I LOVE MOTORCYCLES.
I love motorcycles. My first one appeared when I was thirty. Before that, for some reason, I had never realized this passion existed. One day I was walking along Moscow's Garden Ring when I saw a Harley-Davidson motorcycle jacket in a shop window, and in that instant everything became clear. It felt as though I had suddenly awakened. From that moment on, motorcycles occupied my thoughts completely. I could no longer imagine living without one. What seemed strange was not my obsession, but the fact that I had somehow managed to live for thirty years without discovering it. As usual, I forgave myself for the oversight.
At the time I drove an old Moskvich 412. It reminded me of the Soviet construction set I had as a child - only on wheels. Like a stubborn donkey, it rattled, broke down, and constantly demanded attention, yet somehow it always carried me through difficult moments. This time it came to the rescue once again. I was working as a junior editor for Medved magazine, creating interior features accompanied by conceptual photography. My income was an irregular two hundred dollars a month. Buying a motorcycle was completely out of the question, so I placed an advertisement in the newspaper offering to exchange my car for one.
A few days later someone called.
"If your car can make it to Tver, the Ural with a sidecar is yours."
The Moskvich was dented, rusty in places, and missing its instrument panel, but it was still a fighter. It reached Tver without complaint, and we made the exchange. I didn't even

have a motorcycle licence, and I had never ridden one before, so the kind old man from Tver drove me all the way home on the Ural. A month later I had passed my test and officially become a motorcyclist. That Ural carried me on adventurous journeys to Sochi and Anapa before I traded it for a Japanese standard bike, and later for a sport motorcycle.
From then on, motorcycles became a permanent part of my life. Moscow's riding season is short, and in later years work often forced me to take long breaks from riding. When I eventually moved to Krasnaya Polyana, however, I realized I had arrived in paradise for motorcyclists. Here it was possible not only to ride on the road but also to explore the mountains on an enduro bike.
While renovating my new house, I met Lev Khutoretsky, an avid enduro rider and the owner of the Enduro 23 rental company. We started talking, and I suggested that we "slightly" improve his rather ordinary hangar by giving it a touch of metropolitan sophistication. What began as a modest renovation gradually evolved into a large-scale project - a contemporary, stylish space complete with a café and a shop for riders and visitors alike.
Lev, an exceptionally talented athlete and teacher, had developed his own method of enduro instruction, which I experienced firsthand. It proved remarkably effective, and I found myself making real progress. Soon another idea emerged: to create not simply a rental facility but an inspiring environment that offered everything a rider might need - comfortable changing rooms, storage areas, a workshop, a bar, and, of course, a large balcony overlooking the Sochi - Krasnaya Polyana highway.
I wanted this to become something more than a place to rent

motorcycles. I imagined it as a genuine club, where enthusiasts could train, relax, exchange ideas, and hold workshops. As an artist, I have always believed that the atmosphere of a place influences people profoundly. The right environment encourages conversation, learning, ambition, and achievement. I have lost count of the times I have walked into the wrong kind of space and immediately wanted to leave before finishing what I had come to do. Creating a place for people who genuinely love motorcycles became my mission.
Lev embraced the idea wholeheartedly, and together we developed the new Enduro 23. It became a place equally welcoming to experienced riders and complete beginners. Looking back now, I can say that Lev succeeded in attracting a remarkable community of enduro enthusiasts - champions, well-known bloggers, and countless passionate amateurs. Together with his team, he organized several outstanding enduro camps and went on to win numerous competitions.
Before that success, however, there was an entire year of challenges. Drawings, heated debates, moments of revelation, periods of inspiration followed by despair - day after day we pushed forward, gritting our teeth. Every day I learned something new, mastering the crafts of building and design while simultaneously learning to ride enduro. It was a demanding year, and the project tested all of us, but in the end everything came together.
We did it. The opening felt as exhilarating as the pop of a champagne cork.
Thank you, Lev, for that time, for the experience, and for everything we built together.