The Art of Motorcycle Riding

I'm sure some of you will relate, even as passengers.

The Art of Motorcycle Riding

The wind against my face, the open road stretching ahead—there's nothing quite like it. The feeling of a motorcycle under you, of being alone in the elements, it’s a sensation that can't be shared, only felt. It’s freedom—pure and unfiltered. The wind might sting, the rain might soak, but when the sun breaks through the clouds, it's like the world has opened up just for you.

Riding in the tropics, especially in Florida, was the ultimate test for a motorcyclist. The heat, the salt in the air, the rain that could appear out of nowhere, all of it. I had always dreamed of it, but it wasn’t until the winter of 1999 that I finally decided to pull the trigger.

The Trip

Florida, 1999. I was restless, that kind of restlessness that gnaws at your insides when you know there's something you need to do, but you don't know exactly how to begin.

The weather was perfect. You could feel the promise of adventure in the air, like the universe had whispered, "Go ahead." And so, on a whim—after a heated argument with my girlfriend that ended with her doing most of the talking—I grabbed my backpack.