The next morning, bright and early, I was on the road. My mind at ease. All the hard stuff behind me. I still had many more miles to go, but the tough stuff was over and my mind wondered as much as my motorcycle had over the last few days.
It would have been nice to write as I went. Not enough time though. And it would have been such a different trip. To have the time to write would mean less time on the road each day. Now yes, I had the miles to do in the time frame I had, but I didn't really feel hurried. I simply felt like I needed to ride. To burn up a set of tires for nothing better than... hell I don't know why. Or.. maybe I do, I just can't find the words to describe it. It's that reason I was trying to describe and talk about in the beginning of my thread; GET OUT THERE AND DO THOSE THINGS YOU REALLY WANT TO DO IN YOUR LIFE.. It'll be over too soon. Now I ain't dying or anything. But I have had a few years pass me by like I was sitting still. How do people let that happen. Why do we waste that precious time? Quite simply... it's a gift.