Colorado on Two Wheels — Part 3
Day two started the same way the best touring days start: calm, unhurried, and already warm in that “high-altitude sun” kind of way. Coffee first. Bikes loaded. Bugs wiped off the windshields. And the quiet understanding that the road was going to write the rest.
— A Perfect Start… Then Colorado Reminded Us Who’s in Charge
Our second full day in Colorado started easy and clean — brisk air, hot sun on your skin, and that slow morning rhythm you only get when
you’re living out of saddlebags. Kenny, Rick, and I were lucky enough to crash at Art’s place in Denver. Cozy, beautiful, and exactly what
you’d expect from an architect in a historic district.
We did the usual touring ritual: chatted a bit, loaded the bikes, kicked tires, and cleaned bugs off the windshields like it was a pre-flight
checklist. The plan was simple — roll out, meet the crew, and start climbing toward the good roads.
— Avalanche Harley-Davidson, Golden CO
Instead of yesterday’s meeting spot, we aimed for a different launch point: Avalanche Harley-Davidson. Newer-looking dealership, clean,
and most importantly — a big flat parking lot.
Which mattered… because Ron dropped his Honda pulling into The Fort the morning before, and everybody was still giving him (loving) grief.
One by one the crew trickled in from hotels, hugs happened, stories got re-told, and the energy shifted into that “alright, let’s ride” gear.
Our first destination: Nederland, CO.
— Construction Zone Standstill in a Canyon
We hopped on the highway “real quick”… which turned into a full shutdown in both directions. So we did what riders do: killed the bikes,
loosened up, and accepted the moment.
The canyon walls held the heat as the temperature crept up, and there’s something oddly peaceful about sitting still with a whole line of bikes.
No rushing. No forcing it. Just waiting for the road to open back up.
When traffic finally started rolling again, it was helmets on, gloves snapped, and a scramble back into formation like a pit crew call.
— The Train Cars in Nederland
From there it was Golden Gate Canyon Road to 119 — and once the riding started, it was the good kind: little twisties, switchbacks, green
backdrops, and that “this can’t be real” mountain scenery.
Rolling into Nederland, we found a spot called The Train Cars — a coffee and gift shop built into actual train cars. One car was set
up for seating, so we posted up inside and let the day settle into place.
This is the underrated part of touring: the pauses. The small places. The slow minutes that make the fast miles mean something.
— Riding Zen on 72 → 7 → 36
After Nederland we aimed for Estes Park, but we took the long way — the right way.
Highway 72 gave us open sweepers where you can lean in and let the bike settle, then we cut down 7 to dodge the Boulder traffic and stoplights.
This is where you hit that riding zen: nothing on your mind but the road. No noise. No future. No past. Just right there — right then.
Fresh air in your lungs, views that steal the breath back out, and the feeling that the miles are doing something good to your soul.
— The Hive in Estes: Lunch, Beers, and a Motley Crew Upstairs
Rolling into Estes, we landed at a brewery called The Hive. It felt almost too fancy for us — so naturally they stuck our motley crew
upstairs in the corner like a respectful warning to the rest of the building.
Even tucked away, we probably still accidentally bothered a nice family next to us. But that’s the thing with a big ride group:
you’re loud without trying. You’re happy without permission. And you’re telling stories like the ride is still happening at the table.
The lunch was unreal — and those cold beers tasted like a reward you don’t have to explain to anyone.
— Rooftop Sunset in Denver, and the Quiet Part of the Ride
After Estes we pointed it back toward Denver. Half the crew was leaving in the morning, so the mission shifted from chasing roads to
soaking up the last night together.
The goodbye hangout was at a modern row-house — three stories, rooftop terrace, and a view that made Denver feel like a painting.
At one point we watched a video of one of the crew’s sons inventing a sport called sailboarding — throwing insane stunts on massive waves.
Hawaiians are built different.
The rest of the night was drinks, stories, and that last-sunset feeling over the city — where you realize the ride isn’t just the roads.
It’s the people. The miles just give you a place to put the memories.
Final Thought — The Miles Are Real, But the People Are the Point
Day two had everything: a calm start, a shutdown highway, perfect mountain roads, and an “earned” beer in Estes.
But the part that sticks with you is what always sticks — the crew energy, the laughs, and that quiet moment on a rooftop
where you can feel the trip starting to slip into memory.
Half the crew was leaving in the morning, which always changes the tone. You don’t say it out loud,
but everyone feels it: this is why we do it.
Part 4 is next — and it’s where the trip starts to hit deeper. The roads get bigger, the views get wilder, and the whole ride starts to feel like it’s doing something to you.
Quick Links (If you’re building your own touring setup)
Super Shox Suspension Guide
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Freedom Shields Wind Management
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Ask a Rider (Help Choosing)
Question for you: what’s the one moment from your longest ride that you still replay in your head?
