4th of July - The most American of all American holidays. It’s one where almost everyone living in America has this sense of genuine joy. It’s the rare moment of the year that creates a sense of community in this highly dysfunctional, individualistic society. And what better way to enjoy America the beautiful, the freedom expounded by this sacred of summer holidays than to ride a motorcycle along the majestic California Pacific Coast and through the mountains that line up just alongside.

So this year (2019) I took the plunge. After a week of intense planning over Whatsapp with Sandy, a friend of mine from the days I lived in New York and who now lives in Oklahoma City, we plot the route along Pacific Highway (PCH). The destination at the end of a day of riding is Solvang, a small Danish oasis off the Santa Barbara coast. He flies over on the 4th with his fiancé for a night of feasting on the most un-American (or most American depending on how you look at it) spread of Haitian fried pork (griot), Indian lamb curry, Argentine chorizo and Mexican chips with salsa and guacamole.

Kickstands Up

We set out early morning of the 5th. I’m riding my 2011 Triumph Bonneville T100 and he’s rented a BMW R1200GS for the two of them. It’s a Friday after the 4th so almost everyone has taken a really long weekend off which meant almost no traffic here in Los Angeles. After a short stop at Philz Coffee in Santa Monica, we get going on PCH. Since this is our first long ride together, we plan short stops every 45 minutes or so to stretch, hydrate and enjoy the scenery.

Californication

Over the 140 miles or so, our rest stops are in different towns along the coast. Californian towns are an interesting lot. Some of them resemble the stereotypical hippie communes with vendors selling crystals and multiple offers for palm-reading by psychics along the streets. Others resemble what I call America Town - places that strive to fit the model of having the shopping mall as the city center. And then there’s Solvang. Nested in the Santa Ynez valley, this little Danish village makes you wonder if the original hipsters came out of here.

Rich in Danish bakeries and wineries serving wine from the vineyards around Santa Barbara, it was where we decided to call it a day of riding. Beaten from a day of riding at 60mph with winds beating down on you, ass sore from the little bumps in the road, fingers and calves stretched from shifting gears and braking, it felt great to drop down at the Pea Soup Anderson inn. A little vintage highway inn, harking back to the days of hippie road trips and serial killers in Santa Barbara in the 60s, it was a perfect end to the first leg of the trip on this sacred American holiday. We kick back, enjoy a bottle of wine and a light dinner of bread, butter and fries before crashing at the inn.

We set out early next day, starting with a caffeine fix, petting ostriches at a nearby ostrich and emu farm before taking the winding 150 from Ventura to go to Ojai. The ride through the mountains was exhilarating as we passed bikers going the other way exchanging the biker victory sign. Several high-speed twisties later, we are in Ojai, a town with an interesting mix of Harley bikers, hippies and hipster coffee shops. It’s a place I would definitely like to explore more. It had this energy about it that seemed almost eerily cultish. A place that would attract Charles Manson or Jim Jones. Following another caffeine fix and refueling our bikes, we set out for Malibu. To celebrate our return into Los Angeles, our late lunch was at Tony’s Taverna, a Greek restaurant serving fall-off-the-bone lamb and excellent pita with a caviar dip.

I finally got this item off my bucket list. I have always been fascinated with biker culture and none has been marketed better than America. The California ride in particular was one I’ve always wanted to do and it’s got me addicted to exploring other beautiful routes in this vast shopping mall.