During the Operation Moto Dog adventure, I learned to ride a motorcycle and, a few short months later, set off to travel across North America with my Labrador, Baylor, riding shotgun in a sidecar (goggles and all). We called our rig Rufio, and together the three of us bumped down backroads, ferried across the Upper Missouri, camped on deserted islands, dug ourselves out of sandy hills, and swapped a piston with strangers who felt like old friends by sundown. It started as a wild, slightly naive dream—me, a newbie rider, pointing toward Alaska despite every voice that said I didn’t have what it takes—and it became the thing that taught me failure is just a resting place, that kindness comes back around, and that the creative, free, on-your-own-terms life is figure-outable if you’re willing to rev the engine and go. Home was in the saddlebag, and there was nowhere to go but onwards.