The past two months feel like a blur—a mad dash to cross all Ts and dot all Is, while reminding ourselves that this is supposed to be enjoyable. And now that we’re here I believe a recap is in order.

When the idea first surfaced—a motorcycle guide to Romania—we were excited. However, as we allowed the abstract thoughts to settle into everyday pragmatism, it became obvious that we had a host of questions to answer: when, how, where, what? If we were to create a motorcycling guide to Romania, what format should it have? The question was answered rather quickly—it should be easily accessible, therefore it would be online. If we were to ride through Romania and document the roads, the attractions and the people, when should we do it? With a continental temperate climate and four distinct seasons, Romania is better suited for moto exploration during late spring, summer and early fall. So we decided to start around the first part of April and allow ourselves around 4-5 months to explore and experience the country.

The next big question was in regard to the motorcycle. When we decided to plan the trip, I was riding a ’98 Honda VFR800, a fantastic bike to be sure, but not one I was convinced would be well suited to Romanian roads. With only about 200-250 miles of freeway (motorway for the Brits, autobahn for the Germans, and autostrada for the Italians), Romania possesses a wealth of twisty 2-lane roads. However, the quality of these roads varies greatly, from fairly smooth, high-speed European-ranked highways crossing the country to gravel and dirt country roads connecting small towns. While a VFR is quite a versatile motorcycle for most touring situations, a rutted, pot-holed forest road in the mountains is not exactly its natural habitat.

So, despite visions of high-speed moto nirvana on the back of a sport bike, I decided it was wiser to seek alternate solutions—namely a different bike. At this juncture, it is worth noting that I realized that I had several options regarding the bike—buying a bike in the US and shipping it (seemed the costlier and more involved choice), buying a bike in Europe and registering it there, or renting a bike in Europe. Based on the length of our journey and the going rental rates, the third choice fell out of favor quickly. That left the other two—buying there or buying here and shipping. A quick tally of European prices (which are markedly higher across the board), import taxes, Value-Added Taxes (VAT—similar to the sales tax in the US) which run at about 20%, led to the conclusion that a bike purchased in Europe would cost anywhere from $2,000 to $5,000 more than a similar one in the US.

That was a fairly large difference to swallow. So, I set about to investigate the cost of the first option, namely purchasing a US bike and shipping it over. This also seemed the more exciting and adventurous path to take. So, off I went into the vast reaches of the Internet to research a suitable motorcycle for this journey. It was clear that for the two of us we needed something that was comfortable, capable of handling a variety of terrain and surfaces while hauling a good deal of luggage. The criteria ruled out most sport bikes since few of them are comfortable enough for long days in the saddle, and pot holes, rough asphalt and gravel are not particularly easily navigable on stiff suspensions and high-speed tires. Cruisers were also ruled out based on weight, height and maneuverability—too heavy, too low and too cumbersome.

Luckily for us, the moto industry, in its pursuit of higher revenue from market segmentation, has created a special segment for folks like us—the Adventure Touring motorcycles. And this segment is well represented by some interesting and highly capable machines, from the iconic BMW R1200 GS (former 1150GS) which garnered the 2005 Bike of the Year, to the enduring Triumph Tiger, to the Aprilia Caponord, then on to the KTM 950 Adventure and even the Suzuki V-Strom 1000. The segment is growing and expanding in the US, after years of documented success in Europe. Incidentally, when I initially looked at purchasing a bike in Europe, I was astounded at the large number and variety of touring motorcycles—it is clear that Europeans love adventure motorcycles and travel. Also in another side note, I looked at models with smaller engines (BMW F650GS, Aprilia Pegaso, Suzuki V-Strom 650, Honda Transalp 650). But, with two people on board along with full cases of luggage, steep mountain roads would have likely seemed really steep and really long. So, I went with the big bore bikes.

At this point I narrowed the search to the five bikes mentioned above. The realization that the Aprilias used a modified Suzuki V-twin for some of their models despite its higher price, dropped it out of the running. The KTM, while highly capable, proved a really tall mount. And despite its wonderful reputation and numerous victories in the grueling Paris-Dakar competition, the BMW was a bit too expensive. Which left me with the Tiger and the V-Strom. A few weeks’ worth of research and many hours spent on eBay Motors and CycleTrader coupled with several visits to dealerships yielded a clear winner—the Suzuki V-Strom. The combination of a versatile motor, an aluminum frame, a comfortable riding position, and the optional hard bags made the lowest-in-class price seem even more exciting.

After a couple of weeks perusing motorcycle listings and yo-yoing back and forth between new and used, I found a 2004 V-Strom with 3,000 miles and a full set of hard bags from a private seller in Columbus, OH. Lacking a pick-up truck, I tried other venues, such as renting a van or a truck. But, of course, why would things be so easy? Vans had mileage restrictions, rental trucks had bed liners and lacked cargo hooks, and towing a trailer with any rental pick-up truck was out of the question, as several rental company reps quickly and pointedly informed me. This left me with the obvious choice of riding the bike back for the 6-hour trip. Under most circumstances, this would be a great opportunity. Yet, this being early March, with temperatures hovering ‘generously’ around 37-42 degrees Fahrenheit, the riding option was not quite warmly greeted. A telephone conversation with the owner detailing the fact that in Columbus it was snowing that day reassured me that my intent was misguided at best. But, with no alternatives in sight, my wife and I drove to Ohio on a Sunday and I rode the bike back home. And what a ride it turned out to be—sunny in Columbus, cloudy in Cincinnati, raining in Northern Kentucky, and a half hour of hail in Louisville, followed by more rain further south. At the end of the six-hour trip I knew I had chosen the right bike for this trip. It felt comfortable, sure-footed, and predictable. And side-by-side with my VFR it was a fairly good looker as well.

In the next post I’ll cover the shipping adventure. Stay Tuned!

--BGR