What I've learned so far:

It is just a bolt.  It's not the bolt's fault that I can't get it off.  A stripped screw that won't let go often sends me into a rage where I end up punching walls and yelling at babies.  I had to take a step back from the bike the other day and view it as the beautiful piece of machinery that it is.  The fact that little explosions send torque through the wheels to the road is quite the work of art.
This connects to this connects to this connects to this.  That's all it is.  So go get the right tools!  The right tool takes an impossible feat of strength and turns it into a two minute project.  Oh, and some times you just have to admit that the mechanic is the real man for the job.  A kind, helpful mechanic is someone to save in your phone and call a true friend.

Paper maps bring happiness to my heart and and peace to my mind.  Plan electronically but bring a road atlas.

Ask people that have been there before.  I had no idea Chaco Canyon existed.  Thanks, Joe.

Plan time to not have plans.  The best thoughts and views happen in the journey not the destination.

"Be small."
If I could recommend one thing for you to do on this trip that is what I would tell you.
Realizing just how small you are will help you be blown away by this big world.
And it will help you tell better stories.

Thanks, Mo.

"Two Idiots Going Across the Country on Motorcycles."
That's what we call our Google Doc we've been working on.
Very fitting.
Tiny pocket knife.
Slick hair.

No, we didn't do a photo shoot for no good reason.
We did it to document what we looked like at our final smiling moment.
And to have a profile picture for our CouchSurfing account.

I'm new to this whole motorcycle thing, but I'm pretty sure it is going to stick around.  

I realized it the other day when I was riding home from work.  It was sunny and I was flowing down the turning country road and I felt good.  I haven't even left on this "experience the world" trip of mine and I have experienced as much of the motorcycle world in one moment to know I will like it for life.  

I recognized it when I passed the third motorcyclist on this old road.  All three riders rode different style bikes, but all of them did the same thing.  

The wave.  

This is no ordinary greeting.  It has evolved over the years and has settled into the marrow of the riding culture.  

Distinct effort.

Slight wrist extension.

Left arm straightens beyond handlebar.

Two fingers.

Point down at the road.

Move on.

I laughed underneath my helmet when the third rider waved and passed, which is quite startling in that small of a space.  

We are all the same.  We don't all have the same back stories, life interests, or "Road Hog" jackets, but we just like to ride.  

I think I'm drawn to the wave because it signifies assuming you like someone before assuming you hate them.

And I like that.

This guy is talking about climbing mountains.  

Sort of.

"He rejects the here, is unhappy with it, wants to be farther up the trail but when he gets there will be  just as unhappy because then it will be "here."  What he's looking for, what he wants, is all around him but he doesn't want that because it is all around him."

Don't ask for your days to disappear.

Some day they just might.

I like the feeling of holding a book that holds words that hold weight.  

It helps me hold on.

Most of the books that I end up loving I start out not liking.

The books I love most are the ones that help me notice new things.

Life feels better the more you notice it, and reading this stuff helps me see. 

However, today my bookmark held the idea that opened my eyes.

"Are you ready to be less than a mere drop in the bucket--to be so totally insignificant that no one remembers you even if they think of those you served?"

What is my true motivation?
Is pride even in the heart of the things that should be most sacred?
What do I think about when I sing to God in a crowd of people?

At the core of true service is total dismissal of self.

In the middle of the mess there is majesty.
-David Crowder

A child is born with no senses.
He can't see, can't hear, can't taste, can't touch, can't smell.
Now, suppose that he is hooked up to tubes and somehow fed intravenously for eighteen years.
Would this child have a single thought in his head?
If so, where would it come from?
Is not everything you know derived from your senses?
Does that mean that our world exist simply as the brain's reaction to what it senses?
Is all knowledge just impressions taken directly from our senses?
Does the world exist entirely in our minds?
What about the things we know exist, but we can't technically sense...like time?

Or is there something else, some other source, that interacts with us beyond what we can observe with our senses?

Weird.
Sorry about that.
Just distracted.

Wear his dust.

"To be chosen by a rabbi in Jesus’ day was the highest honor bestowed on a young man.
When a Rabbi said, 'Come, Follow me,' there was an old Jewish saying that said to follow a rabbi was to 'be covered with the dust of his feet.'  When Jesus said, 'Come and follow me,' the disciples knew exactly what he meant.  It was the Hebrew custom to walk very close to your rabbi or teacher so that you could learn of his ways in every area of life.  Following so close, you would wear his dust."

This.

That.

This.

Don't forget that.

Blah.

Blah.

What?

I've been running in many directions recently.

Not in a bad way.

I've loved it and I haven't even really felt that worn out until today.

It isn't a physical wear and tear, but a spiritual one.

Haven't read.

Haven't blogged.

That needed to end.

It was the party last night that reminded me.

Sometimes dancing is just what you need to clear your mind.

I caught so many glimpses that I don't want to forget.

It's always good to have a party thrown in to keep the perspective right.
Oh and always sit in photo booths.

I wrote these quotes down a long time ago:

"Faith, by its very measure, must be tried."
"'Yes Lord, but...' is said by one who is fiercely ready but never goes."
"You can't plan Pentecost."
"What we call the process God calls the purpose."
"I know the two greatest commandments and I had better get on with them."
"Commands become divinely easy once we obey."
"We do the things that can be tabulated but we do not intercede for others in prayer.  Intercession is the one thing which has no snares."
"What God desires is that I see Him walking on the sea with no shore, no success, nor goal in sight but simply having the absolute certainty that everything is all right."
"No excuses."
"It requires a serious heart and a determined mind to pray past the ordinary and into the unusual."
"Worship beyond emotion."
"Forsake all and you will find all."

The first ride.

There's quite a story behind this bike.

Initially I thought I would be riding a 1969 BMW R75 across the country.  It was a rough looking beauty, but the character didn't scare me.  As it turns out, it was going to cost too much money to fix it up so that put a quick halt on driving a vintage bike for 10,000 miles.  Some day though...some day when there are a few more coins in the bank.  

Then came the 1982 Honda GL500.  I found it on a Friday and was going to drive to pick it up the following day.  Yeah, the maroon had quite the '82 hew to it, but the saddlebags came with it and the owner was very knowledgable about its condition.  So it was settled...I thought.

About two hours after deciding to go pick up the GL500 I received a phone call.  Lauren's dad had just heard that I was planning on taking the trip.  He told me he was excited for me and that he wanted me to take his bike.  

Now, he rides a Honda 1300 VTX.  This is quite a few levels up from the beater that I was looking at. The number 1300 is actually how many times nicer this bike is than any bike that I was going to be able to afford.  It's in amazing shape and it isn't the color of your grandmother's Cadillac.  I was blown away.  Still am.  At first I didn't think I could accept.  But through his generosity and some hours spent learning how to accept a gift, it will be the bike that rolls over every mile from here to California and back.  

I'll have to show you a picture of the route later.