Before the end of the first week on my first cross-country camping trip, my bike tipped over twice. It took me 6000 miles and two windshields to learn how to pack.
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Tag: motorcycle travel
I couldn’t get enough of the retired zookeeper's stories about spitting snakes and reluctant-to-mate primates; one of my childhood fantasies was zookeeping!
Imagine being in a forest of sewing needles soaring thousands of feet above your head. You'd feel like a “Who” in Dr. Seuss’s classic book "Horton Hears A Who," wouldn't you?
Who needs a rainfly if you spray waterproofing stuff on your tent? As Pippin said in The Hobbit, “Short cuts make long delays.”
To my left, over the Postmaster’s door, was a mural that I somehow knew, even without an art history degree, had been hand painted in my grandparents’ time.
On the late June day we hit Oatman, the mercury hit 115?, so not even the reptiles were stirring. Why would we take a detour to see a tourist trap on such a hot day? To see the Oatman burros, of course.
Everything switches into slow motion as I became a motorcycle centaur, leaning through the series of wide sweeping turns. Road magic trumps time.
Navigating an unfamiliar and dynamic traffic pattern with a thousand other vehicles, Jiminy screeched, “Why didn’t you pull over?”
New Year’s Day is a great day for pushing your life’s reset button, and this series is designed to support you, using what I've learned from my own life reset.
Imagine the bliss of running 469 miles a two-lane ribbon of road connecting NC’s Great Smoky Mountains and VA’s Shenandoah National Park without a stop light.