Alaska is still a couple of miles further down the road, but we have started the first rotations of our wheels in pursuit of Prudhoe Bay. With a new motorcycle under our legs, Marisa and I bid farewell to Chicago, and headed towards a pair of Overland Expo that are taking place in Flagstaff, AZ and Bend, OR.
The last time we headed west out of Chicago, we didn't make it very far as the motorcycle broke down on a bridge that crossed the Mississippi River. But this time around, in a feat of what seemed to be an overwhelming accomplishment, we came to the bridge, pulled over, and did a little dance once we were on the other side.
"Let's not celebrate too early," I said to Marisa.
"I say we celebrate each and every success from here to Mongolia," she replied.
As usual, Marisa was correct, and I then wanted to focus on every victory no matter how small. In doing so, we would build a stronger team between the trio of man, woman, and machine. It had only been under six hours of traveling, but I leaned in and kissed Marisa as if we had just summited the peak of Mount Everest.
The two of us remounted the motorcycle and took off further down the road in the quest of lifelong memories.
I knew there would be battles ahead of us that would test us both mentally and physically. Moments that would throw us off balance and leave us anxious about how things would play out. But as prepared as we could be for those instances, there was no reason to worry about them now. The victories along our journey would far outnumber the failures. And every day that the wind blew through my open visor would be a good day.
Just as my positive energy was creating a small vortex of bliss and wonder around me, changing me for the better through the enlightenment of positive outlook, a wasp flew into my helmet. I began to panic as I pulled over to the side of the road, swearing and digging into the pads to remove whatever foul creature was attacking me. I was repeatedly stung by not only the wasp, but the reality check that it would take more effort than just wishful thinking to get us safely to the most northern point of the United States.
My inflated ego was quickly replaced with a swollen cheek. But Marisa tended to my wounds and dug out some Benadryl to help with the swelling. The three of us (Marisa, the motorcycle, and myself) would have to look out for each other as we made our way north. We would inevitably all spring leaks, from oil to tears of frustration, but we had the resources and knowledge that could get us out of the troubles that we would encounter. Marisa was my JB Weld and could patch me up better than I could a corroded radiator.
Our first night was spent camping just across the border of Missouri. As we lay in our tent, Marisa and I could not have been happier to be traveling again under the stars and tucked between the trees. The sounds of birds chirping and running water that had been muffled by the hustle and bustle of city life were now the only things that could be heard.
I knew that we would have to once again find the rhythm of life on the road. And even though my cheek had swelled to the point that it blocked half of my vision, I could still clearly see our path to success. All I had to do was to keep my head up, my visor down, and absorb the warmth and positivity of my loving wife as she fueled the dream more than the gas in the motorcycle.
The first day of our trip to Alaska had more wisdom packed into it than sardines in a tin. I couldn't wait to see what other lessons I would learn as we continued our newest adventure together.
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