Doing the "Easy Rider" Thing

I'd venture to say that every die-hard biker has wanted to hook up with a buddy and spend a month or two riding motorcycles across the c...

I'd venture to say that every die-hard biker has wanted to hook up with a buddy and spend a month or two riding motorcycles across the country.

In my college days, my friend Greg and I often talked about doing that. We were going to ride our bikes, my 400cc Kawasaki, and his 450cc Kawasaki, across the USA and back. Looking back, those bikes were probably too small, and too uncomfortable to do such a ride. But we didn't care, we just wanted to leave everything behind and let our instincts take over.

There's a certain romanticism about doing that. Perhaps it harkens back to the days of the frontiersmen, like Lewis and Clark exploring the West, and going whereever the river takes them. It's an equalizer that takes a college graduate and a high-school dropout and makes them equal men by reducing their existence down to mere travellers who have little more than each other's company.

Not too long ago, my neighbor and I talked about the same thing. We were going to go on a really long run for a burger and beer, leaving home here in So Cal, and going up into Canada, and over to the northern-most tip of Maine. He was going to be Wyatt, and I was going to be Billy. But his wife ended up slapping him with divorce papers, and I haven't seen him in months.

Today, one of my riding buddies mentioned buying into one of those motorcycle tour packages, where they fly you out to Canada, or Europe, and you tour the countryside on BMWs. And then, another buddy mentioned riding up the Pacific Coast and back.

Last August, me and a few other riding pals left So Cal to go to the Four Corners Rally in Colorado. We spent six days of riding. On the way back, we met two other guys who were on their 23th day of riding. They came from Kentucky, and they were just putting around the countryside, seeing the sights, living free, and basically rolling the dice to see which town they'll ride to next.

As I'm getting older, I realize I'm not getting any younger. Everyone has to have a moment when they shove their foot up their boss' ass, and spend the next month living like nomads on motorcycles. Of course, I'm self-employed, and it probably won't work that way in my case. But I'm thinking that time is passing by, and I'm wondering if that moment is calling my name.

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