On the Road

People often ask how difficult it is to pack for six weeks on a motorcycle. It's pretty easy when you get in the groove. Simplicity is the watchword. Oh, and quick-dry fabrics.

Friday morning my traveling companion, Dusty, and I turned east at Reedsport, Oregon.  From this point, daylight will no longer be on our side...moving south and east means shorter days.

We talked about my affiliation with Conga for the Cause, why we ride for the National Breast Cancer Foundation and how to join us on this year's trip either in spirit or on the road. It was on Sidestands Up that I announced a book I'm writing for folks who think a cancer diagnosis is a death sentence, which it is NOT. The book will feature women motorcyclists who've either survived cancer or continue living with it. You can help me name the book here

Prompt: How did you travel in 2010? How and/or where would you like to travel next year?

The outlaw Jesse James holed up there. A quick internet search revealed that he wasn't the nastiest villain to do so. Why do we celebrate rogues and gangsters?

When I planned my 2010 road trip, three destinations were set in stone, including Hannibal, Missouri, birthplace of America's best, brightest and most prescient social observer, Mark Twain.

Any motorcyclist will tell you to GET OFF the interstates to find the soul of a place and I did that whenever possible. Using my trusty Roadside America I found plenty to do along Highway 36 after leaving Colorado, beginning with They Also Ran, also known as the "Gallery of Presidential Also-Rans. "

Looking back, I don’t know why I expected the Wyoming Frontier Prison Museum to be fun. Perhaps I succumbed to the pop culture that celebrates and immortalizes crooks like Jesse James, Billy The Kid, Butch Cassidy and The Sundance Kid but sends into obscurity saints who raise orphans and nurse the sick.

Stopping in Logan,UT for a bite to eat, my pink bra caught the attention of the manager, who asked about my ride and where I was headed. Turns out I would have missed Bear Lake if she hadn't reached out, and that would have been most unfortunate.

One of the Conga founders, a Canadian named Flo Fuhr, told me something that I took to heart. “Tam, the people who ride with you are doing it because they want to take care of you. Let them do that -- let them take care of you.” And take care of me, they did.