If you're reading this blog entry, I'm assuming one of three things: you read the book, you heard about the book, or you haven't heard me stop talking about the book and I finally forced you to check out the website.
However you arrived, thanks for being here.
I have done a lot of different things in my life. A lot. I have lived many lives and survived many deaths.
But I had never lived as a writer.
I had also never taken a multiday motorcycle trip without a real agenda. Turning fifty seemed like the perfect time to do both.
So I did.
It's interesting how people—and I include myself in that group—tend to believe the goals they carry through life are always just out of reach. When, in fact, sometimes all you really need to do is begin. Put one proverbial foot in front of the other and start moving toward what you want to do, see, or become.
You will probably discover one of two things. At least I did.
First, you may find that the thing you dreamed about isn't actually what you wanted. You were more in love with the idea of it than the reality.
Second, you may find that it was easier than you expected, and all the excuses you told yourself for years suddenly look a little silly.
I didn't discover the first thing while writing this book, but it is part of what I wrote about.
I did discover the second.
Writing was something I had been preparing to do my whole life, but I had never given myself permission to follow through.
Maybe that permission comes with age and wisdom. Maybe it comes from taking a normal job and suddenly not knowing what to do with the other eight hours of the sixteen-hour days you used to work.
Either way, I learned.
The picture with this post was the first one someone sent me after receiving a copy of the book. Until then, it had mostly existed as words on a screen, files being uploaded, and boxes being checked. Seeing it in someone else's hands was the moment it became real.
Toward the end of writing the book, I realized something else: I didn't give a shit whether anyone liked it or not.
But the messages I've received from friends and strangers who have read it and told me it made them feel something, think about something, or simply enjoy the ride have made me happier than I ever would have guessed.
Thank you all.
It was mine.
Like me, it was flawed and imperfect.
But it was also alive.
Cheers.
More from the road
