Conclusion
12 days, 8 states, 3 countries, 4 bikes, 4000+ miles. You can’t beat a plan that outlines like that. We know the numbers aren’t entirely accurate now. 4 bikes did start, and they were all ridden in each state and country, but only three finished under their own power. Eh, close enough. And we didn’t actually ride in Mexico, but it wasn’t really worth the hassle to go that extra 50 feet. We got to the gate, we looked over into another country, more than many Americans do. I call it, we were there.
We took a few GPS-led detours, which gave us different insights into the same places. We saw things both natural and man-made that dropped our chins to the gas tanks and made us scramble for a turn out so we wouldn’t miss it. I found a new favorite road, and then a few days later replaced it with another new favorite road. Not as pretty maybe, but the best, purest road any of us had ever traveled.
Over 12 days three of us got sick, one not so bad and two pretty bad. We fell in love with Canada and its polite people and clean…well, everything. We stuck out in Idaho, ventured into Montana, sparked pegs in every state, and Too Good earned a new nickname (Pokey).
It was an incredible ride, full of everything any of us could have asked for and more. We were safe, the mechanical difficulties were at least timely, and at the most hilarious, and we rode like bikers, not weekend warrior chumps. We got twisted, got silly, got sick, got robbed by Indians, got attacked by Urban Assault Vehicles, and came out unscathed on the other side with pink tattoos, air fresheners, stickers, and a condom to show for it, along with incredible numbers on our personal odometers.
I see I never mentioned how we would shout from bike to bike, “Squirrel!” and point. You always knew someone saw a squirrel when an arm shot out to the side. I didn’t talk about how we would rev our engines at a stop to let the rest of the group know that we were about to jump to lightspeed, or how the bike in front or in the back would get bored and give a little wiggle of the handlebars and that wiggle would snake its way all the way up (or back) to the other bikes, somehow always missing Lillypad’s. Or how we would sometimes pull up next to a cager on the phone and pretend to text, or dial. I didn’t mention how I drank so much blue Poweraid I was sure it was going to start finishing the cycle blue too. I barely touched on the food we ate, and got fat on. Road food is yummy, but it sure ain’t healthy. Or how the first thing Too Good does when he enters a hotel room is turn on the TV, and the first thing Stitches does when she enters a hotel room behind Too Good is grinds her teeth. No, this journal was mostly about the ride, written at the end of each day as Too Good slept or watched TV, as Stitches knitted or slept, with the moon rising outside and sleep threatening to take over.
Six inches from Earth. What a great way to see the country.
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