I love motorcycle adventures. I love the anticipation of preparation and the subsequent glow upon returning home after a successful journey. I love the human interaction encountered while traveling and I love the freedom, most of all. The freedom to take a deep breath of daring, exposing the underbelly of desire found sleeping within, then setting it free with a grin. Grinning, I mounted my trusty moto-steed and headed north solo; embarking on a 15-day adventure to visit country I had yet to experience. My GPS presented a healthy dose of craziness traveling over 7 states and 2 Canadian providences and nearly 3100 miles, a less than daunting sum for the serious Iron Butt explorer. However, not being part of the IBA, I was feeling like this was substantial mileage, that and the fact, I needed to walk before I could run. Double checking my bags, to make sure all zippers were zipped and all was properly attached, I gave a passionate kiss to my husband and rode east to Winnemucca, NV, the first gas stop before turning north to no-woman’s-land. The road was a glorious surface, abeit boring. The long straight sections made speed easily accessible and cautionary resolve indifferent. Looking ahead, I thought of the early explorers contemplating the end of the earth and dropping off into the unknown. The unknown was miles ahead and when I arrived it was reset to begin yet again, becoming my mileage purgatory.