Someday I'm going to write a poem and a letter. Someday I'm going to get that faculty together. I'm looking out the shop door, four o'clock on Friday. It's my last day at work as I get ready to head out on a journey. I'm not really sure how far back I need to go to get to the beginning. I think it was about thirty one years ago when I was thirteen. I crept silently from my bed, taking care not to step on either of the creaky stairs that would alert my parents to my activity. I made my way into the garage where the shiny Chrome BMX bike I had cajoled from my grandparents was waiting. I lifted the heavy door inch by inch, just far enough to duck under it into the warm night air. My whole body tingled as I swung my leg over and rolled silently down the driveway and felt the breeze build as gravity pulled me down the street under the lights. We lived up above the town on a hillside so it didn't take me long to make my way down the familiar streets, somehow different in the night, that led to the top of the big hill into town. I paused at the top, knowing that I'd have to get back up but without too much concern, I let it roll on. I'll come back to that part of the story later but I mention it because I feel the same today. I'll be leaving in a week to ride my VStrom to South America. I know someday I'll need to ride back up the hill but for today, it's time to stand on the pedals and feel the wind push the tears from the corners of my eyes as I go.