The Road is My Home

With Joe and Diane for Steve's Birthday Pub Crawl 

Living the life of a motorcycle bohemian is wonderful, except I hate saying goodbye. I've never really done it well and simply avoided situations my entire life where I must say it.

Last night we told the Grumpy, Biggus and his wife Kim goodbye and I wept as we rolled away. They had been teasing me a bit about being so sad when I left Pagosa Springs after saying goodbye to Taryn and Jared. When we left there, I wept all the way to Durango, choking out a few hard sobs along the way.

It's not one person, it's everyone. All the people I've connected with over these last few years, the relationships that have developed into friendships I really cherish. I often stay in touch with people on social media to lessen the pain, but it's not the same. I miss my friends.

"You're taking it too personal!"

Grumpy, Biggus and Steve were trying to talk me out of it last week.

"I never feel that way when I travel."

"You just need to detach a little. . . "

As they spoke I did little to defend myself, because what they did was unimportant. I have just reached a point in my life where I truly care about others in a deep way. There's nothing wrong with that, and to be honest, I'm grateful I can feel so strongly for others.

Living as a motorcycle bohemian has taught me so many lessons, and this is just another. Perhaps it is that I should take no one for granted, and remember to treat every parting with serious regard. Love when you can, for perhaps there isn't a next time.

When I told my Father goodbye in August of 1990, I had no idea there wouldn't be a next time. I spent years wishing I would have stayed longer. . .

These lessons of travel have been so powerful for me that last year I started writing a book. I intended it to be a handbook of short lessons, but once an editor saw what I'd written, it became more. I've sent back my rewrites and now we are in the editing process again. My goal is to have it published by December 2014.

I don't know the title yet, but I know it's in there somewhere. These road lessons that become life lessons has been a consistent theme. I'll keep you all posted.

Now more than ever, I feel I have no home. The people I love are spread from California to Pennsylvania, Montana to New Mexico, Florida to Missouri to Colorado to South Dakota to Washington. My home lies withing their embrace, in those quiet moments of understanding, in the laughter over meals and the solitude of rides. I wonder now if I'm destined to wander forever, because it is certain for me in this moment that the road is my home.

My daughter Olivia, 9 months pregnant

Our friend and client, Betty Owen

Gabriele, Charleyn and Asphalt Annie in Colorado

My Uncle Reggie in Pennsylvania

Our friend Rania in Philly

Oktoberfest with my longtime friend and former classmate Becky

Hugging Margaret DreamCatcher in Starbucks

My former classmate and long time friend Kelly and her daughter Kassie

Joan and me in Sturgis