Do you have any mental defects? Wait, what? That question was asked and answered when I hired a motorcycle in London. Something we’d all like to inquire during the course of our day, such a time-saving query. I’d never ridden a motorcycle. Bikes are dangerous. In fact, bikes rarely capture my imagination unless there are two people riding. Then I may wonder who they are, where they’re going and why they don’t have a car. So here’s what happened. I had a friend in town who’s pretty much Zen-and-the-Art-of-Motorcycles. He suggested a ride to the coast, and since he has the required license which is an absolute prerequisite, I agreed.

As a novice biker, I’m compelled to relay some first impressions. Beware: either everyone around you is oblivious to your presence and therefore trying to kill you, or they are genuinely curious about what type of person is riding. Hope for the later, assume the former. Sunshine and warm days are preferable. On a motorcycle, you are at the mercy and whim of the weather. Closer to nature than usual. Feeling the glorious elements, without the deceptive safety barrier and comfort of a metal frame. You and the road, not a metaphor. Going fifty miles per hour feels like the wind is playfully trying to unseat you. Sixty-four and the bike is fighting the air, unclear if you’re being thrust backwards or hurled toward your destination. Why do those cars have their wipers going, is it raining? Can’t feel it. Can’t see either. Seventy-three miles per hour and the wind is gently but firmly punching your shoulders in rhythmic cadence, left, right, left. Every muscle is ready, awareness levels on high alert. Fatigue reminds you to rest, replenish your fuel-levels and maybe take the opportunity to investigate your locale.

Turns out, motorcycles are cool; they can take you to another world or offer a new perspective on this one. Off the motorways, beyond the A-roads, that’s where you find the extraordinary. The British Isles are beautiful, especially the countryside. Picturesque, quaint, charming. Inns and pubs, pastures and fields, plus endless opportunities to follow the little brown signs that indicate an attraction of some description. A road trip to Brighton turned into a stop-over in Bognor Regis. That is the beauty of the open road and having only an intention in mind.

My fluid itinerary started in Wandsworth hiring a Suzuki from About Town, taking some refreshment in Surrey at The Cock Inn Pub & Dining and then onwards to the walks and views of the National Trust’s Box Hill. Not just a scene location in Jane Austen’s Emma, Box Hill is a summit of the North Downs, a ridge of chalk hills in southeast England that stretch from Farnham in Surrey to the White Cliffs of Dover in Kent.

Carefully traverse the aptly named Zig Zag Road and cruise toward Denbies Wine Estate or Summer’s Place Auction Ltd, an auction house specialising in garden statuary and natural history. Don’t miss the pretty market town and civil parish of Arundel, situated in a steep valley in West Sussex. With an immense castle and lovely shops, Arundel offers an ideal setting for some respite.

Some may scoff at Bognor Regis, a traditional seaside town but the reasonably priced, no-frills restaurant in the Navigator Hotel is welcoming and surprisingly lively, and nothing compares to sunrise on the coast.

Moral of my story: Travel your path anew. Drive a different route to work, walk or cycle, take the train. Abandon your routine. Avoid the familiar. Experience the world in a way that’s unusual for you, and love the journey.