Lone Wolves

[Originally published in the BMW Riders Association “On The Level” magazine, July 2025. I used to be the Editor in Chief/Chief of Content there. It’s a good group of BMW enthusiasts. If you own a BMW, consider joining]

I see it every year, groups of riders streaming through the main entrance gate of the BMW Riders Association National Rally and heading to their group camping spot. There is an air of camaraderie among them – inside jokes, congenial ribbing, “Remember when …” storytelling. It’s great to see. And I envy them a little bit. Because I am often a lone wolf.

I always imagined that there was a sense of rugged independence and individuality that came with being a lone wolf. After all, we’re lone wolves, not lost sheep. We roam the roads alone, watch the landscape alone, set up camp alone, and ride to rallies alone, answering to nobody but ourselves. No debating what route to take. Just ride until our bladders or stomachs or gas tanks tell us to take a break. We lone wolves are the strong, silent type. Or just the silent type.

For some though, the lone wolf life is thrust upon them. I’ve heard stories of riding groups withering with the passing of time, riding partners giving up the sport, retirement and moving away, and life throwing unexpected knuckleballs.

But there’s a third category of lone wolves that we don’t talk about much – those who ride as lone wolves but wish they weren’t so … alone. Everything we need to travel – directions, hotels and campgrounds, gas stations, weather reports, towing services, etc. – is in our phones so there’s no real need to strike up random conversations. At meals, staring at a phone at a bar or restaurant is the new normal. And with bikes more reliable than in years past, there are fewer opportunities for strangers to stare at a bike that won’t start.

Now, a quarter of the way through this century, it seems like we’ve built a world where it’s easier than ever to be a lone wolf, not just on a bike but in real life. Why go to the store when there’s free shipping? Why go to the shared experience of a movie theater when you have a big TV, your favorite chair, cheap beer, and several streaming services at home? Why eat at a restaurant when someone can bring the food to your door? Why even answer the door when your doorbell has a camera?

It’s so easy to be a lone wolf these days that more and more people are falling unwittingly into the “lifestyle.” They say that there’s a loneliness epidemic right now, and after five minutes in a cafe with everyone staring at screens, I believe them.

It’s not entirely new – they’ve been making movies about the alienation of modern life since the ’60s. The Graduate was the story of a young man rejecting the comfortable but emotionally empty upper middle-class world that he was born into. The Matrix and Fight Club are commentaries on the illusions of modern life.

I recently watched the documentary Join or Die about the work of political scientist Robert Putnam. Putnam entered the public consciousness with his book Bowling Alone (2000) that analyzed the impact of decreased civic engagement on societies. Putnam’s theory, if I can cobble it together, is that civic and social organizations – bowling leagues, book clubs, and clubs like the BMW RA – are important threads in the fabric of a society because they can bring people of diverse backgrounds together for a common interest. Putnam argues that the decline of clubs like ours over the last several decades has led to an increased polarization of ideas and of society.

Looking out at the world today, I think Putnam was right. With clubs and civic participation in decline, many seem to be retreating into their own spaces, literally and virtually, surrounding themselves with agreement. Learning how to respectfully disagree and co-exist is a dying art, even in our little corner of the world. Especially online. Discussions about the design of the new R 1300 GS Adventure are more heated online. Merely mentioning engine oil raises blood pressures around the world. In real life, most of us have filters and know when to back off. Online, we’re yelling at clouds.

So here we are, an increasingly alienated and polarized society interacting in a digital world that seems to tear things apart more than it joins them together, more lone wolves than ever. Maybe we are, after all, lost sheep?

That’s why it’s so comforting to walk around the national rally and see humans … being human. I see familiar faces and I strike up conversations with strangers about their bike, their camping setup, whatever. Small talk. And in those moments, this lone wolf feels less alone. I’m sure that we all don’t hold the same views on the topics that get people worked up online, but that’s okay. We manage.

Conversations, the best ones at least, are dances, tails of dragons, that twist and turn and educate and entertain all at once, that build trust and respect among willing partners. I hope to have one with you soon. And I hope that we all do.