Would you say motorcycling is still rebellious?
I had to sit back and think about this for a while.
Back in the day, riding (or specifically touring) was very much ‘for me.’ Because, well, who else would it be for?! It wasn’t a concept that even required thought… It’s just what I (and I assume you) did. We toured.
Because we liked it.
There would usually be a camera tucked away in a top box. Or if you were really posh, a GoPro.
The shots my camera captured were meant for one thing – personal memories. At a push, I would show them to family, or occasionally, a close friend.
But somewhere along the line, the taking of those photos (and how I showed them) shifted.
When Touring Turned Into Performance
I started noticing it in my pre-tour planning. A few pins on the map were there purely because they were Instagrammable viewing points. Certain mountain passes made it on the itinerary because I’d seen them on social media – perfectly framed and filtered.
I still wanted those roads. Still wanted the ride. But I also wanted the shots.
The validation.
And that’s the strange part — because the shift was insidious. I didn’t even see it happening.
But looking back now, I realise I’d stopped planning experiences and started planning content instead.
Touring, like so many things, had become something to present to the world. An image. A campaign. A snapshot into my globetrotting life.
Exuberant. Extravagant. A performance.
I wrote more about this in Used Motorcycle vs New: Why I Bought a Used Bike in 2025. But the battered old bikes were replaced with shiny new ones that I could only afford on PCP. The freedom of the road was diluted by the thought of monthly payments, finance agreements, and the permanent dread of scuffing the paintwork.
I wasn’t chasing adventure. I was curating it.
And all of a sudden, rebellion became… risk assessment.
The Disguised Cost of Touring
There’s nothing inherently wrong with new bikes or top-of-the-range kit. I’ve owned both and they’ve taken me far.
But somewhere along the way, I noticed the joy was dulled. I was riding with the burden of keeping the bike pristine for the finance company. Watching the odometer like it mattered. Protecting the machine instead of enjoying it.
And freedom doesn’t live in that kind of calculation.
I used to pick routes because they looked fun or challenging — not because they were tagged as #epic on someone else’s feed.
These days, we all ride the same roads, post from the same viewpoints, and chase the same kind of glory. And none of it was ever really the point of touring.
And that’s okay — so long as we know that what we’re chasing isn’t freedom, but a perfectly curated substitute of it.
The Quiet Rebellion
But this isn’t a dig. Not really.
Because motorcycling is still rebellious. It’s just quieter now. And much more introspective.
In a way, it’s more important now than it’s ever been – because it takes courage. It means choosing to stay quiet in a world where everyone else is trying to be heard. Fighting for views. Seeking likes.
Rebellion is found in choosing the road that hasn’t been hashtagged. In riding 3,000 miles and telling no one. In letting the bike gather scratches, dents and stories — not because it’s neglected but because it’s used.
It’s found in imperfection. In independence. In knowing you did something for you – like you did back in the day.
The Way Back
If touring has started to feel more performative than personal, I get you.
And if you feel like something’s missing, it’s easy to think you’ll find it again by buying a brand-new bike. But I guarantee you won’t.
However, you will find it if you remember the reasons why you’re riding it in the first place.
I’m not saying you should ditch all your tech, throw away your phone, or pretend you can ride like it’s 1986.
It’s in subtle choices. Conscious ones.
Like choosing the ride over the reel. The shit over the polish. The moment NOW over the Instagram post later.
Freedom was never in the machine.
It was always in the way we used it.
If you enjoyed this more introspective post, you might enjoy the first Volume of our Quiet Tour Chronicles – a collection of short reflections on why we ride, how we ride, and the quiet truths we find.