It has been two weeks since I came back home from the Ride. The trip is over and it’s time to write. I am going over my notes, the raw video footage, and the pictures, and reliving the fabulous time on the road. Everything is back to its normal course apart from one thing: the bike is not back yet. As I am laying comfortably in my bed, that loyal steed is being hauled in the back of a truck, slowly making its way home. Then finally, this morning, a truck pulled over in front of our house and the black bike came back, still dirty from that unexpected So Cal rain. The saddlebags are stuffed with cleaning spray and rags, and with 5793 miles worth of memories.
I pushed the switch and it roared back to life ready to go. As soon as the truck left I jumped out on its back and rode into town. The air was cold, and full with thin drizzle. It’s good to ride again. Perhaps a few riding days left in between snow storms and black ice, and plenty of time to write the book, reflect on the experience, and perhaps start planning the next adventure.
