adventurelog Good times with good people By Shawn Thomas #91122


“SO, WHAT’S YOUR team name?” I gaped at her,


confused. “Ummm— team name? I have no idea. I’m with the folks from BMW, if that helps…”


She scrolled through her


paperwork. “Well, you’re the first one of them to register. So I guess you get to choose the team name! What shall it be?” I thought on it. For some rea-


son, choosing a team name seemed a big responsibility. Though from the look on the people waiting to register behind me, I thought it best to choose fast. “We’re Team BMW.” She smiled. “You know, most


teams are choosing a more tongue-in-cheek sort of name. You sure you want one so… serious?” “A fair point, but it’s not often I


get to say I’m competing on behalf of BMW, and I’m going to milk it for all it’s worth.” Another smile. “Okay Mr.


Thomas, welcome to the Cycle World Adventure Rally!” I collected my paperwork and


walked outside. It was mid-after- noon, and the Colorado weather was cooperating nicely. A few scat- tered clouds revealed rays of sunlight on the surrounding mountains, their tips dusted in white. I walked to my motorcycle, instinctively scanning for anything in need of attention. From the subframe, a gleam of metal revealed the axe-hammer I had zip- tied to the bike. I snorted a laugh. Such a tool would probably find a


52 BMW OWNERS NEWS October 2015 He shook my hand nervously. “I’m John.


John Douglass. My dealership sent me. I’m on your team and I know absolutely NOTHING about Adventure Riding, so…” He trailed off. I laughed. “No worries John, it’s my first


time, too.” John relaxed a little, offering a mocking


smile. “Aren’t you, like, Mr. Adventure? Don’t you tackle boulders and sand pits and


better home in my gear bag. It certainly was a conversation starter. “Are you Shawn?” I turned to find a man of average height,


his long, scraggly red beard mussed from helmet straps and wind. I extended a hand. “I am indeed! How can I help you?”


mud for a living?” “…And get nervous, and fall over like the


best of them, I assure you!” I smacked him on the shoulder. “We’re Team BMW, I’ll help you through it if you help me. Deal?” Soon our bikes were side by side, and we


busied ourselves with preparing them for the weekend. In theory, the competi- tion rules were simple: Teams would follow a map to waypoints hidden throughout the Colorado backcoun- try. Once at a waypoint, we would take a “Team Selfie” photo and post it on the social media website Insta- gram. Our Instagram accounts would be monitored, and points would be awarded based on distance traveled and difficulty of access to each way- point. The harder and longer the roads, the more points each team could earn. Soon our other teammates arrived.


Derek and Mark, both from BMW Marketing, rolled in on shiny new motorcycles on loan for the event. We shook hands and got to know one another. “These bikes are new, and it has been made clear that we have to bring them back in similar condi- tion,” Mark declared. “So we are hop- ing to keep the tip-overs to a minimum. Do you mind if we stick to the easy routes?” I nodded. John’s nod was more


vigorous. An official rushed our group to


orientation, already in progress. About a hundred participants were in attendance. We collected in the back, straining to understand the announcer as he detailed the weekend. It was hard to hear, only phrases like “Boulder Garden” and “Mud Crossings” rang through. I looked to John. He was a special shade of milk-white. “Dude. John. You look awful.” He looked at me, a strange lethargy


discovery


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