A motorcycle blogger in Dubai who refuses to stop chasing stories on two wheels.
Between the Dubai deserts and Canadian backroads, I share rides, lessons, and laughs — with a little banter (and a few bike falls) along the way.
Welcome to MotoMoku: Gears, Years & GenX Fears — the home of one slightly over-aged, overly adventurous motorcycle blogger in Dubai who refuses to stop chasing stories on two wheels.
I'm Asad Mir — known on here simply as Mir. GenX rider, content creator, Pakistani-Canadian expat, and the guy behind the MotoMoku channel. I live in Dubai because my job brought me here, and I stay because my BMW R1250 GS Adventure — named Manchalee — has made it very difficult to leave.
I started riding motorcycles later in life. And I mean later. I was 57 when MotoMoku properly began. I was also, at that point, nearly 340 pounds. I do not tell you this for sympathy — I tell you because it directly explains what happened next.
When you weigh close to 340 pounds and try to buy motorcycle riding gear, you quickly discover that the riding gear industry has strong opinions about body size. Finding quality, safety-rated gear that actually fits when you are that size is genuinely difficult — frustrating in a way that is hard to describe unless you have stood in a gear shop, tried on jacket after jacket, and quietly put them all back.
That frustration became my motivation. I started taking weight loss seriously — with medical support including Mounjaro — and over the next 10 months, I lost almost 100 pounds. The riding became more comfortable. The gear started fitting. The bike felt different beneath me. And somewhere in those 10 months, the motorcycle stopped being a hobby and started being something more central to who I am.
I am not telling this story to inspire anyone in a motivational-poster kind of way. I am telling it because it is true, and because MotoMoku is built on honest stories — not a curated highlight reel of someone who had it all figured out from the beginning.
My kids are all grown up and living in Canada now. I am Canadian, technically — the kind of Canadian who has spent most of the last two decades living in Dubai because work brought me here and the roads kept me here. My wife, who is a professor and treats me like a student at home (I have accepted this and find it mostly fair), has generously allowed me to indulge this motorcycle hobby. I say "allowed" very loosely. She knows I am going to ride regardless. What she has given me is the space to do it without guilt, which, if you are married, you understand is a significant gift.
The empty nest hit differently than I expected. When your youngest packs for university in Canada and the house goes quiet, there is a version of yourself that you have to figure out again. The rides became part of that process. Early mornings on Jebel Jais. Long solo runs through the desert before Dubai wakes up. Karak chai at a petrol station with no particular agenda. These rides are not just exercise or entertainment — they are thinking time, in the best sense.
You cannot talk about MotoMoku without talking about Moku. The name is not coincidence.
My daughter Saniya was allergic to cats her entire childhood. She also desperately wanted one her entire childhood. These two facts coexisted in a state of permanent tension. Then one day, she found a small, slightly injured cat outside our home in Dubai. Someone had abandoned it — we suspect a breeder who had no more use for it, because it was an unusually beautiful animal. Saniya did what she always did: she started feeding and petting it immediately.
Then something strange happened. No allergic reaction. For the first time in her life, a cat was not trying to destroy her immune system. She declared — with the confidence of someone who has waited years for this moment — that we were keeping it.
We named him Moku. Our house help Laura, who had been with our family for 10–15 years and whose own story deserves its own article (and has one), became his primary caregiver. She taught Saniya how to care for him. Moku became a household member in the fullest sense — a small, territorial, indoor-only dictator who had strong feelings about open doors.
The open-door situation was genuinely complicated. Moku had no survival instincts worth speaking of — the few times he got outside as a kitten, he was back injured within hours. We decided he would be strictly indoor. Which meant that every early-morning ride departure became a stealth operation. Opening the front door at 4:30 AM while a curious cat circles your feet is a specific kind of stress that I do not think the motorcycle community talks about enough.
When Saniya left for university in Canada, and Laura decided it was time to return to the Philippines after more than a decade with us, Moku went with Laura. It made sense — Laura loved him, Saniya was not there, and Moku deserved someone who was fully present. He is living comfortably in the Philippines now, presumably still being dramatic about doors.
Moku is not with us anymore, but his name stays on the channel. He was there at the beginning. He is part of this.
Manchalee is my BMW R1250 GS Adventure — the first motorcycle I ever bought, and the subject of more YouTube videos than I originally planned. There are videos on why I bought it, how I learned to ride it, what I have attached to it, and what it has done to my weekends.
Over time, I have added bags, cases, mounts, racks, gadgets, and a collection of accessories that have turned Manchalee into what I can only describe as a fully equipped mobile adventure unit — for adventures I have not yet taken. I have never been motorcycle camping in the UAE. I have all the gear for it. I have the bike for it. I have the desire for it. What I do not yet have is an experienced camping companion who can help me understand how to actually execute an overnight UAE motorcycle camping trip without it becoming a minor disaster.
So if you are an experienced UAE motorcycle camper and you are reading this: please get in touch. I am ready. Manchalee is ready. The bags have been ready for quite some time.
Because life after 50 doesn't mean slowing down — it means shifting gears. As a motorcycle rider in Dubai, I ride with groups like Pakistani Riders Group (PRG), GS Nation UAE, and Bad Monkeys MC, test out local gear shops, and document what riding in the UAE actually looks and feels like — the heat, the roads, the clubs, the karak, the 4:30 AM starts, the camaraderie.
Manchalee teaches me patience. Moku — wherever he is — taught me humility. And I try not to fall off too often. The key word there being "try."
If you're looking for adventure, humor, and proof that aging on two wheels is not a crisis but a privilege — you're in the right place.