I was coming up on 30 years. I was fresh out of a relationship, my job had given me a long leash, and my friend's band was going on tour. With nothing holding me back, I got in the van and off we went. The good dude Rick Eusey also came along to serve as roadie and general party starter for the tour. Between goofin at gas stops, we had ample time to talk about most things. I was especially interested in his move to San Francisco from Indianapolis by way of his Harley-Davidson Sportster that he had spent the previous years building, cutting, shaping, and painting. I've been known to absolutely grill someone with questions if I'm interested in the topic. Rick was not spared and over the course of the tour, it became obvious. It was time for me to get a bike, a loud greasy engine for my own. As the tour pushed on, signs kept coming to me that this was more of a soul driven destiny than just a wantful whim. In San Diego we crashed with some buds who gave us a stack of Easyriders mags From the 80's to read in the van as kind of a goof before we left that morn. I poured over them with fantastic interest. Then in Phoenix, we partied with some of Rick's biker buds and they met my heavy questioning and answered joyfully. By the time we got Austin, I was eyeballing everything with two wheels. I made a pact with Rick to find me a bike when we got back to SF. It took less than a month, and a few weeks later I was ripping on my first bike trip to the Redwoods of Northern California. The camera always came with me.