Comparison Is The Thief Of Joy

Blog Date - 11 June 2026

I heard this quote in a YouTube video and it struck a chord. The ever reliable and trustworthy internet credits Theodore Roosevelt with the first use of the phrase "comparison is the thief of joy" - until you look further where you'll find... no-one actually knows. Not to worry, that's not the point here. It's something I've known logically for quite some time and yet subconsciously I still fail to learn from it. 

If I meet with a 55 year old who's retired comfortably, lives in a smart house with a charming partner, can afford to run a nice motorhome as well as a couple of nice motorcycles, takes 8 week trips around Europe in the summer and tinkers in their well equipped shed in the winter, I am indeed quite envious. 

A couple of motorcycles, a motorhome with a bike trailer... why would anyone want that?!?

Equally if I see a 55 year old in a third world country with a medical condition that could be fixed with a week's worth of cheap medicine, no running water, a tin shanty shack for a home, and working 60 hours a week I can see just how luxurious my life is and how lucky I truly am. Then I'll feel guilty about moaning over my own terrible terrible situation.

In many ways I'm surprisingly good at not comparing myself with others. I'd like to say it's because I'm a mentally strong individual who is firmly in control of his mature emotions. I'd like to say that but it would be a lie. I reckon it's because I'm not driven by some of the things that drive most folks. 

I don't hanker after a large house in grand surroundings. My humble 2 bed terrace is already larger than I need or even want. To me a house is merely a shelter and a dry place to store tools and random bike bits. Sharon's house while also small is well presented with nice décor, it is indeed joyfully amiable and I appreciate that and yet I don't feel the need to replicate it at my place.

Even if money was no problem - I still wouldn't want to live in a place like this.

My envy creeps in when I encounter a place with a proper workshop. I turn green when there's a double garage complete with lathes and benches and lifts and massive toolboxes. My ideal house would be a double garage with a small studio flat above and a pair of 40 foot containers in the garden for storage. I have yet to see anything like this on the market - is it just me then?

When it comes to motorcycles I figure I'm doing well here. I like, appreciate and enjoy a ride on something like a GS1250. To feel the insane rush of acceleration from a CBF1000 is thrilling. The immediacy of torque on the MT07 is addictive. I could, if I chose, purchase and run any of these motorcycles yet I don't because the CB500X meets my requirements 99% of the time and more importantly I am happy with it.  

T'ain't much, t'ain't purdy, but it's more than good enough for me.

So where do I fail? When do I compare myself to others and steal the joy away from myself? My trips, that's where.

Eeeee when I wur a lad... Way back before social media and the mainstream internet, when mobile phones were just for yuppies, before speed cameras and ANPR, way back when I had long long hair and no money. That young lad had absolutely no idea at all that people could, you know, travel to far off lands on a motorcycle. 

Eeeee that wur a long long time since.

Sure I'd been camping in The Lake District with a cheap cotton tent, a cheap nylon sleeping bag and absolutely no idea what I was doing. I started to do rallies as far away as, oooh, Wales and Yorkshire! I took on a massive expedition with friends to "London" and slept on the floor of some random biker's house. As far as I was concerned I was "well 'ard" and "pretty mustard" for being so damn adventurous.

It didn't take too long to realise I wasn't. I met people who'd been to - get this - Scotland!! Not just that bit of Scotland north of Carlisle but ALL THE WAY up to the top! I was in awe, dumbstruck and impressed. I was also somewhat deflated to realise just how unadventurous I was. 

Later I started to meet people who'd been - ahem - "abroad" as in France and Germany. You know - this bothered me less oddly. They were clearly different, more akin to Jacques Cousteau and Alan Wicker off the TV. They must be famous or rich or somehow get paid to do it, they must have special motorcycles and special training and a support team and and and... "Abroad" is definitely not achievable for ordinary folks on CD200 Benlys and income support.

By my late 20's I'd been a dispatch rider and seen most of Northern England and a fair chunk of The Midlands. My father was living "daaan saaaaf" so I'd been there a few times. I hadn't been to Scotland yet. I was now a motorcycle instructor and that's how I met Ron Varey. He was a customer, taking his test so he could ride his Honda 650 Dominator - abroad! 

He introduced me to the idea that to go abroad you do not need to be a famous traveller or a millionaire (this was 1998, a million quid was a lot back then). Apparently going abroad was perfectly normal, thousands of motorcyclists did this every year and I could too. All I needed was a week's holiday, a few quid, and a tent. 

My first trip abroad was to Spain. I was terrified.

Then - get this - I find out that people have been all around the world on motorcycles! Again I thought these are "special" people, different from myself and those I know. I imagined they'd all have that thousand yard stare, a wisdom and calmness, a Zen like deep knowledge of people, places, and the internal workings of an engine. If a naughty policeman in Africa tried to bribe them they'd have a Crocodile Dundee knife and a cheeky grin that would smooth over the situation.

With the benefit of hindsight and age I can see that I was both immature and naïve, protecting my ego by making those more adventurous folks seemingly godly. If they were godly then I wasn't a failure, I just wasn't blessed with money and superpowers. 

In the intervening years I have met plenty of folks who've travelled abroad, and quite a few who've actually been all around the world. They're not anything special. They still have problems and personal issues, they still make stupid mistakes just like me, they're not filled with a special wisdom or Zen like calm, nor are they exceedingly wealthy. Don't get me wrong you can't go globetrotting on a pittance but you don't need a king's ransom either.

Nathan is a friendly normal human being who rode his Postie bike from Australia to the UK. 

This is where I fail in not comparing myself to others. Having met all these wanderers and learning they are merely mortal beings much like myself - I can't protect my ego by making then godly. In which case I am clearly a failure as a motorcyclist and a traveller because all I've done is dipped a toe into Europe a few times. I am comparing my own hum-drum trips to world travellers.

I know I know I know - my trips should be something I do for pleasure not bragging rights. Considering how unadventurous my personality actually is I ought to be chuffed at the trips I have achieved. I should measure my journeys against my abilities - or even better not measure them at all and enjoy them instead! Alas I am human and despite my pretences and protestations I do have an ego - comparison really is the thief of joy it seems.

That's all well and good, but you lot don't like it when I enjoy myself. 

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