taught me how to fly in their own way. They’ve given me the thrill of navigating a complex machine, the joy of exploration, and the satisfaction of conquering the road. Maybe one day I’ll learn to operate an airplane. Until then, I’ll be riding, feeling the wind in my face and the ground beneath me, dreaming of the day when I can finally fly.
