Readers of this blog know that I am an avid touring class motorcycle rider and enjoy opportunities to ride in scenic places in the United States.
A long, long, LONG time ago, when I was on a first-name basis with Julius Caesar, I rode a cousin’s Ducati from Rome, Italy, to Naples, then on to Sorrento, then on the most iconic (and frightening) ride to Salerno along the Amalfi Coast (dodging sheep, goats, and trucks on very narrow, curvy roads.)
However, that was NOT the most adventurous ride I had ever done. A few months later, I found myself in Anchorage, Alaska. I rented a bike especially built for off-road motorcycling. Together with three buddies, we rode the Alaska Highway through mud, snow, rivers, and a million mosquitos to arrive in Dawson Creek, British Columbia. Two weeks, 2,000 miles, 20 million bugs removed from my teeth later, we arrived.
Ah man, what great experiences to have had. These days, there is no way I could endure or want to take such rides. Honestly, I do not know how I survived those two awesome adventures on a motorcycle. (Age of being “invincible,” I guess.)
Then I went to work; real work; real job; didn’t leave much time for motorcycling except for commuting and weekends around home.
I renewed my interest in adventure riding back in …