It’s been a hell of a go. I write to you today from Bocas del Torro. This morning we crossed the border into our 9th and final country, Panama. We’ve traveled by motorcycle across the majority of the continent of North America. We’ve covered 7,636 miles. We’ve crossed 9 international borders. We’ve wrecked, been half frozen, stared down oncoming 18 wheelers in our lane, survived Montezuma, Mexico, Extortion, Bribery, each other and so, so much more.
In the next couple weeks I will realize a dream. I will have driven the entirety of continental North America from the Artic Circle in Alaska to the Panama Canal. I will have visited all 10 of her countries at length.
It seems like not so long ago I was strapping our gear to the bike for the first time a flutter with anticipation.
As I look back from Panama across the miles and countries we’ve covered this winter it’s a bit of a blur. Every day continues to be yet another adventure, but at its most basic level it is a struggle to keep on. We’re tired. The scope of what we’ve done and what we’ve accomplished has hardly set in. Looking backward from this moment is but peering through a whirlwind of memories I’ve yet to digest.
There are definitely mornings when the thought of pushing the motorcycle down the road another 100 miles is less than appetizing. My body is tired. It’s not the age. It’s the mileage.
We lost the computer charger a couple weeks ago and I’ve had to use the battery and random chargers we’ve come across for the real work. The problem is resolved now, but the blog has fallen behind. I’ll catch it up at some point, but I can’t say exactly when that will be.
The motorcycle feels about the same way I do, beat. She needs new tires, a valve adjustment, a carb sync, spark plugs, wires and more. I have no doubt that we’ll all make it to Panama city running on fumes, duct tape and good will.