In 2026, I re-engaged with a long-standing passion: adventure motorbiking.
Not as an escape.
Not as nostalgia.
But as an experiment.
Life is a laboratory, after all.
And this time, the laboratory had two wheels.
1. Preparation Is Not Overthinking
Before buying the bike, I didn’t rush.
I researched.
Which bike?
Second-hand or new?
Who should I buy from?
Reputable dealer or unknown seller?
Initially, I leaned toward second-hand. It felt sensible and economical.
But the deeper I researched — reliability, hidden risks, long-term maintenance — the more my thinking evolved. Gradually, I shifted toward buying new.
The decision wasn’t impulsive. It was iterative.
Research → Reflection → Adjustment → Decision.
Motorbiking reminded me that preparation is not fear.
It is respect — for the road, for risk, and for reality.
2. Reduce Complexity Early
Before my first long ride, I studied the route carefully.
I knew the way out of Nairobi.
I knew how to pass through Ngong town.
I checked the junctions.
I reviewed fuel stops.
On day one, I did not want to layer “getting lost” on top of “getting comfortable riding again.”
There was no confusion.
No unnecessary stress.
Just focus.
Lesson:
When starting something new, remove avoidable uncertainty. Build confidence progressively.
This applies to careers, projects, and reinvention just as much as motorbiking.
3. Bring the Right Kit
I brought everything I needed:
Protective gear.
Rain layer.
Tools.
Navigation ready.
Preparedness creates calm.
You ride differently when you know you are equipped.
And you live differently too.
4. The Road Less Travelled Is Often Better
Some of the most memorable moments were not on the main highways.
They were on the back roads.
The alternate Suswa route instead of the busier Naivasha road.
A detour into Menengai Crater.
Trying to find Lord Egerton Castle.
Small roads with little traffic and big sky.
The minor routes were quieter.
More beautiful.
More human.
They required attention.
But they rewarded curiosity.
Lesson:
Efficiency is not always richness.
The fastest route is rarely the most meaningful one.
5. Conversations Matter
Motorbiking strips away insulation.
You stop to ask for directions.
You chat.
You connect.
At different stops, ordinary Kenyans offered guidance, encouragement, and humour. Even brief conversations in Swahili transformed simple exchanges into moments of genuine connection.
On a bike, you are exposed — to wind, to weather, to people.
There is no glass barrier.
And that vulnerability creates connection.
Lesson:
When you slow down enough to ask, the world becomes more generous.
6. Most of My Fears Never Happened
Before riding longer distances again, my mind rehearsed scenarios:
What if the bike breaks down?
What if I misjudge traffic?
What if I regret the purchase?
What if I’m not as capable as I once was?
The mental movie was dramatic.
Reality was far calmer.
The bike performed well.
The roads were manageable.
People were helpful.
I coped.
Most of the catastrophic scenarios I imagined simply never materialised.
Motorbiking taught me something I already “knew” — but had not fully embodied:
The mind exaggerates risk. Experience corrects it.
Fear is often a story.
Action is often the cure.
The Bigger Lesson
Motorbiking across Kenya has reminded me of a simple framework:
Plan carefully.
Prepare thoroughly.
Reduce unnecessary risk.
Then take the side road.
Talk to strangers.
Explore the crater.
Try the alternate route.
And discover that most fears never happen.
Life is not mastered in theory.
It is practiced.
The road has become one of my favourite classrooms.
And this journey is only beginning.
Continue the experiment
These reflections are part of an ongoing journey — on the road and in life.
You can follow the adventures, lessons, and real-world experiments on my YouTube channel:
👉 Thinking on Two Wheels
https://www.youtube.com/@ThinkingonTwoWheels
Because life is a laboratory — and sometimes the classroom has two wheels.
