But, not my last! I started hearing about murmurings of Moab late last year. Having just gotten back from a week long trip to SW Colorado, I didn’t even consider it an option. I knew a lot of the people that were going, and they all continued to pester me about trying to make it happen. My biggest hurdle would be convincing my wife that she should watch the kids by herself while I spend a week’s vacation playing with motorbikes. I put together a careful plan. The first part of the plan was to make my wife aware of the trip. Then, I would work on bringing up reasons that I should go – but I needed to start with step one. So, I used our mutual friend @Mow-ree and told my wife that he was going. Her response? Well you should go, too. You’re not getting any younger after all! Well, my wife calling me old and giving me the green light to ride in Moab was both exciting and a kick in the gut. But, whatever – I didn’t have to formulate the rest of my plan! My trip started April 6th at O’dark thirty. Had my 250 EXC and 300 TXT loaded in the trailer and I pulled them a little over an hour to SW Wisconsin. I ended up catching up to Mow-ree about 10 miles from our rendezvous point and followed him the rest of the way to meet Paul. The tentative plan was for Mow-ree and I to bring both a dirtbike and a trials bike. There was room for 4 bikes in my trailer, and one in the back of the truck. Unfortunately, that left very little room for any of our luggage or gear. We were looking at 20+ hours in the truck each way and didn’t want to be cramped for the ride. So, we left the trials bikes behind, loaded up the rest of the bikes, hitched my trailer to Paul’s truck and we were off – right on schedule. We made good time across IA – I don’t think we stopped at all. Pretty sure we rolled into Omaha, and stopped for gas with 6 miles to spare. We were very empty. I think it was here that we noticed that one fender was getting a bit floppy. I went to inspect it and found that one of the 4 bolts had fallen out. This allowed the rest of the fender to move, and the constant wiggling had caused 2 of the 3 remaining mount points to break off. It was only holding with one remaining bolt. And if that broke, it’d make a mess of our tire. So, some quick gas station surgery, and I pull the fender, threw it in the trailer and we were back off and running. Stopped in Brighton Colorado for some chicken wings, beers and a few hours of sleep.