The braaaap found me at the best time in my life. Far removed from the swampy concrete jungle of the past decade. In a new place without friends or family and reeking of outsider in a new area that was a few parts insular and a large part American dream of kids-house-church. The area was perfectly poised to awake anyone’s sense of adventure. It was beautiful, raw, packed full of dramatic exaggerations that your eyes refused to believe and I seethed with the desire to explore every inch of it.
The excitement found in exploring this place was unparalleled by any earlier life experiences. One day there were snowy back roads climbing through quite, contemplative mountains. Next there’s swooping downhill mountain biking with the brisk winter wind chill reminding you that yeah, you’re alive, and this is pretty fucking great. It was an awakening, a second wind found just in time, providing energy and purpose long missing. I wanted to punch Florida in the face, travel back in time, and punch myself in the face for staying so long. I bought a motorcycle instead.
My girlfriend calls it the green hornet. She says it’s cute. I like to think of my 2015 KLR 650 as the ultimate vehicle to survive the apocalypse, provide never-ending opportunities for adventure, and bullet-proof enough for me to beat the hell out of it on every Oregon back road I can find. I tell her that it’s cute now, but she will need to revaluate when our robot overlords rise and we use the KLR to escape to Canada. Everyone knows Robots want nothing to do with Canada, too much love and hockey and bacon.
So now I braaaap with you, my friends.