The whole mobile shindig began ten years before, when Dad bought the same Suzuki that I later rode to Alaska. We were on our first motorcycle camping trip together. Dad started his mental gears meshing and rolling when he saw my early interest in motorcycles at the age of twelve, and he was thinking ahead. A future journey was born.
Neither of my parents had the opportunity to go to college, and it was very important to them that both my brother and I had that opportunity. While Dad and I sat around a crackling campfire, poking at the coals, he said we would go on a motorcycle trip to Alaska together if I graduated from college. That seemed cool to a budding teenager, but it was a long way off. But I finally did receive that piece of paper proclaiming my graduation in 1989, and Dad was true to his word as always.
For me, the real planning and contemplating began two years before this trip. I had essentially forgotten about the whole promise while still a teenager, but sophomore year of college Dad nonchalantly reminded me that I needed to get a motorcycle license so I could start practicing well in advance of our long journey. He was actually getting serious about this stuff… So we started making some vague plans. Specific itineraries were too restrictive. The trip became an ongoing source of conversation and a filter for what we read.
He started teaching me how to ride a motorcycle. No complaints there. I did not need a reason to hop on a motorcycle; having a larger goal just made it better. Besides, this was a “good solid reason” that would pass Mom’s approval test.
As June came near, our local newspaper The Aegis had a big spread about us. They loved the concept of the very long distance father and son trip, and they really liked something unusual to splash ink onto their newsprint. So right after hauling all my college stuff back from Tufts, we met a reporter at Dad’s place of work. The rain was heavy and I arrived for the interview wet in a couple embarrassing spots. Some of my leather even shrunk. Upon our return from this journey, we had another big story in the newspaper summarizing our tale for the locals, which sparked another wave of interest from everyone around.
Dad was well-wished by many people that he saw prior to rolling away from our little town of Jarrettsville, and we attained a small level of local notoriety after that Aegis article hit the stands. One of my high school teachers gave me a call to wish me well, as well as friends I had not heard from in a long while. I even talked to the owner of our local garbage disposal company over the phone; I had no idea who he was but he was very enthusiastic since he had been on long motorcycle trips himself. Many relatives and friends wished us well and, of course, told us to drive safe…
The journey ahead was set to open my eyes to the possibilities of the world. Its beauty, its people, its possibilities, its hidden nooks and open expanses. And it served as a “can do” bridge to life beyond home and college. This was all very possible, very real, and about to begin.