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Chasing Legends: Motorcycle Stories from the Podcast Trail
When Aaron Pufal was unceremoniously fired by the billionaire family he'd served for over a decade, he did what any reasonable person would he bought a microphone, straddled his BMW GSA, and started tracking down the legends of adventure motorcycling.
What began as a scrappy podcast recorded in garages and cafés became something unexpected—a map of invisible connections linking fifty years of motorcycle storytelling. From Ted Simon's kitchen table in France to the rooftop of The 59 Club in East London, from Lyndon Poskitt's father's Yorkshire workshop to the hallowed forecourt of the Ace Café, Pufal discovered that the adventure motorcycle community is far smaller and more interconnected than anyone realised.
Chasing Legends captures three seasons of conversations with the riders, filmmakers, and authors who shaped modern adventure
Ted Simon, who at 94 still wonders what motorcycles talk about in the darkAustin Vince, the schoolteacher who conquered the Zilov Gap and proved you don't need sponsors to circle the globeCharley Boorman, still crashing his way to wisdom on vintage bikes with questionable tyresClaudio von Planta, who failed his motorcycle test a week before filming Long Way Round—and went anywayLyndon Poskitt, the aerospace engineer who built his own rally bike and raced it 234,000 kilometres across six continentsJoey Evans, who went from a 10% chance of walking to finishing the Dakar RallySam Manicom, living on "gifted time" after 200,000 miles on the same BMW frameSterling Noren, the filmmaker behind the Backcountry Discovery RoutesElspeth Beard, who circumnavigated the globe in 1982 and packed it all away for thirty years because nobody caredBut this isn't just a collection of interviews. It's a meditation on mentorship, mechanical failure, and what happens when you stop asking permission and start asking questions. It's about blood bikers racing through London nights with neonatal transfusions. About a Kansas technician holding 86.5 mph for 32 hours across America. About fathers teaching sons in workshops, and the tools we inherit—both literal and metaphorical.
Part memoir, part oral history, part navigation chart through adventure motorcycling's past and future, Chasing Legends reveals the stories behind the stories—the missed opportunities, the fumbled questions, the moments of connection that only happen when you show up with curiosity and a willingness to listen.
For anyone who's ever looked at a map and wondered what's there. For anyone who understands that the road isn't an escape—it's where life is lived most honestly.
What began as a scrappy podcast recorded in garages and cafés became something unexpected—a map of invisible connections linking fifty years of motorcycle storytelling. From Ted Simon's kitchen table in France to the rooftop of The 59 Club in East London, from Lyndon Poskitt's father's Yorkshire workshop to the hallowed forecourt of the Ace Café, Pufal discovered that the adventure motorcycle community is far smaller and more interconnected than anyone realised.
Chasing Legends captures three seasons of conversations with the riders, filmmakers, and authors who shaped modern adventure
Ted Simon, who at 94 still wonders what motorcycles talk about in the darkAustin Vince, the schoolteacher who conquered the Zilov Gap and proved you don't need sponsors to circle the globeCharley Boorman, still crashing his way to wisdom on vintage bikes with questionable tyresClaudio von Planta, who failed his motorcycle test a week before filming Long Way Round—and went anywayLyndon Poskitt, the aerospace engineer who built his own rally bike and raced it 234,000 kilometres across six continentsJoey Evans, who went from a 10% chance of walking to finishing the Dakar RallySam Manicom, living on "gifted time" after 200,000 miles on the same BMW frameSterling Noren, the filmmaker behind the Backcountry Discovery RoutesElspeth Beard, who circumnavigated the globe in 1982 and packed it all away for thirty years because nobody caredBut this isn't just a collection of interviews. It's a meditation on mentorship, mechanical failure, and what happens when you stop asking permission and start asking questions. It's about blood bikers racing through London nights with neonatal transfusions. About a Kansas technician holding 86.5 mph for 32 hours across America. About fathers teaching sons in workshops, and the tools we inherit—both literal and metaphorical.
Part memoir, part oral history, part navigation chart through adventure motorcycling's past and future, Chasing Legends reveals the stories behind the stories—the missed opportunities, the fumbled questions, the moments of connection that only happen when you show up with curiosity and a willingness to listen.
For anyone who's ever looked at a map and wondered what's there. For anyone who understands that the road isn't an escape—it's where life is lived most honestly.
301 pages, Kindle Edition
Published February 21, 2026
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Displaying 1 - 17 of 17 reviews
February 24, 2026
This Book Made Me Buy a Bike Again
I sold my last motorcycle eight years ago. Marriage, kids, the usual excuses. Told myself I'd get back to it eventually, but eventually kept getting pushed further down the calendar. The bike sat under a tarp in the garage until she finally said, "Either ride it or sell it." I sold it.
Then the divorce came through last spring. And then I read this book.
Pufal is one of us, a Canadian who understands what it means to watch the snow pile up while you dream about asphalt. His interview with Jeremy Kroeker hit particularly close to home. A kid from Steinbach, Manitoba, who grew up Mennonite, worked as a long-haul trucker, and somehow ended up riding through Syria and Iran questioning everything he'd been taught. If Jeremy can rebuild his entire worldview from the seat of a KLR, maybe I can rebuild mine too.
The conversation with Ted Simon at 94 years old was the clincher. The man rode around the world twice, decades apart, and he's still curious about what motorcycles talk about when we're not listening. Ninety-four. Still thinking about riding.
I'm 54. Newly single. The house is too quiet. The weekends stretch out empty and endless.
The chapter on Mark Richardson's Zen and Now, tracing Pirsig's route through Minnesota and the Dakotas, reminded me of all the roads I'd planned to ride and never did. The Trans-Canada. The Cabot Trail. That gravel loop through Northern Ontario my buddy kept talking about before we lost touch.
I called the dealer yesterday. Put a deposit on a Tenere 700. It's sitting there waiting for the snow to clear, probably late April if we're lucky.
New start. New bike. No one to tell me to sell it this time.
As Pufal writes, quoting one of his guests, "Life is fairly pointless, so why not go on a fairly pointless journey?" Funny how that sounds less like nihilism and more like permission when you're staring down the second half of your life alone.
The snow will melt. The bike will be ready. And for the first time in years, so will I.
Highly recommended for any Canadian rider who's been telling themselves "someday" for too long. Someday is now. It has to be.
I sold my last motorcycle eight years ago. Marriage, kids, the usual excuses. Told myself I'd get back to it eventually, but eventually kept getting pushed further down the calendar. The bike sat under a tarp in the garage until she finally said, "Either ride it or sell it." I sold it.
Then the divorce came through last spring. And then I read this book.
Pufal is one of us, a Canadian who understands what it means to watch the snow pile up while you dream about asphalt. His interview with Jeremy Kroeker hit particularly close to home. A kid from Steinbach, Manitoba, who grew up Mennonite, worked as a long-haul trucker, and somehow ended up riding through Syria and Iran questioning everything he'd been taught. If Jeremy can rebuild his entire worldview from the seat of a KLR, maybe I can rebuild mine too.
The conversation with Ted Simon at 94 years old was the clincher. The man rode around the world twice, decades apart, and he's still curious about what motorcycles talk about when we're not listening. Ninety-four. Still thinking about riding.
I'm 54. Newly single. The house is too quiet. The weekends stretch out empty and endless.
The chapter on Mark Richardson's Zen and Now, tracing Pirsig's route through Minnesota and the Dakotas, reminded me of all the roads I'd planned to ride and never did. The Trans-Canada. The Cabot Trail. That gravel loop through Northern Ontario my buddy kept talking about before we lost touch.
I called the dealer yesterday. Put a deposit on a Tenere 700. It's sitting there waiting for the snow to clear, probably late April if we're lucky.
New start. New bike. No one to tell me to sell it this time.
As Pufal writes, quoting one of his guests, "Life is fairly pointless, so why not go on a fairly pointless journey?" Funny how that sounds less like nihilism and more like permission when you're staring down the second half of your life alone.
The snow will melt. The bike will be ready. And for the first time in years, so will I.
Highly recommended for any Canadian rider who's been telling themselves "someday" for too long. Someday is now. It has to be.
February 25, 2026
The Mechanic's Perspective
"Finally, A Book That Understands Us"
I'm a motorcycle technician with twenty-three years in the business. This book gets something most motorcycle literature misses: the reverence we have for machines and what they represent.
The section with Robin Poskitt in his Yorkshire workshop hit me hard. That man understands what I understand—that a motorcycle isn't just transportation. It's a relationship. It's trust. When Pufal describes Robin refusing to fix his son's engine and instead teaching him how to do it himself, I saw my own father doing the exact same thing with me in 1987.
The technical details scattered throughout feel authentic and earned. These aren't glossed-over moments; they're honored. What impressed me most is that Pufal never talks down to the technical aspects. He respects the machinery because he respects what the riders are doing.
If you work on motorcycles, you need to read this. It will remind you why your work matters.
"Finally, A Book That Understands Us"
I'm a motorcycle technician with twenty-three years in the business. This book gets something most motorcycle literature misses: the reverence we have for machines and what they represent.
The section with Robin Poskitt in his Yorkshire workshop hit me hard. That man understands what I understand—that a motorcycle isn't just transportation. It's a relationship. It's trust. When Pufal describes Robin refusing to fix his son's engine and instead teaching him how to do it himself, I saw my own father doing the exact same thing with me in 1987.
The technical details scattered throughout feel authentic and earned. These aren't glossed-over moments; they're honored. What impressed me most is that Pufal never talks down to the technical aspects. He respects the machinery because he respects what the riders are doing.
If you work on motorcycles, you need to read this. It will remind you why your work matters.
February 25, 2026
I'm a grief counselor specializing in life transitions and career loss. I picked up this book because I work with clients who've experienced sudden job loss and identity crisis. What I found was a masterclass on trauma recovery wrapped in motorcycle stories.
Aaron Pufal's journey of rebuilding after losing his career is compelling. But what's remarkable is how he processed that rejection—through curiosity rather than bitterness. He started asking questions instead of seeking revenge. That's mature grief work.
What struck me was how many of these riders share similar stories. Forced transitions. Unexpected turns. Having to rebuild from nothing. These aren't just adventure tales; they're case studies in resilience.
I'm recommending this to every client experiencing major life disruption. Not because they need to ride a motorcycle, but because they need to understand that what feels like an ending might actually be a beginning.
Aaron Pufal's journey of rebuilding after losing his career is compelling. But what's remarkable is how he processed that rejection—through curiosity rather than bitterness. He started asking questions instead of seeking revenge. That's mature grief work.
What struck me was how many of these riders share similar stories. Forced transitions. Unexpected turns. Having to rebuild from nothing. These aren't just adventure tales; they're case studies in resilience.
I'm recommending this to every client experiencing major life disruption. Not because they need to ride a motorcycle, but because they need to understand that what feels like an ending might actually be a beginning.
February 28, 2026
The Disillusioned Corporate Worker
📌Permission to Quit and Start Over📌
I work in finance. Cubicle. Corporate ladder. The whole soul-crushing machine. I bought this book on a whim while contemplating quitting without a plan.
What I found was permission. Not from the author—from the people in these pages. Regular people who abandoned conventional paths and built something meaningful. A yacht captain who became a podcaster. An engineer who built his own adventure. A woman who rode around the world and then became an architect.
The book doesn't romanticize leaving. It shows the struggle, the financial strain, the uncertainty. But it also shows that staying in a life that doesn't fit you is far more costly than the risk of changing course.
I haven't quit my job yet. But I've started my podcast. I've planned my first serious motorcycle trip. This book gave me the roadmap I didn't know I needed.
If you're wondering if there's more to life than what you're currently doing, read this. It might save you.
📌Permission to Quit and Start Over📌
I work in finance. Cubicle. Corporate ladder. The whole soul-crushing machine. I bought this book on a whim while contemplating quitting without a plan.
What I found was permission. Not from the author—from the people in these pages. Regular people who abandoned conventional paths and built something meaningful. A yacht captain who became a podcaster. An engineer who built his own adventure. A woman who rode around the world and then became an architect.
The book doesn't romanticize leaving. It shows the struggle, the financial strain, the uncertainty. But it also shows that staying in a life that doesn't fit you is far more costly than the risk of changing course.
I haven't quit my job yet. But I've started my podcast. I've planned my first serious motorcycle trip. This book gave me the roadmap I didn't know I needed.
If you're wondering if there's more to life than what you're currently doing, read this. It might save you.
February 28, 2026
♥️♥️♥️ The Disability Rights Advocate ♥️♥️♥️
✔️Representation That Actually Matters✔️
I advocate for disability inclusion in sports and adventure. This book features Joey Evans, a man who finished the Dakar Rally with a spinal cord injury. But here's what's important: he's not presented as inspirational porn. He's presented as a human being who refused to accept others' limitations for him.
The book doesn't shy away from the realities of his injury—the catheterization, the reduced sensation, the constant physical challenges. It's honest. And in that honesty, it shows what actually inclusive adventure looks like. Not accommodation as charity, but adaptation as strategy.
What impressed me most is that Joey isn't the only disabled person in these pages. There are subtle stories of riders overcoming various challenges. The book normalizes the fact that adventurers come in all kinds of bodies.
This should be required reading for everyone in adaptive sports. It's proof that disability doesn't end adventure; it just changes the shape of it.
✔️Representation That Actually Matters✔️
I advocate for disability inclusion in sports and adventure. This book features Joey Evans, a man who finished the Dakar Rally with a spinal cord injury. But here's what's important: he's not presented as inspirational porn. He's presented as a human being who refused to accept others' limitations for him.
The book doesn't shy away from the realities of his injury—the catheterization, the reduced sensation, the constant physical challenges. It's honest. And in that honesty, it shows what actually inclusive adventure looks like. Not accommodation as charity, but adaptation as strategy.
What impressed me most is that Joey isn't the only disabled person in these pages. There are subtle stories of riders overcoming various challenges. The book normalizes the fact that adventurers come in all kinds of bodies.
This should be required reading for everyone in adaptive sports. It's proof that disability doesn't end adventure; it just changes the shape of it.
February 28, 2026
I work in documentary film, and I found myself analyzing how Pufal constructs his narrative throughout. He doesn't just collect interviews—he weaves them into a larger story about influence, connection, and legacy.
The way he shows how one person's work inspired another, which inspired another, which inspired another—that's sophisticated storytelling. It's not a simple timeline; it's a web of human connection that makes you understand how change actually happens in communities.
The structural choices are fascinating. Using the Kashmir section as a framing device for Jeremy Kroeker's spiritual journey. Placing the blood bikers section after years of war correspondent stories. These aren't random decisions; they're intentional architecture.
If you care about how stories are told, not just what they're about, this book is a study in craft. Highly recommended for anyone interested in narrative journalism.
The way he shows how one person's work inspired another, which inspired another, which inspired another—that's sophisticated storytelling. It's not a simple timeline; it's a web of human connection that makes you understand how change actually happens in communities.
The structural choices are fascinating. Using the Kashmir section as a framing device for Jeremy Kroeker's spiritual journey. Placing the blood bikers section after years of war correspondent stories. These aren't random decisions; they're intentional architecture.
If you care about how stories are told, not just what they're about, this book is a study in craft. Highly recommended for anyone interested in narrative journalism.
February 23, 2026
he Small-Town Kid With Big Dreams
"You're Not Alone In Wanting More"
I grew up in a small town. Population 3,000. Everyone expected me to stay, get a normal job, settle down. This book showed me that some of the world's greatest adventurers came from small towns too.
Jeremy Kroeker grew up in rural Canada. Elspeth Beard came from modest circumstances. Lyndon Poskitt is from Yorkshire. These weren't privileged kids with trust funds. They were ordinary people who decided that ordinary wasn't enough.
What the book gave me was proof that location of birth isn't destiny. That you don't need money or connections or special permission. You just need to decide that the dream is worth pursuing.
I've started saving for my first motorcycle. This book is my motivation. Thank you for reminding me that small-town kids can chase legends too.
"You're Not Alone In Wanting More"
I grew up in a small town. Population 3,000. Everyone expected me to stay, get a normal job, settle down. This book showed me that some of the world's greatest adventurers came from small towns too.
Jeremy Kroeker grew up in rural Canada. Elspeth Beard came from modest circumstances. Lyndon Poskitt is from Yorkshire. These weren't privileged kids with trust funds. They were ordinary people who decided that ordinary wasn't enough.
What the book gave me was proof that location of birth isn't destiny. That you don't need money or connections or special permission. You just need to decide that the dream is worth pursuing.
I've started saving for my first motorcycle. This book is my motivation. Thank you for reminding me that small-town kids can chase legends too.
February 26, 2026
The Audiobook Devotee
"A Conversation That Keeps You Coming Back"
I've listened to the audiobook version three times now. The narration is what makes it extraordinary. Pufal's voice carries the weight of these stories without being theatrical. He sounds like he's talking to you, not performing for you.
The interview sections are particularly effective in audio format. You hear different voices, different accents, different rhythms. You hear the pauses where someone's choosing words carefully. The audio format made me feel like I was actually in the room during these conversations.
I've recommended this audiobook to six people. They've all texted me saying they've listened to at least one section multiple times. That's the mark of something that resonates deeply.
If you commute or spend time driving, get the audiobook version. Trust me on this one.
"A Conversation That Keeps You Coming Back"
I've listened to the audiobook version three times now. The narration is what makes it extraordinary. Pufal's voice carries the weight of these stories without being theatrical. He sounds like he's talking to you, not performing for you.
The interview sections are particularly effective in audio format. You hear different voices, different accents, different rhythms. You hear the pauses where someone's choosing words carefully. The audio format made me feel like I was actually in the room during these conversations.
I've recommended this audiobook to six people. They've all texted me saying they've listened to at least one section multiple times. That's the mark of something that resonates deeply.
If you commute or spend time driving, get the audiobook version. Trust me on this one.
February 28, 2026
My sixteen-year-old daughter has been talking about motorcycle adventure travel for two years. I was worried it was just rebellion. Then I read this book and realized it might be calling.
I gave her the chapters about pioneering female riders. She read them without putting them down. For the first time, she had proof that young women could do extraordinary things on motorcycles. Not as sidekicks or Instagram models, but as serious adventurers.
What the book gave me, as a parent, was perspective. These aren't reckless people chasing thrills. They're thoughtful individuals who've calculated risk, prepared meticulously, and pursued something meaningful. That helped me accept her dreams instead of fear them.
If your kids are talking about leaving, about exploring, about doing something big—read this book. It might help you understand that adventure is sometimes necessary.
I gave her the chapters about pioneering female riders. She read them without putting them down. For the first time, she had proof that young women could do extraordinary things on motorcycles. Not as sidekicks or Instagram models, but as serious adventurers.
What the book gave me, as a parent, was perspective. These aren't reckless people chasing thrills. They're thoughtful individuals who've calculated risk, prepared meticulously, and pursued something meaningful. That helped me accept her dreams instead of fear them.
If your kids are talking about leaving, about exploring, about doing something big—read this book. It might help you understand that adventure is sometimes necessary.
February 28, 2026
I've ridden across North America twice. I've camped in the rain, fixed flats in the middle of nowhere, and questioned my sanity at 3 AM on a dark highway. This book gets it. All of it.
The conversations with other long-distance riders feel like campfire talks with people who understand. Not the Instagram travel crowd, but actual adventurers who've pushed themselves to their limits and come back changed.
What I appreciated most was the honesty about fear. Lyndon Poskitt admits to being scared. Jeremy Kroeker describes moments of genuine terror. They're not superhuman—they're human beings who've chosen to do extraordinary things despite the fear, not because they lack it.
I'm keeping a physical copy of this in my saddlebag for the next trip. When things get hard out there, I want to remember these stories. I want to know I'm not alone in this.
The conversations with other long-distance riders feel like campfire talks with people who understand. Not the Instagram travel crowd, but actual adventurers who've pushed themselves to their limits and come back changed.
What I appreciated most was the honesty about fear. Lyndon Poskitt admits to being scared. Jeremy Kroeker describes moments of genuine terror. They're not superhuman—they're human beings who've chosen to do extraordinary things despite the fear, not because they lack it.
I'm keeping a physical copy of this in my saddlebag for the next trip. When things get hard out there, I want to remember these stories. I want to know I'm not alone in this.
February 28, 2026
I grew up religious and spent years unraveling my faith. Jeremy Kroeker's journey through the Middle East, questioning everything he'd been taught, felt like reading my own internal monologue out loud.
What made it powerful was that Pufal doesn't try to answer these questions for you. He lets Jeremy sit with the uncertainty. He lets the geography of belief remain complex. This isn't a book about finding God or losing God; it's a book about the courage to ask difficult questions.
The sections on visiting holy sites, on encountering devout people from different traditions, on realizing that birthplace determines belief—these conversations changed how I understand spirituality. Not doctrine, but the human search for meaning.
If you're on your own faith journey, read this. You'll find company in the questioning.
What made it powerful was that Pufal doesn't try to answer these questions for you. He lets Jeremy sit with the uncertainty. He lets the geography of belief remain complex. This isn't a book about finding God or losing God; it's a book about the courage to ask difficult questions.
The sections on visiting holy sites, on encountering devout people from different traditions, on realizing that birthplace determines belief—these conversations changed how I understand spirituality. Not doctrine, but the human search for meaning.
If you're on your own faith journey, read this. You'll find company in the questioning.
February 28, 2026
Great Read!
What a great book on the history and emergence of the adventure riding community. Aaron shares a unique perspective through his personal experience and friendship with those who paved the way for us to follow in their tracks. See you on the road!
What a great book on the history and emergence of the adventure riding community. Aaron shares a unique perspective through his personal experience and friendship with those who paved the way for us to follow in their tracks. See you on the road!
March 4, 2026
Representation That Rings True
The stories of pioneering women and adaptive riders aren’t token gestures. They’re integral, powerful, and handled with respect.
The stories of pioneering women and adaptive riders aren’t token gestures. They’re integral, powerful, and handled with respect.
March 4, 2026
A Companion for Late-Night Drives
The narrative flows like a conversation you don’t want to end. You can almost hear the engines cooling as stories unfold.
The narrative flows like a conversation you don’t want to end. You can almost hear the engines cooling as stories unfold.
March 5, 2026
This book doesn’t glamorize quitting—but it shows that staying stuck can cost more than change. It’s quietly liberating.
March 6, 2026
Instead of chasing fame, the author chases understanding. That shift—from ego to inquiry—makes all the difference.
March 6, 2026
For Those Who Stare at Maps
If you’ve ever traced a route with your finger and wondered what lies beyond the horizon, this book will feel like someone finally answering that call.
If you’ve ever traced a route with your finger and wondered what lies beyond the horizon, this book will feel like someone finally answering that call.
Displaying 1 - 17 of 17 reviews