Opinion columns allow editorial staff like me to take a few liberties with our typical content, which usually involves delivering motorcycle-related information to our readers. It might be done with a humorous slant or perhaps one more biting. Though, if asked to sum up the words hammered out on this very keyboard, that’s about the gist of it. There is a topic that’s filtered into the mainstream in these times and one that’s come to light in recent years for me: A loss of our third places.
American Sociologist Ray Oldenburg coined “third places,” describing where people gather when not at home or work. Our first place (home) is followed by our second place (work), and finally, we have our third place, where we socialize and connect with our local community.
These casual spaces, ideally, have no financial barriers to entry or cost requirements. However, if you expand that logic, it could be anything—parks, gyms, coffee shops, and whatever fits that concept. Essentially, we’re talking about places where people can congregate and perhaps talk to each other that are generally outside your familial or professional circles.
Now, I know a few of those examples I mentioned have an expectation, and sometimes a requirement, that you shell out some dough to be inside them. Coffee shops, bars, and other establishments keep their doors open when you, me, and Cousin Jimmy drop a few bucks on some overpriced swill or snacks. Gyms require memberships; points are taken and understood. Before we could binge TV shows to completion, we’d have to wait a week to watch the next installment of whatever sitcom dominated the airwaves at the time. Oddly enough, those shows made the third place within those settings central to the show. Think about Cheers, Friends, and It’s Always Sunny in Philadelphia.
Speaking as someone on the wrong side of 35 but not quite 40, I do remember a time when it was far more common to work, study, or generally convene in some random public place, and that was due to a lack of connectivity. For me, this meant record stores, coffee shops, and punk venues near college campuses in Southern California. Some of those places have proudly persisted, whereas mentioning the namesakes of venues past or record stores long gone to a new generation of independent music fans will immediately expose my gray hair for what it is—me being old.
Economic and social pundits point to various reasons for this perceived loss in our third spaces. Some point to economic conditions not leaving much in consumers’ pockets to hang out at bars, restaurants, malls, and other places. In a post-COVID landscape, certain businesses pivoted away from hosting patrons. Looking back even further, other thought leaders point to how modern neighborhoods have changed—gated communities and other isolated living spaces.
Cell phones became ubiquitous in my youth, though early forms of social media evolved from hyper-specific message boards to the absolute juggernauts they are today, developing rapidly, irrevocably integrating themselves into society. We see the world from a different perspective and consume media at a firehose pace, which I relish at certain points. The number of chaotic memes, cat videos, and other unhinged behaviors that The Algorithm has curated for me is compelling but, ultimately, not fulfilling. So, perhaps it’s time to take a break from those things. My point here is simplistic: Why go somewhere when we can rot on the couch and watch someone else do it instead?
Thankfully, I’m more hands-on, and adopting that mindset has narrowly missed me. I opened this column with the idea that these things have impacted me directly and that the current state of a particular road near me triggered this idea. As it stands, California State Route 33 between Ojai and Lockwood Valley Road is in what I’d describe as less-than-ideal conditions after extended closures. Recent rainy seasons caused landslides, which resulted in months of downtime, and my favorite road was down for the count.
Recently, the 33 reopened to the public to a hungry motorsport-loving public, but not without its quirks. The iconic motorcycling route through the Topatopa Mountains is mired with one-lane roads and modified traffic patterns that see hikers, cyclists, campers, and riders waiting at desolate stop lights for lengthy periods. It’s a bummer, man. At some point, it will be repaired, so there is that.
It hits me in the soft, gooey parts because any given Sunday would provide an extraordinary glimpse into the two-wheeled market, where every walk of motorcycling life took to that road when the sun was shining. Conversations were spurred while filling up at the gas station or chugging water at Wolf’s Pine Mountain Inn—affectionately known as Wolfie’s to locals. While Wolfie’s has never been open in my years of riding, that hasn’t stopped it from being a well-established stopping point on Highway 33.
Names exchange as quickly as they’re forgotten in those places, but riders tend to have oddly tight relationships with those they can identify exclusively from their bikes and gear. That’s the joy about a spot like that. If you’re there at the right time, you can participate. If not, well, there’s always next weekend. Even on a practical level, that community helped me thin the gear herd and donate to new riders diving in.
Bringing up problems without any solution is a particular pet peeve of mine. However, my ill-formed suggestions aren’t equipped to handle the issue of dwindling third places. So, what was my solution over the past few years while the 33 was in disrepair? It made me push to other roads in the greater Los Angeles and Orange County areas, which isn’t the worst thing in the world, as California is a hotbed of good riding.
The local characters became more familiar, and handshakes were exchanged. It has also led to a change of heart about policies that prevent me from publicly sharing my life. What I mean is the act of taking pictures incessantly. But there must be some middle ground, even if we’re documenting for posterity’s sake. Those times, spaces, and moments are a big part of what makes me ride motorcycles—doing things for the experience I get out of them.
Things change, and that’s what keeps life interesting. Best capture that moment in history while it’s here.
