The Adventures of Goldwing Bravo

In his book, "Walden" [1], Henry David Thoreau wrote, "The mass of men lead lives of quiet desperation." I've been there... Haven't you?  I mean, how much of our lives do we spend wasting time on trivial, meaningless things? I s'pose in the big picture we could argue that it's all meaningless, but that doesn't mean it has to be boring and trite.  

This is the quintessential reason I ride... I just didn't want my life to pass sitting on the couch watching TV.  

Live a life worth remembering, my friends. Smile. Eat the cake. Ride the rollercoaster. Live. Laugh. Love.   

[1] Thoreau, H. D. (1854). Walden; or, Life in the Woods. Boston, MA: Ticknor and Fields.

Some rides don't start the way you planned. Mine began with a dead battery, a forgotten manual saddlebag release, a quick YouTube tutorial, and enough walking back and forth to count as my morning workout. Fitting, really, because this would be my final June ride for the 400-Mile Challenge to End Alzheimer's. For a few frustrating minutes, the confusion and chaos gave me just a tiny glimpse of what this disease steals from so many families.  

Once the bike was rolling, though, the day turned into everything I hoped for. A gorgeous sunrise, the winding roads to Sugarloaf Mountain, breakfast 226 feet above the ground at the historic Citrus Tower, a stroll through downtown Clermont, and some outstanding Cajun dry-rub wings at Game On. I wrapped up June with exactly 970 miles ridden for the Alzheimer's Association. This one was for my dad. I think he would've enjoyed the ride.  

Ride safe... and I'll see you down the road.

The weather forecast called for rain. Naturally, I ignored it.  

Great roads, great scenery, great company, and an outstanding grouper sandwich made for a nearly perfect Florida riding day.  Nearly.  On the ride home, I found myself staring at a massive wall of thunderstorms stretching across the entire northern horizon. For a while, I convinced myself I might beat it home.  I was wrong. Very wrong.  

About 90 minutes from home, I rode straight into what felt like a waterfall and spent the next 40 minutes navigating heavy rain, standing water, and visibility that ranged from "poor" to "are you kidding me?"  I made it through safely, and once the storm passed, the rain-cooled air made for a surprisingly pleasant ride home.  

Sometimes the best rides aren't the dry ones.  

I was blessed to catch this beautiful sunrise on my way to Cape Canaveral Saturday morning.  

Many years ago, when I was a police officer working third shift in Huntsville, Alabama, there were occasional mornings when the radio was quiet, the paperwork was done, and I had a few precious minutes before the end of shift. On those days, I’d make my way up to Monte Sano State Park and park on the east side of the mountain overlooking the valley below.  As the darkness gave way to first light, I would sit and watch the sun climb above the horizon over the Flint River Valley. No traffic. No calls. No sirens. Just silence, fresh air, and a view that never got old.  Those moments were a reminder that no matter what kind of night I’d had, the world always seemed to hit the reset button at sunrise.  

While riding this morning, I found myself thinking about those days and those quiet moments on the mountain. Funny how a beautiful sunrise can transport you back decades in an instant and remind you just how quickly time goes by...  

Enjoy your day, my friend.  

So there I was, enjoying one of the greatest achievements in all mankind--the Sausage & Cheese biscuit from Hardee's when lo and behold...

I can't believe it's already been two months since I pointed the nose of my Goldwing south and set out for Key West.  

Since then, I've posted plenty of clips, snippets, sunsets, bridges, random roadside moments, and enough ocean views to make a landlocked person question all their life choices—but I thought maybe it was time to put together something bigger.  So this is it. 

This is The Road to Key West.  

You know, it's funny. Before this trip, Key West was the destination. The goal. The finish line. But somewhere along the way—somewhere between empty stretches of highway before sunrise, gas station coffee, endless bridges, and the sound of wind rolling around my helmet—the destination stopped mattering quite so much.  

What I remember most isn't arriving.  It's the road.  I don't really have the words to explain the level of contentment I felt out there. There’s something strange that happens when your only job for the day is to ride. No meetings. No deadlines. No notifications. Just miles, weather, music, thoughts, and the occasional realization that you've somehow been smiling inside your helmet for an hour.  

Ever since I got back, all I've wanted to do is go again.  This video isn't just the highlights reel.  It's the early mornings.  The long miles.  The random stops.  The beautiful views.  The exhaustion.  The peace.  And all the little moments in between that made this one of the most enjoyable rides I've ever taken.  

So grab a drink, kick back, and ride with me to Key West and back.  It'll be fun...