[x_section style=”margin: 0px 0px 0px 0px; padding: 45px 0px 45px 0px; “][x_row inner_container=”true” marginless_columns=”false” bg_color=”” style=”margin: 0px auto 0px auto; padding: 0px 0px 0px 0px; “][x_column bg_color=”” type=”1/1″ style=”padding: 0px 0px 0px 0px; “][x_text]One year ago I traveled to Ecuador. Met strangers and convinced them to let me climb onto the back of the motorcycle. Pairing down my belongings to a single small bag, I promised to be a fun and upbeat passenger in return for the chance to ride two-up across rarely seen equatorial lands.
Bumping down dirt roads, waving as locals stared in shock at the motorbiking gringos, soaking in the smells, shyly stuttering foreign-tongued holas and de nadas, the unexpected happened. I fell in love. El moto had my heart and I had a vision for the future.
A year later, I find myself lying on the cool cement floor. Wiping grease from my hands, working side-by-side with the very men who showed me the joys of getting off the beaten path on dual sports. Working as a team, we get Rufio righted in record time. Fresh sprockets and chain gleam noticeably new against the rest of the worn, dirt-covered bike parts.
Reaching for a wrench, I wiggle into the space between the bike and the sidecar. Grin at the beautiful serendipity of life. I never could’ve guessed that traveling to Ecuador would lead to connections in Asheville. To friends that would happily scrap their plans for the day, drive several hours to pick us up, bring us into the fully loaded shop and help get everything in tip-top shape.
Crawling into bed for the night, I release any nerves I still have about heading to Overland Expo tomorrow. Remind myself that, one way or another, things always work out. Though stressful at times, it’s most certainly a good thing that life isn’t a train ride, for I surely never could’ve planned this route.
112 days down. Many to come.[/x_text][/x_column][/x_row][/x_section]