My fascination with two-wheeled journeys began freshman year in high school.
Three buddies told their parents that they were staying over each other's houses; we hit the road and bicycled through the night. The exhaustion, the moments of fear, the laughing made it memorable. I don't even remember if there was a destination. We were just going far.
It was a world shared by no one. All those people trapped in their cars going somewhere or sleeping the night away were getting nowhere. We were kings ruling our adventure kingdom.
Motorcycle trips are usually framed by weather reports and last week was scheduled to fall apart right in the middle. It really doesn't matter if the weather changes because that often creates an place to stop and you might just meet someone you wouldn't have met otherwise.
There is an unwritten law about not leaving on a trip in the rain. That's just miserable. This week turned out perfect with windows of clear riding and a rain stop just as planned in the middle.
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