The beginning... in the middle. (A helpful Q&A to get you started)

This is it. My blog. After all these months, I've only just begun...

This is the story of how in July of 2005 I left New York City and a real life for a ride across the Americas on a motorcycle. How a call to chaos quickly transformed into a story of grease and leather and the smell of gasoline. This is my adventure. Enjoy.


(photo by D.Y. Bechard)


FREQUENTLY ASKED QUESTIONS:

Q. What kind of bike do you drive?
A. I drive a Honda Shadow ACE 750. It's a cruiser, all black and chromey and when not caked in mud is a mechanical Playmate of the Month. I adore it. It weights 505 pounds (same as a 12-foot bull shark) without gas or luggage, has a 3.7 gallon fuel tank and chugs out a pretty consistent 55 miles to the gallon.

The "750" refers to the engine size -- or if you're a glutton for technical details, to the capacity of the combustion chamber in the engine cylinder, measured in cubic centimeters (CCs). The larger the chamber, the more fuel and air it will hold, thus the stronger the "combustion" it produces and the more power the bike has. (I know I'm screwing this all up for the sake of simplification and that the actual explanation involves bores and strokes and displacement, but let's just be clear right now that I am not a mechanic... and I've gotten along just fine). There are bikes as small as 50 CCs (not highway-legal) and as large as 2,000 CCs (probably even beyond). Mine is perfectly suited for my purposes (though I do sometimes hear a whisper of "I think I can" when we accelerate or charge up large hills). So far this bike and I have covered almost 20,000 miles in the US, Canada and Mexico.

**Not long after posting, I was informed by a kind expert on the Motorcycle USA boards that my information is far from accurate. He writes: "50cc means that the pistons displace 750cc as the crank rotates one time... The displacement is the radius of the cylinder squared times Pi times the distance the piston moves (the "stroke") times the number of cylinders. I'd imagine your bike has a compression ratio of about 10 to 1, so that means your combustion chambers are only around 43cc each, as 750+43+43 = 836 and 836/86 = 9.72. This is not exact, (because I guessed at the compression ratio, and) as no 750cc motorcycle is exactly 750cc." Ok, I kind of get it. Kind of.**

The "ACE" stands for American Classic Edition; it's a Honda bike but was produced at a plant smack dab in the middle of the American heartland -- Marysville, Ohio. Coincidentally, I bought it in the same state a few hundred miles to the north from a man I found on Ebay whose four kids welcomed me at the airport with a crayon-made sign of my name and a can of 7UP.

Q. Why don't you drive a dual sport BMW with all the convenient metal storage cases and off-road capabilities?
A. Oh, wouldn't that have been tremendously easy. And practical. Certainly I'd never afford myself either of these luxuries.

I did, actually, look into getting the dual-sport BMW F650. But, as indicated by the term "dual-sport", this bike will hop off road just as easily as it will hop onto the freeway... Since this is a solo expedition and I generally tend to test my boundaries with things, I decided that with a bike that goes off road I would no doubt end up off-road. And probably, at some point or another, off road, wrecked, hanging over the edge of a canyon. I know far too little about motorcycles, dirt and the world in general to toy with freedoms of such massive proportions. My reasoning:

If... BMW F650 = Freedom from pavement = Increased opportunity for off-road expedition (IOORE)

And... IOORE + general feeling of invincibility + total disregard for mother's cautions = Perilous off-road situation far from reach of human contact (PORSFFROHC)

And... PORSFFROHC = Possible to near certain death and resulting multiple-day search party at enormous cost to local police force, also disrupting the nearby small-town whose inhabitants close shop to volunteer with search

Then... BMW F650 = Bad for the economy. And my life.

Q. How did you decide to do this? When?
A. There was certainly a lifetime of build-up, but the actual decision? It kind of seems like I just woke up one morning and thought to myself, “Next year I will learn how to ride a motorcycle, buy one and ride it across the continent.” Then I got dressed and left for work. It was really that arbitrary. I hadn’t heard of Ewan McGregor, hadn’t seen Motorcycle Diaries, and hadn’t been dating a Hell’s Angel. It just seemed like fun -- an adventure. I do love adventures.

(Of course, if you examine at the daily routine into which this decision was embedded and the mental constrictions imposed by the physical New York City landscape over an extended period of time, combined with a career field burning with all the excitement of a pre-arranged marriage, there’s a philosophical case to be made that a trip with no schedule and a machine without doors was a choice born of deeper roots… but that’s not fit for the FAQ)

Q. Where do you sleep?
A. Now that I'm in Mexico, I jump around between hostels and budget hotels (which can be had for $10 a night and under and host a surprising number of travelers over 25). I do carry a tent and sleeping bag bungeed to the back of the bike and while I was in the US I did a lot of camping in national parks or on BLM land (because it's free! All 261 million acres).

However... there are times when night jumps up on you like a bum on a freight train and so you knock around in the dark until you find a place to fall. I have slept in an abandoned RV, on deserted beaches, on a bunk in a VW Vanagon, in the Temple of the Red Velvet Jesus, tucked into a canyon with grazing cattle, in the guest house of a local judge, on numerous strangers’ couches, in trucker motels coast to coast, etc. etc. One time I was invited to stay at a firehouse but had to decline, with regret. I am most appreciative to all those who have taken me in for the night and equally appreciative to those who would like to do so in the future.

Q. Aren't you scared/afraid?
A. This is an incomplete question. The correct question is "Aren't you scared/afraid of...?" If you're asking whether I'm scared of being a woman alone on a motorcycle (in Mexico), the answer is no. It's nowhere near as dangerous as your mother or the State Department would have you believe, and clearly, I'm doing it, aren't I? I don't know too many people with a fear of the dark who lock themselves blindfolded into a closet at night.

If, however, you're asking whether I'm scared when there is a wild, frothing boar ripping through my tent or if I'm scared when I wake up in a bloody bathtub full of ice with a suspicious-looking incision across my kidney area (scenarios not based on actual incidents), then the answer is yes, certainly. Do I worry about the possibility of such things happening? Well, luckily, there are plenty of other people who do all that work for me.

Q. Are you taking pictures? Where can we see them?
A. Only a fool wouldn’t eat and sleep with a finger on the shutter on a trip like this. And only a fool wouldn’t back-up 5,000 digital pictures with the singular dedication of a Jamaican bobsledder while traveling through places where an American accent translates into “Steal from Me” in perfect Spanish. (Would take an even bigger ninny to be pursuing professional photographic opportunities and not back-up).

What a fool I am. My computer was stolen, my pictures were not backed up. So find my laptop and you can see ALL my pictures. Otherwise, there is a mutt selection on Flickr that I’ll begin (someday) to add to on a more consistent basis. There’ll be pictures on the blog too.

Q. Do you carry a phone?
A. I had a phone until February 18, 2006. Then there was the incident involving a yacht, a stolen... er, borrowed... kayak, and a certain quantity of whisky. The phone is no longer with me. (I hesitate to use the word lost; I like to think of it as more of a sacrifice to the gods ascertaining my death will never arrive from the sea). As I've continued to live and breathe without Cingular-branded chimes resonating from my back pocket, there are no current plans for a replacement.

Q. How long do you plan to travel?
A. Until my bank account runs dry and I can’t find any more bottles to return for a deposit.