How to Become a Moto-Podcaster: Jupiter's Birthday, a pilgrimage.
May 13, 2025
"Welcome to Season Two, Episode Twelve of the podcast! Today, I'm speaking with Mark Richardson, the author of *Zen and Now*." I try to be a brilliant podcast host right out of the gate. "In my view, *Zen and Now* is a motorcycle and philosophical pilgrimage that retraces the route from the book *Zen and the Art of Motorcycle Maintenance*. It’s a motorcycle ride from Minnesota to San Francisco, and those who travel this route are known as Pirsig Pilgrims, named after the author Robert Pirsig."
During my podcast interview with Mark, I ended up making a fatal mistake by asking him about his trip home from San Francisco in 2019. He mentioned needing repairs on his DR600 and how he spent some time at Ted Simon's place in California—as authors do, I suppose. This story, along with some photos he shared, planted a seed in my mind, and there was no stopping its growth. Damn you, Mark; this is all your fault! I'm sure I'm not the first to embark on an irresponsible journey inspired by an author.
I had previously collaborated with Ted Simon a few years ago on a small project, and I happen to know that his birthday is May 1st. Ted now lives in the South of France, in a small town outside of Marseille. I thought it would make for a great podcast episode to undertake my own pilgrimage and interview Ted on his birthday.
I have great news: Ted has agreed to host me for a chat! I have a month to set everything up, but I just realized I haven’t made any profit from my motorcycle-themed podcast yet. Honestly, I wasn’t thinking when I started this, so why start now? I’ll fly basic-economically, stay at hostels, and limit my pub visits. I plan to prepare for the interview and catch up on adventure motorcycle books piling up in my studio while traveling. Perhaps I can set up some other interviews while I’m across the pond.
While I’ve heard podcasters can make good money, my costs are adding up with monthly hosting fees, editing software, recording equipment, computers, and travel expenses. There’s also the time investment—each hour-long episode can demand 10 to 40 hours of preparation, plus 4 to 6 hours for editing and social media. Overall, it’s mostly enjoyable—reading about motorcycle journeys, talking with interesting people, and sharing a beer with the co-host, Taylor. However, I could definitely do without the editing!
Why go through the trouble of traveling over ten thousand miles round trip for just a forty-five-minute conversation? Have you ever listened to a podcast where the guest sounds like they’re on a call from the end of a mile-long string made from empty soup cans? Or worse, a Zoom call that resembles a cell phone conversation from the 90s? I try not to put my guests and listeners through that kind of poor audio quality.
Most of the time, this technical issue can be easily resolved by sending some basic audio equipment to the guest. I typically conduct the interview over a video call, and then the guest sends back the device with the high-quality audio recorded on it, ready for editing. However, in the case of Ted Simon, who is about to turn 94, I get the feeling that he wouldn’t want to bother with setting up recording hardware for a podcast he may have never even heard of, despite our shared history.
That said, he is a legend who has inspired and entertained millions, including me. Doesn’t this opportunity deserve some real effort? Plus, it would make for a fantastic story or adventure to meet the author of *Jupiter’s Travels* on his 94th birthday. After all, this should help me gain enough listeners that advertisers will soon be flooding my inbox, eager for ad space on my hit podcast! Perhaps I should consider submitting the show for a Webby Award? Nah, I’m sure they’ll reach out to me soon enough.
When *Jupiter's Travels* was published in 1979, I was just three years old. I realize that had I discovered this book when I bought my Honda CB750 SuperSport on my sixteenth birthday, my life might have turned out very differently. I feel the urge to share this with Ted, even if it sounds a bit cliché.
Finally arriving in Marcelle, France, I find a little harbourside café. I am reading *Riding High*, Ted's book published after *Jupiter’s Travels* but before *Dreaming of Jupiter*. It seems to me that he had more stories to tell from his adventures around the world. He appears to have more insight into some of the pivotal moments from his original work.
I understand that time can change the way we view events in our lives. Perhaps he wanted to expand on what he thought was significant or simply clarify his experiences years later. I’ll be sure to ask him about this in a few days.
After four flights and a three-hour car ride, I arrive in a tiny countryside town straight out of a 1950s French storybook. I should be on an adventure motorcycle; I feel like a fraud. The narrow street is lined with stone-walled townhomes, and the church bells dominate the soundscape. Residents peek out from their second-story windows, enjoying an afternoon cigarette. I wonder what they think I’m doing here as they silently observe me from on high. Surely they don’t think I’m here to meet Jupiter, or is that what all nervous, star-struck wannabe podcasters look like as they wander the streets?
After checking into a hundred-year-old guesthouse, I quickly drop off my bags to find the local café for a glass of French red wine and to finish my notes for tomorrow's meeting with Ted at eleven in the morning. The second-floor café, Le Poste, is the perfect setting to wrap up the last chapters of "Dreaming of Jupiter." A jazz band is setting up, and I’m on my third glass of wine. The locals greet each other with kisses—three kisses, if you’re wondering. The server, clearly the matriarch of the place, is already annoyed with me for not speaking French, and it’s obvious they know I’m an impostor. I find myself stuffed into the corner at the only single-seat table draped in a red checkered cloth. Instead of preparing for my interview tomorrow, I’m enjoying too much wine and wondering why they built this town with streets so narrow that you can’t fit a modern GSA down them when there is so much vacant land around.
Moring arrives, and I walk over to the Grand Rue address, just a few minutes away. Ted has left the heavy wooden front door open on his little stone townhome. Just inside, there’s an empty room that could use some tidying up. I yelled up the stairs, and I was invited up by a thick English accent. Ted is wearing a button-down black shirt and glasses; he extends his hand for a welcome. We exchange pleasantries, but I’m not sure how to make small talk with Ted Simon. As I set up the recording equipment, I felt an irrational rush, having traveled for several days and finally meeting my hero. I don’t even check the photo I took of Ted. I have the ISO set at 100, which is too low for the dim light, resulting in a blurry picture—a complete waste.
Considering Ted just turned 94, the interview went well. He skipped the formalities and got straight to the point with every question. I suppose that when you're 94 and a best-selling author, there’s no reason to mess around with small talk. He discussed some serious political issues that I usually avoid on the podcast. Given his experiences—motorcycling through war zones, being jailed for being a writer, and pondering profound ideas for decades—he certainly has the resume to skip the fluff and discuss whatever he wants. Oh, and Ted gave the best answer to my closing Oxford comma question to date; what a legend!
After packing up my recording equipment and double-checking that the system properly recorded—something that has failed me before—Ted signed my book and gave me a copy of his new autobiography, “Don’t Boil the Canary.” Soon, I’m back in the rental car, headed to the airport, and preparing to fly to the south of Spain, Lyndon Poskitt said he’d come on the podcast if I were in town.
I arrived in Malaga after dark and took an Uber to a charming cliffside town about thirty minutes away. As soon as I arrived, I understood the appeal. There’s plenty of open mountain scrubland perfect for riding a trail bike, the weather was warm and dry, and I’d guess it’s reasonably affordable. The next day, Lyndon offered me a Norden 901 motorcycle to ride while he worked on his campervan conversion. He knows what it's like to feel stranded alone in a hotel. Soon, we found ourselves awkwardly in my small hotel room, recording what is sure to be a fantastic interview. He understands what we need for the podcast—he's a pro and a likable guy; it’s a slam dunk. We even broke some news during this session: Lyndon is very close to publishing his first book, which is exciting. After packing the recording gear, I headed to Gatwick on a discount flight before nightfall. I’m going to meet his father tomorrow,
After landing in good old England, I took an hour-long train ride to Brighton by the sea, where I booked a tiny, quirky room right downtown for eighty dollars. This isn’t the kind of place I’d choose for a getaway with my wife, but it was just clean enough for my purposes, albeit a little noisy. I headed to the pub afterward. I read that Brighton was a meeting spot for the 59 Club and Cafe Racers back in the 70s, although there’s little evidence of that these days—just drunk kids and kebab shops.
In the morning, I made my way up to Yorkshire to meet with Lyndon’s dad, Robin Poskitt. I boarded the train to Hull and suddenly remembered that place. I used to go to England to visit my grandmother, Peggy, who had a caravan in Hull, right by the sea. Robin picked me up in a stylish diesel Range Rover with white seats. He was just as pleasant and courteous as I imagined. After meeting the rest of the family, it was clear how good parenting had shaped Lyndon into such a remarkable man. I might even feel a little envious of this seemingly perfect family. We recorded a solid, no-filler twenty-minute audio session in Lyndon’s childhood home, and just like that, I finished my tea, expressed my gratitude, and took the next train to Birmingham for the night. After editing some audio on the train, I published the Ted Simon episode using the hotel’s Wi-Fi. Fingers crossed it turns out well—I was off to the pub afterward.
I like to think we’re a podcast about badass motorcycle adventurers and that our rally motto, “Don’t be an ADV wienie, be a ADV Badass,” captures that essence. However, I also want our podcast to be cerebral and not just about brap, beer, and babes. This is why we’ve always included authors, photographers, and the like on the show. I enjoy speaking with people who are smarter than I am. Interviewing these brilliant individuals requires days of preparation, and one would think you can't help but get a little smarter in the process.
Since I have the day off, I decided to head to Coventry, England, by train—an excuse for a train ride is always welcome. At the Coventry Transport Museum, they have Ted Simon's two motorcycles, which he rode around the world. The iconic 1973 Triumph Tiger 100 is much smaller than I anticipated, and the hand-painted green panniers are wired shut. It's just missing the sword; that's disappointing. Ted once told me that someone had stolen a frying pan from his bike, and it was returned to the museum as instructed in the will of the would-be thief. I’ve received permission to go behind the velvet rope, try on the bike, and take some photos—how cool is that? It amazes me that this uncomplicated little bike made it around the world, ridden by a man who had almost no riding experience and barely knew a starter from a solenoid. Next, I see the R80GS sporting the legendary umbrella, which looks like a Cybertruck in comparison to the Tiger 100; it resembles my motorcycle, a R1250GSA. It’s twice the size of the green Triumph, and I’m struck by the fact that Ted was seventy years old when he rode this bike around the world on his second trip. It’s no wonder he’s a bit gruff about its size when discussing it in his book, “Dreaming of Jupiter.”
A quick Southbound rail journey to London, and I’m off to the 59 Club on a Wednesday night, which is their regular meeting night. The clubhouse is located in East London, an area known for being a bit dodgy, and it shares space with a local boxing club on the second floor of an old brick building. Parked out front is a nice boxer BMW, and right above that is the iconic 59 Club sign. A simple black and white painted circle bolted to a red brick wall. After climbing up a few flights of stairs, I sheepishly step into the club’s meeting room. There are about eight people gathered around a long wooden table, looking ready for a bridge game to commence. They are immediately welcoming and offer me coffee. Before long, all the photo albums are spread out on the table, and I receive a copy of their book, “Coboy’s Fifty-Nine Club Story.” A man in his seventies named Dick gives me five minutes on mic speaking on 59 Club history and the club’s current mission; podcast perfect. I thank them for their hospitality and leave them to handle the administrative tasks of running a motorcycle club, as they open letters, mail out membership cards, and patches across the globe. I head to The Bike Shed for a pint, just a few miles away. What a great group! I’ve learned that there’s a connection between the Ace Café and the UK Blood Bikers charity group.
Now I’m in Windsor, England, preparing for an interview with Austin Vince. I hear back from Carlie Borman’s manager, who says the new series “Long Way Home” drops tomorrow, and Carlie can give me twenty minutes via Zoom. Unfortunately, I don’t have a mic with me for recording on Zoom, but we’ll have to make it work. Charlie is gracious and polite, and I will focus on processing this audio as soon as I can; however, I must prepare for today’s interview with Austin Vince, a legend in the motorcycle world.
Austin Vince is a gregarious motorcycle filmmaker and author, known for his epic films “Mondo Enduro” and “Terra Circa,” both groundbreaking and legendary. Austin is the original adventure motorcycle filmmaker; everyone, including Charlie Borman & Ewan McGregor, follows in his knobbly wheel ruts. He’s captivating, and I know we won’t be able to cover everything in an hour, but I’ll do my best.
I met Austin in his art studio next to a jazz club. He’s dressed in his signature overalls and is everything I expected. I’ve booked a podcasting studio in town that’s appropriate for a guest of his caliber. This is going great, and moments after the usual introduction, “Welcome to the Podcast,” it’s clear that he is delivering solid gold. I’ve prepared three pages of well-researched questions spanning the breadth of his work and life. I get through three of my questions, and then he takes over the session, which makes me very happy indeed. If I’m talking, something has gone wrong, very wrong.
After the interview concludes, Austin takes me back to his art studio, where he shows me diaries from “Mondo Enduro” and “Terra Circa.” So cool! He has real work to do, planning his VINCE Rallies in Spain, and I need to head back to London by train, of course.
Taylor Lawson, the co-host of the ADV Cannonball Podcast. He is an American living in Sweden. I’ve known him for years, back when I lived in Fort Lauderdale and we were both yacht captains. We’ve taken several motorcycle trips together in Colorado and Norway. We’re set to ride in India this September. Taylor has a great voice, and I’m lucky to have someone who can carry the podcast. You see, I have the voice of a seagull being chased by a tiny yappy dog. He also plays the straight man in our zany duo. From my London hotel room, Taylor and I record two sets of bumpers for upcoming episodes. I spend the day editing the Austin Vince and Long Way Home episodes and hit publish. I’m looking forward to walking the streets and enjoying some of that legendary London Indian food.
Sam arrived on the same R80GS that he rode around the world for his four books. As soon as he puts on his legendary leather hat, he is quickly surrounded by curious fans. I seize the opportunity to take some photos, and when the time is right, I give him a nod through the crowd. We set up our recording equipment in the Ace office, up on the second floor, and jumped right into the recording session. Since Sam narrated all four of his audiobooks and is a professional speaker, I can tell in just a few minutes that this is going to be a great conversation. Fingers crossed, there are no technical issues, as he has so many interesting and exciting stories to share. After an hour of captivating storytelling, we wrap up the recording!
Sam Manicom has agreed to an interview today. I reached out to him because he references Ted Simon several times in his first book, *Into Africa*. We’re meeting at the Ace Cafe in London, which is a real treat! The owner, Mark, has kindly offered us his office to record a podcast. I was surprised to learn that Sam rode for eight hours to join me for our little podcast, and I’m feeling a bit of impostor syndrome. I find some confidence in the fact that podcasts have a lasting presence on the internet, and if we record a fantastic session, he might see the value in taking the time to do this episode with me.
While researching the Ace Cafe, I discovered information about the 59 Club and the 1962 Volunteer Emergency Services that Mrs. Margaret Ryerson and her husband started. This service provided a purpose for Cafe Racers in the 60s by transporting blood and other life-saving essentials throughout Greater London. I reached out to the chairman of the National Blood Bikers Association, Alex Chalmers, and he agreed to meet for a chat on air. I also found another podcasting studio in Surrey, England, where we will meet the following day. It’s my last day on the road, and I’m flying home tomorrow.
Once we start recording, it’s clear that the studio technician is just as interested in hearing about this heroic motorcycle volunteer program as he is in running the studio. A Blood Biker is a volunteer who uses motorcycles to swiftly transport medical blood, plasma, or mother's milk across the UK. They appear to be a well-organized group of riders who take their responsibilities seriously and professionally. I think this will make for a compelling episode.
That’s it—all done! Fifteen days of travel and hours of interviews are in the can. They say you shouldn't meet your heroes, but they are wrong. Each one of these impressive British men did not disappoint. They were smart, kind, and gracious with their time. During my flight home, I realized there's a common thread in British bike culture, revealing only 600 RPM of separation between all these stories in this podcast series.
Ted Simon truly is the Jupiter-sized celestial body in our solar system of adventure motorcyclists. After spending time with these influential riders, I can see that each of them is like a planet unto themselves, each with a unique gravitational influence on the adventure motorcycle community.
I wonder if I’ll need to build new shelves in the studio for all the podcasting awards?