The adventure of motorcycling often conjures images of exploring distant countries, winding back roads, rugged mountain passes, and unfamiliar cultures. But sometimes, the real adventure lies in the motorcycle itself. This is one of those stories.

Let me introduce you to my 1974 Norton Commando. I bought it on August 30, 1978, from Sportsmen’s Exchange in Milwaukee, Wisconsin, for the grand total of $1,200. It was an unusual shop that sold everything from sporting goods and chainsaws to outboard motors and motorcycles. I still have the original receipt to prove it.

One of the first things I did was try to turn it into a “chopper”—the style of the time. I added high-rise handlebars, a king-queen seat, a chrome sissy bar, and extended forks to give it that classic custom look.

Back in 1978, the Norton Commando was one of the fastest production motorcycles you could buy. I never lost a street race to a Harley or Triumph. But it wasn’t long before the Japanese motorcycle invasion changed everything. Once the fast two-stroke Kawasakis hit the American market, the era of British motorcycle dominance was almost over.

Almost exactly a year after buying this fine machine—in August of 1979—I met my wife, Deby. Our very first date was on this motorcycle. I can still picture the scene: me rolling up on the Norton, wearing a black leather jacket, long hair spilling out from under my Captain America helmet. I can only imagine what her dad must have thought.

Somehow, it worked out. That day marked the beginning of nearly 50 years of riding motorcycles together. Wow.

The Norton has been a wonderful machine, and together we’ve shared countless adventures across the United States. Deby rode on the back, often with camping gear strapped on, as we traveled from Wisconsin to the East Coast—and on another trip, all the way to Florida, carrying not only camping gear but also scuba diving equipment.

We’ve had our fair share of setbacks: breakdowns, flat tires, and more than one ride home on a trailer or tow truck. During my time touring with the band I played in, the guitar player and I both rode Nortons. We followed the band truck on tour through Texas, Iowa, the Dakotas, and back home again.

Flash forward nearly 50 years—I still have the Norton and have been working to restore it to its original condition.

For the past 15 years or so, I’ve been involved with a local group of Norton owners called the Northwest Norton Owners. It’s a motley crew of crusty bikers that have an affinity for these old British motorcycles. They’ve become some of our best friends and riding buddies. Many of them also ride modern motorcycles and we’ve had many great rides together. One of our adventures with them was documented in this blog in the series “Baja Virus Run“.

The club is part of a larger organization called the International Norton Owners Association, every year they have a rally in different parts of the country. For 2025 the location was Quincy, California. Should I ride my trusty Commando to the Quincy INOA Rally or not? That question had been on my mind since the rally location was announced almost a year ago. I asked around and talked to others in the club, but I didn’t hear the same enthusiasm I remembered from 2016 when a small group of NWNO die-hard riders made the trek. After some back and forth, I decided to tempt fate and ride the Norton the roughly one thousand miles to the rally. After all, how hard could it be? Here is a picture of the Norton in full touring mode.

My Commando is now nine years older since the last trip to Quincy but has never run better, thanks to loving care and diligent maintenance. I, on the other hand, am also nine years older. I’m still running okay, although my maintenance could be better, and a few parts are showing increasing signs of wear. Deby agreed to ride along on her modern BMW motorcycle. She joked (half-jokingly) that she would bring a camp chair and a book for the inevitable roadside wait due to a Norton breakdown. I hoped she would be disappointed on that count.

I spent time looking at routes and made a plan to get us to the rally by Sunday evening, in time for the official opening on Monday, June 16th. We rounded out our group of travellers with John and Tony. John planned to ride his Commando, while Tony would drive down with a trailer carrying a couple of motorcycles. Tony offered to follow us with extra gas and tools….just in case.

Ignoring superstition, on Friday the 13th at 8 AM sharp, we convened at the Preston Park and Ride, ready to ride. Due to last-minute problems with his Norton, John arrived on his 1972 R75/5 BMW, a very suitable bike for the trip. John made sure to point out that the engine was bored out to 900cc, making it the largest displacement motorcycle of the group. So, there we were, off to the Norton rally with my Norton motorcycle outnumbered two to one by BMWs. Somehow that seemed appropriate. Some years ago, there was a joke about the club that we are the Northwest Norton Owners, but we ride BMWs.

We decided to ride east over Snoqualmie Pass and spend the first night in Maupin, Oregon, just under 300 miles away and one of my favorite destinations. I took the lead because I wanted to set the pace, and I had the track programmed into my handlebar-mounted Garmin GPS. The GPS was part of my conversion of the Commando into touring mode with a windscreen, Mosko saddlebags, and provisions for my heated liner, which I was grateful for on the chilly morning.

Immediately, we were on the interstate where the speed limit was 70 mph. I carefully increased speed, trying to keep up with the traffic while listening for any hint of something wrong with the Norton. So far, so good. No unusual vibrations (just the regular ones) and no funny sounds or smells. I wicked it up to 4,000 RPM and was close enough to 70 mph for comfort. The windscreen directed the airflow just right around my Schuberth helmet. I adjusted the heated liner for maximum comfort while watching the voltmeter to make sure I wasn’t taxing the Lucas alternator or battery too much. I wiggled my butt on the Airhawk seat pad to get it in just the right position. Ahhh, that would be a lifesaver. I called Deby on the helmet communicator to ask if everything looked okay from behind. She responded that it looked fine, but could I go a little faster already?

Once we summited Snoqualmie Pass, the sun was out, and the temperatures warmed nicely into the mid-70s. We opted for old highway 10 instead of the interstate going east, and then in Ellensburg, cut south on Canyon Road along the Yakima River, one of the top motorcycle roads in the state of Washington. Traffic in the canyon was light, and I could push the speed limit around the corners on the Norton, testing the Roadholder suspension.

There are not many road options south of the city of Yakima, which is within the Yakima Indian Reservation, so we jumped on highway 97 towards Goldendale. About 60 miles south of Yakima is the St. John’s Monastery and Bakery, usually worth a stop. The bakery is part of the Holy Monastery of St. John the Forerunner and was founded in 1995 when the property was donated to the church for the foundation of a women’s monastic community. We only stopped briefly to stretch our legs, quench our thirst, and say hello to the nuns. It reminded me of John Belushi in the Blues Brothers; we were on a mission from God.

Anxious to get off the rather boring highway 97, we turned west in Goldendale and connected with state route 142, an excellent twisty road following the Klickitat River as it flows south towards its intersection with the Columbia River near The Dalles, Oregon. After crossing into Oregon, we climbed out of the Columbia River Gorge, feeling good about our day. The wind that had picked up along the river soon settled down as we climbed to over 1,000 feet on scenic two-lane highway 197. With only 40 miles to go and plenty of sunlight left in the day we took a short detour to visit the White River Falls State Park, where we took a break to admire the scenic falls.

Deby and Donn at White River Falls

Instead of returning to the main highway for the last leg, we found a small two-lane county road that followed the Deschutes River into Maupin, where we stopped for a few minutes and watched river rafts shooting the rapids at this popular rafting location.

Our destination, the Oasis Cabin Resort in Maupin, Oregon, consisted of twelve “charming” cabins and two vintage travel trailers. At the turn of the century, the cabins served as housing for railroad workers, and they were mounted on flat cars to be moved where needed. When the rail line was completed, the cabins were moved to their current location and used as one of Oregon’s oldest fishing camps.

Left to right: Tony, Deby and John

Cabins being used to house railroad workers

John posing with his vintage BMW and trailer

Deby, Tony, and I had cabins right next to each other, and John was booked into a small vintage travel trailer a short distance away. Shortly after getting off the bikes and out of our boots and gear, we found the beer in Tony’s cooler (thanks, Tony!) and unwound in the last of the afternoon sun, drinking beer and reviewing the day’s ride. My GPS logged 287 miles over a total time of 8.5 hours. The average moving speed showed 54.1 mph, but wow, it said I had a max speed of 135 mph! Clearly a glitch in the GPS system, but maybe?

More to come as we make our way south on vintage motorcycles.

Thanks for following,

Donn and Deby