In the days when America was more Free than it is today I liked taking my motorcycle down there. I liked riding my bike helmetless in America, something all ten of the provinces of Canada had long agreed was contrary to the common good.
I rode with the boys sometimes and by myself once in while but mostly I rode in America with Sonja on the back. She was a smart, balanced passenger. You missed out if you are a guy and you have never rode a motorcycle with your gal hanging on for dear life behind you.
There were some taverns I liked in America. Mostly I stayed away from the taverns that went out of their way to attract motorcyclists. Too loud. I preferred redneck taverns, the ones just a little more demented than the coffee shop in "Easy Rider." I still prefer such establishments. I blame my affinity for such places on having spent too many of my formative years in Motherfucking, Alberta. People in redneck American taverns say things to you like, "You're a Canadian? You Canadians must be alright or we'd've bombed you silly by now. Ain't that right Ed?"
Riding a motorcycle without a helmet is a little risky, riding a motorcycle helmetless after a few beer is an even better risk. You gotta get it in before you get old.
Never had much trouble with the police in America. Just lucky I guess.