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Motorcycling as Spiritual Adventure

It was love at first sight. Perhaps it was recognition at first sight, as when two friends separated for a long time meet once more and resume where they left off. Whatever "it" was, John and I were astounded and unprepared. However having found one another, we resolved to journey together. Innocently we set off, not foreseeing we would meander through strange landscapes; terrifying emotional ones of jealousy and fear, blissful ones of perfect understanding, crazy kaleidoscopes of coming and going through exotic cities, pastoral countryside, dessert, ocean, field and mountain. Nor did we know that, as in every life, these spiritual, emotional, and physical territories would weave themselves indistinguishably together.

John and I were born into military families whose peripatetic lifestyle bred wanderlust into our bones. We've lived in seven countries on four continents, explored all over the globe and have visited or resided in most of our own fifty states. For twelve years the Kingdom of Saudi Arabia has been home but wherever we sink temporary roots, to travel has been our passion.

Given this preference for an itinerant life style, it isn't surprising that John's work as an airline captain is also his joy. To fly is to travel constantly and to live with a pilot is to share many of those travels.

Our explorations teach us that no excursion remains simple; no undertaking is only one dimension. The more we learn this, the more enamored of travel we become, seeing a significance in each trip that reverberates through the days following our return.

Most of our jaunts have been short voyages circumscribed by the requirements of work or family. Rewarding as these have been, we have longed for a real journey; a lengthy excursion through new territory, combining the qualities of pilgrimage, adventure, distance and renewal.

Some people have a "dream house", John and I have always had a "dream trip." Incipient builders, planning over a number of years, change dimension and style as their tastes change. We too changed our minds about which route to take but as often as the itinerary changed the mode of transportation remained the same -- a motorcycle.

I learned to love motorcycles on the back of a boyfriend's bike during my freshman year at Penn State. The rides on Jim's motorcycle seemed incredibly daring, adventuresome to me and his unconventional vehicle became associated in my mind with all the freedom and exhilaration inherent in leaving home for the first time.

Having already humored one aficionado, it didn't surprise me when our honeymoon turned into a bike trip despite having expected something different. When John's mother, Mary Lou, gave us a trip to Puerto Rico as a wedding present, I envisioned languid days on the beach followed by dancing under the stars and packed accordingly. Instead, wearing John's rolled up trousers, I toured the island on the back of a rented Kawasaki dirt bike. It set a precedence for the rest of our marriage and inspired us to envision the perfect trip. We've spent many hours since, imagining the excursion.

During the early years we wanted to blast through the Pyrenees on agile Italian Ducatis. No autobahns for us, the twistier, steeper and wilder the road the better; we longed for bouillabaisse, red wine and fast bikes. Or drive from Tierra del Fuego to Fairbanks or take a year or two off and circumnavigate Africa with the babies strapped to our backs. Poverty and ambition delayed and frustrated these grand schemes but there were lots of short trips on second-hand bikes we rented, borrowed or bought. Although we never got as far south as Magellan did, the world opened to us and we traveled extensively. Even so, John and I continued to fantasize about a series of long, leisurely motorcycle journeys. As time went on, though, and we began to dream of crossing our own continent.

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  • We started tracking this book on May 13, 2013.
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