Go West Young Man!

32 Days and 5,536 Miles On My Vintage Motorcycle

I'm riding through the broiling desert air in my skin tight sport pants with purpose. Jordan and I intersect i-10, the deep Souths main artery, and rejoin civilization. In the hottest September air of my life the California border station slows the interstate procession to a crawl and I'm quickly waved through. Jordan continues on and I stop just long enough to snap a picture and stretch a big dumb grin across my face. I built a machine that took me exactly where I wanted to go. It felt great.

I call our buddy Justin in LA who is waiting for us to arrive and to start the second leg of our trip. "Hey, it's me. We'll be there in 4 hours." Click.


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