I have reached Springfield MO which marks the exact half point in this tour. As I previously eluded too, things have not gone exactly the way I had foreseen. As the support has been overwhelming and the people I've come in contact with have given me hope, confidence and motivation...unfortunately the donations have been seldom and too far between. I've been blaming myself for this and I do take it personally, but I know other things are playing a major role in this misfortune. The economy has sealed up many would be giving wallets, the weather has done everything but cooperate, and some of my destinations have been uncooperative and completely ignored my attempts to raise money and awareness for this great cause.

So all of this has left me at this point to either tuck my tail between my legs and head home which is not all bad because we have raised money and have made a slight foot print. Or I head onward into the unknown and into the most dangerous and unforgiving parts of the country. In my last entry I had 3 options to navigate this decision, but now after much thinking 2 remain. Either I stop and go home and give the money I've raised to a deserving family or I fund the rest of the Patriot Tour on my own.


Tomorrow, I will stand literately on the crossroads. To my right will be everything I've conquered. All states east of the Mississippi river, new friends, new stories, many memories, and golden triumphs among the hardships of the open road. To the north of me will be home. My family and my friends who I miss very much, but most of all the beautiful smile and welcoming arms of my girlfriend. Her love beckons so strong it’s hard to resist at this point. Miss You Baby!! To my left will be the unknown. Dangerous twisty roads, deserts, hungry and poisonous creatures, extreme heat, and the solitude of the open plains; Another month of battling the gripping loneness, risking my finances for the chance at success and the rest of the journey I set out to complete.

As it stands, after a month of this life on the road my physical appearance has changed quite drastically. My hair is long and sticks out the sides of my hat and over my ears. My beard is almost down to my adams apple and comes to a frizzy point. I have lost weight because the food is no good and if my options are fast food or nothing, well, I have chosen nothing on too many occasions. My arms are the color of a warn down penny from the sun I've been fighting for the last week and a half. My feet ache from the boots I've almost walked right through. My eyes are almost always bloodshot and squinted from the dust, wind, and chasing sun. The rocks and bugs have left my knuckles scarred and swollen. Sleep doesn’t come like it used to so I usually have slight bags under my eyes to complement the redness; and from the sun making me squint the crows feet are arching across my face. I'm beaten and battered and the thought of continuing almost hurts.

I have taken on an appearance and a mental state that many write about, some sing about, others fantasize about, but very few will ever realize...I have become Hell On Wheels. The problem is I like it! I am taking a beating, but it's justified by the reason I'm out here. I started something a long time ago and some key people fueled it. Some key events made it a burning reality and I knew in my soul that it was going to happen. Starring down the barrel of launching this, many told me that in light of certain changes I shouldn't go, but I did anyway and I don't regret it. To tuck tail and run home half way through this tour would be a sad mistake. Even though many have told me it wouldn't be a failure, I would live the rest of my life wondering the dreaded "what if." I cannot bare this. I need to know how this journey ends. I have seen it in my dreams, I have seen it through the stories and fascinations of others, I need to live it to feel complete.

For a very long time I have felt something swelling inside me, something that feels like an explosion. It's unsettling and has always kept me searching, but I could never define what I was looking for. I knew it was big and would be life changing when "It" came. I always thought when I figured out what was tugging at my mind and soul, things would become clear as day and the path to its execution revealed like a map. I know now this is not how things happen in life. I have found that to grasp a dream is a hard fought and ever challenging journey, but once started must be completed. This is my journey and it's only just begun; like a new chapter in a book I have opened the beginning of my life. This chapter is the personal side of my effort to rise above a life of just being content. In fact, “content” is the only thing that really scares me and the exploding feeling has and always will be my soul trying to fight free from its entrapment.

I must also complete this tour to save the organization I worked so hard to bring to life. In the legal world it's seen as a real life entity and for me to not go all out would kill it. If that happens we will never be able to accomplish anything for our vets, soldiers, or this country under the banner of a Nation of Patriots. I'm out here for men and women who've suffered through much much more than some scrapes, bruises, sun burns, and loneliness. So as a small tribute to their suffering, their sacrifice and their service to me as a citizen of the greatest county on this planet I move forward and I will not quit them.
 

I preach of a unified confidence at the very foundation of this country's strength. I set out to whiteness it first hand. But, I also needed to see that in the darkest of times there's still those out there that hold the light of Patriotism high above their heads; that the sight of an American flag brings them a confident smile; that the thought of our wounded troops brings out fierce compassion. I have found hundreds of them and I want to find more; I want them to get behind this tour and I want them to represent their towns and cities year after year as we all ride for our honored and our brave...and at the end of the day we will have become "A Nation of Patriots".

I don’t represent any political, fascist, or extremist group. I represent the auto workers, the farmers, the fisherman, the good ‘ol boys, the entrepreneurs, small and big business men/women, the soldiers, the veterans, the fallen, the families, Policemen, Firemen, and everyone else that calls themselves an American. I ask for their collective support as I ride for our wounded, their families, and the confidence of America.

So, bring on the heat and let it rain, I'm drivin to hell and back...it's gonna be a bumpy ride!

I have since left Tallahassee and moved on across Alabama, Mississippi, and into Louisiana. Before leaving Florida though, I couldn’t help swinging just a bit south of Hwy 10 to hit Panama City Beach. Aaahh, the old spring break party grounds.
 

For 3 years straight my good friends from college and I would make the long drive from Winona MN all the way down to this paradise. Once we got there it was an all out booze fest where anything could happen and usually did. Hours and hours of beach volleyball, beach parties, and not having a care in the world spent on the white sugar sands that line the blue gulf coast Night after night turned into early morning and on many occasions the sun rising to find us still going at it. Hotel rooms were trashed, fights always on the brink of exploding, and clubs ripped off! Then just when you thought your body couldn’t handle it one more day it was time to go. Like zombies from a cheap thriller we would peel ourselves off the beds and drag our weary, half drunk bodies and luggage back into the cars to head straight back up the freezing tundra of MN. Seems like an awfully big effort for such a small pay off, but back then it was more than worth it.
 

So I drove down the strip and it literally became a stroll down memory lane as at almost every intersection my brain recalled some crazy scene or event that had unfolded on that very spot so long ago. Our hotels, our bars, our over priced and barley tolerable clubs, beaches, and liquor stores were all still there. As I drove reliving my college spring break days I found it bitter sweet and quite humbling because as I would recall a funny story I realized I had no one to share it with. It was just me and my bike. All of my buddies were back in the Midwest at work and carrying on with everyday life. Panama City Beach seemed to take on a very lonely and desolate appearance even though it was bustling with tourists and mopeds and shoppers. I remembered that I wasn’t here to party, no, I was just passing through. I realized just then how far from home I really was and how long I have been away.

I have been on the road for exactly 4 weeks tomorrow…1 month. 1 month living out of a suitcase, sleeping in the woods, eating crappy food, and my only company has been strangers in passing. I’ve slept in countless motels that no matter where I am in any state are always the same. The only thing that changes is the room number; other than that its one bed, one bathroom, one table, one clock, one tv, one remote, one sink, one night. They are my home after riding all day.

Life on the road is hard and dangerous, but when I look back at what I’ve accomplished and been through thus far it makes me feel good. I’ve done something that not many can say they’ve done and that fact is motivating in itself. By completing all 48 in one fellow swoop I will be part of very small group of people in the entire world and in history that can claim the same.

But, a crossroads is coming and I believe has been coming my entire life. Springfield Missouri will mark almost the exact half way point in The Patriot Tour. It will also be the closest I’ve been to home in over 1 month. It also means that everything I’ve just been through…I have to do again. And although I’ve been out doing my best to raise money for a cause I’m fiercely passionate about and meeting some excellent contacts, I fear the tour is not generating the donations I had planned on. This renders all of my efforts useless in the grand scheme and with sponsorship dollars fading my options are becoming clear.

When I arrive at these crossroads in Missouri I will be faced with 3 options. First is stopping the tour and heading home as to avoid relying on donated money to get me the rest of the way around. Two, continue on, tighten the belt and hoping that something catches and things turn in the cause’s favor. And three, I burn through the rest of the sponsorship dollars and fund the rest of this trip on my own because I alone set out to accomplish this so I alone must carry its financial burden.

These three options run their course through my head every day now…all day. Each one plays out from beginning to end. Each one takes on its own pros and cons which seem to weigh differently depending on my mood at the time. Each one has serious risks attached for example - If I don’t complete this tour I will feel like I failed not only myself but also the people for whom I’m riding for. Plus, by ending it early we may not have enough momentum to go again next year and this whole non profit - a perfectly legal and fully function tax exempt entity (and all the work that it took to form) will be useless. If I push it with the organization’s funds I risk coming home with nothing and that is certainly not a good for the organization or the cause. And finally, if I fund it myself I risk coming home with very little money and will be forced to take on the first job that comes my way to pay the bills. These risks torture me all day, but in the back of my mind I pit them against the chance at success; and success will mute all risk.

I have not made up my mind yet. There are still a few things that lie in wait in the next couple of days that may shed light on the correct choice. Wednesday is my personal D day…Decision day. This is when I will be standing at the crossroads of the rest of my existence The decision I make here will forever change the course of my life. I seek advice, but I think I know the answers that I’ll receive…only I can make this decision. A little insight from outside might not hurt though!!

Until then I’m still in what they call the “Dirty South.” And it’s still blistering hot which is funny because everyone keeps telling me that it’s “Unseasonably” hot. The reason that’s funny to me is because after leaving Milwaukee in the beginning it was “Unseasonably” cold then it was “Unseasonably rainy then “Unseasonably” windy. It’s also unseasonably “Recessiony” out there too!!! The next thing I’ll hear is about the Unseasonable snow that’s accumulating in the Rocky Mountains as I navigate them on 2 wheels!!

At times it does seem like I’m up against the rage of mother nature or being challenged by some superior force, or even chased by the devil himself, but I can take it. A friend in Jacksonville told me “When it seems the universe is trying to stop you…your on the right course to success.” I only pray she’s right.

It is hot. Not just the hot that makes you think of a cold beer, but the hot that make you think of going solo bobsledding except without the sled and naked!! This is the kind of “hot” mixed with 500% humidity that seems to reach down into your chest and squeeze your lungs! You walk outside an instantly begin to sweat right through your clothes. Now picture all that and try to imagine yourself in this climate, but wearing boots, jeans, a long sleeve black shirt, black gloves and a helmet while sitting on a hot motorcycle that’s riding on sun drenched asphalt…now that’s baking!

If you can’t already guess, I’m in the sunny state of Florida and have just left Adamec Harley Davidson of Jacksonville…which I’ll get to in a minute, but first let me tell you about my stay in Jacksonville, FL.

I arrived on Tuesday around noon from Savannah, GA and as I wasn’t supposed to be to Jacksonville until Wednesday so I had a little time to kill. First I needed to set up camp or find somewhere to stay. Now I’ve stayed in a few dumps before on this tour, but I think I found the ultimate dirt hole. This warm little nook was 20 dollars a night ($25 with tax) which was cheaper than the campsites way outside of town so I decided to check in. I think these places need to show you your room BEFORE you pay for it because if this had been the case I would have run outta there screaming. This was not the case…she was mine for 2 whole nights!

On entering my 8 X 8 cell I found a bed a table and a TV. The bed sheets had visible brown stains and…what I believe was a pubic hair acting as one of those greeting mints they leave for you on your pillow at nice hotels. The table was missing a leg so there was no need for a chair. The TV was twice as old as I am and the luxury of a remote, well, no room for luxury in this paradise. All of this was set upon a cracked and sandy tile floor. But the worst part was the bathroom. My superior maid service had forgotten to flush the toilet from the previous and obviously sick tenant. The sink was incrusted with an unidentifiable yellow greenish scum, but the shower…”wow” is what I remember saying out loud. It had a similar looking scum than that of the sink and the curtain was faded a spotty black at the bottom from the mold growing on it. The tiles on the shower wall were covered with scum and cracked in sporadic places while a seemly large family of ants had taken up residence somewhere near the drain. Like I said…”Wow.” The very best part of this entire experience was the girl at the front desk had mentioned something about the newly remodeled rooms throughout the motel!! They must have forgotten about # 219 which was to be my home for the next 2 days. Home sweet home.

As you can imagine I spent as little amount of time there as possible as I checked out the historic city of Jacksonville which is also the biggest city area wise in the US. I made it to the beach, but was unable to really enjoy it because I was in full biker apparel; I certainly wasn’t going to ride my big HOG through and around the city in shorts and flip flops just so I could play in the sand. I walked out onto the piers and through the shops, but had to keep popping into bars to cool down from the blistering heat (drinking water). When I mad eit back to my palace that evening I was soaked with sweat and thought I’d take a dip in the pool, but was in no way surprised to find the pool a quarter full with a filthy brown soup looking liquid dotted with leaves and branches (and even a band aid). I survived the night and made it to Adamec Harley the next day.

At the dealership I met Missy who I honestly have to say is one of the nicest and most friendly person I’ve met thus far. She took me to the dealerships event that was staged at a bar call Buffalos café. At the event she damn near introduced me to every person in sight. I must have shaken 50 hands that night. One person she got me in front of was the owner of Buffalos who surprised me and said he was going to get up on stage and announce some upcoming events and verbally plug The Patriot Tour. He surprised me again when he called me on stage. Then another surprise when he asked if I’d like to speak…what was going to do, say NO? SO I did and I think I did alright because even more people became interested in what sgoing on. The rest of the night Missy continued to introduce me to people and tried to rally more riders for our launch to Tallahassee the next day. I ended up leaving around 8:30pm and had a very nice dusk cruise back to my ant infested cell. But the day was complete and it was a success. It was a real pleasure to meet all those riders and their support and respect was more than motivating.

This morning I had my bike at Missy’s dealership for my 5,000 mile tuning service. Missy had a guy grilling “Red Neck Sausages” (which are freakin outstanding) and hamburgers. As I waited for my bike to get finished I talked with a very nice guy at the service dept. named Bob who is actually a retired US Marine. He gave me a really awesome price for the service performed…Thanks Bob! I also spoke with Lilly, she’s a radio host for Rock 105 out of Jacksonville and works closely with this dealership. We had a good chat and I’m not sure if she realized it then, but she really gave me some uplifting and motivating encouragement that will last with me for the rest of this tour. The hospitality, the size, cleanliness, variety, staff, community involvement, and Missy make Adamec Harley Davidson one of the best dealerships on the East coast and when I finish the rest…they’ll probably rank way up there on a national level. Hats off and thank you guys for everything!!

Of course the day wouldn’t be complete without getting wet. So as I was getting ready to leave it began to rain! I took shelter at a nice lady and fellow rider’s house; she likes to go by the nick name of “Oil Fingers.” I would like to thank her for helping me out and getting me to Tallahassee.

I have recently made a sign out of thick white cardboard material and a Sharpy I bought from Walgreens. It reads “I’m riding 48 states raising money for wounded vets. Help me America. Do your part at www.nationofpatriots.org.” It’s bungee corded down with the rest of my gear but plainly visible to passer bys. The response is amazing. Some people honk, some pump their fists, nod, thumbs up and even show me that their writing down the web address. Of course there are those that could careless and just want to get where there going as quickly as possible, but this only makes the positive reactions that much more uplifting and extremely encouraging. The sign actually made something happen today that really left me speechless; the impact of this event will also ride with me, but not the end of this tour, no, this will stick with me for the rest of my life.

I pulled into a gas station somewhere in Florida of Hwy 10. Called my girlfriend and stood in the beer cooler for about 10 minutes. When I walked out of the store there sitting on the dirty pavement was an older rough looking man eating one of those gas station hot dogs and had another one waiting next to him. He was sitting against the wall of the store right in front of my bike so as I approached he fired up a conversation. He told me about how he used to ride, where he was from, about his father who had passed, and his current drifting situation. He was a bit dirty, skinny, and frail looking, but he was extremely nice…he even offered me his other hotdog. I explained to him what I was doing and he seemed a bit confused or just didn’t hear me right. As I was getting ready to leave the man stood up and came over to get a better look at my bike when he walked to the backside and saw the sign I had made. He looked up at me with glassy eyes and said to me “You’re a good man for what you do.” He then reached into his pocket and tuned it inside out to reveal a single 1 dollar bill. He offered this dollar up to me with a shaky hand. Of course I refused, but he said “No, you take this dollar bill, It’s my last one, but I’ll get another. You do right by those soldiers.” I didn’t want to take it, but didn’t want to insult him. As I rode away I looked up as he was turning away from me and there on his arm was something that damn near broke my heart…it was a tattoo that read US MARINE CORE. But his gesture even though it was a single dollar was something I’ll never forget.

We all wonder why this world is so crazy and sometimes even bad. We travel through life as fast as possible until its too late and the path behind us looks like a blur. It’s no wonder that we all miss the good in people as well. The more I seem to travel, the more good I seem to find and it is reassuring, but it’s also motivating. It’s further strengthening my confidence in this country and for what it stands, but also building my faith in the people that reside within her borders as well. The phrase “United We Stand” may not be as far off as some think for it may be true that there’s Patriotism in the hearts of all Americans.

On Friday I Made my way through the morning showers over to Lexington Kentucky from Charleston Virginia. It was only 2 hours but it felt like four as it was all highway driving and the sky was pale and gray. I only had to pull over 3 times on this drive which is few compared to past travels. Eventually I landed at the Man O War Harley dealership where Eric was waiting to greet me. He was an extremely nice guy who has what most people would consider a dream job and a sweet office! Unfortunately, because of his packed schedule he was busy putting together a large event on the following day, but we did manage to work out a way that his dealership could use their local clientele to help us raise money in the next month. He then got me an unbelievable rate at a decent hotel down the street. It was Friday night in Lexington and even though it was setting the sun was out so I couldn’t help but check out the night life.

There’s some interesting people in this part of the country. Everyone seems to want to know your business once they figure out you aren’t from their part of town. They ask a lot of questions and make serious eye contact with you which makes it feel like they actually give a damn about what you might be babbling at them. Their good folks and it’s comfortable in Kentucky.

Since I left I can’t help but notice the changing accents as I travel. But it’s strange, as I go I’m subjected to a different accent for about 2-3 days and then it starts to mutate into something else. The Midwest (for me) was normal, but there seemed to be a slight drawl as I entered Indiana. Ohio seemed came back to normal, but then Pennsylvania picked up a mix between the southern drawl and that rough east cost “dropping of the R.” The missing “R” became more and more “missing as I moved north and then all but disappeared as I went through New York. The “R” slowly came back once I entered the DC area where the accent was still rough, but seemed to return to normal. I hit West Virginia and the twangy southernish mix came on strong. I met a gentleman at a gas station that I could barley understand!! Into Kentucky the accent lost it twanginess and became more distinguished sounding like everyone came out of one of those whiskey commercials. Then Tennessee and it was all southern drawl. North and South Carolina seemed to be a giant mix of all these accents as there are many tourists floating around. In fact, I came across a bunch of Wisconsin travelers. I haven’t seen a Wisconsin plate since I left Wisconsin 3 weeks ago. The first one I came across I nearly crashed my motorcycle!!
 

So, I went from Lexington KY to Knoxville TN with about 15 riders. I think they were waiting for the right time to surprise me with what was on the road ahead of us as we made our way to US HWY 129, but I knew what lurked on the horizon…The Tail of The Dragon. Or so it has been named because of it windy switch backs and hair pin turns. I had been told/warned about this treacherous drive and at last I was headed right for it. As we began it seemed like all the tails I had been told were BS, but shortly in I realized the hard way why it was infamous in the biker world.

I was on a left hand bank when I looked up and saw a road sing unlike anything I’ve seen or thought even possible. It was a yellow caution sign that you’d see anywhere in the country warning of curved roads ahead. Most that you see have an “S” shaped road in the center. Well, this one had what looked like a paperclip in the center!! I wasn’t sure what to make of it until I actually saw “it.” IT was a switchback type thing from hell and it was banked to the right. I hit it too fast and my back tire found a little sandy gravel…fishtailing through this curve I almost flew right off the road and my bike almost became part of the Tree of Shame - The Tree of Shame is a large tree on this hwy that’s adorned with parts of bikes that have crashed trying to navigate The Tail of The Dragon. - Somehow I pulled out of the fishtail and got the bike heading straight again!! That was close and it made me realize this was no joke and I had to really watch it.

Minus the near death experience and the rest of the 1.9 million hairpin turns this was a breath taking drive. If I get the chance I will do it again.

We popped out of the “Tail” and right there on the next horizon was, believe it or not, a nasty storm cloud heading right for us. It didn’t take long for my posse to disappear so they could all get home before they got wet. I don’t have this luxury and seeing as I’m no stranger to the weather and our little drive just pushed me a day ahead of schedule…I didn’t have anywhere to be just then. So I continued through, well at least until I couldn’t see 5 feet in front of me, then off the highway again! It cleared up and I was on my way.

That was Friday and Saturday, on Sunday I decided to travel down to Charleston South Caroline. I had a little free time because I wasn’t scheduled to be in Savanna Georgia until Tuesday. I rode all day in the steamy sunshine as I watched the Inland landscape turn to coastal plains.

Because of the heat all around me it smelt like hot sticky pine sap, but slowly I could smell the sea again. It is probably one of the most soothing smells I know. Every time a get a salty whiff of the sea it reminds me of the beach, a cooler of beer, good friends, and nothing to do…excellent. Even though I have none of the above with me, I still very much enjoy the smell.

As luck would have it, I hit another nasty storm that afternoon only about 3 miles from the Harley store in Charleston so I got the chance to see how they construct the undersides of their bridges in this town. By the end of this trip I might be an expert bridge engineer after all the time I spend under them!! Give me a brake!!

Charleston is a beautiful coastal city which reminded me a lot of Key West. I didn’t have much time to spend there because another storm was coming and because it attract tourists the hotel prices are ridiculous. So, a quick trip down Market St. and I was outta there and headed for Savanna around 7pm. It didn’t take long for the weather to catch up with me so I was off the hwy and into the 18 star resort that is the Peach Tree Inn.

I arrived yesterday at Hannums Harley Davidson just a little outside Baltimore MD to meet my contact Tina. I had actually stopped in the day before to purchase a little upgrade for my bike…new, louder exhaust pipes!! I couldn’t help it, they were well priced and sounded tough. So, yesterday I swung in and had them installed. It’s almost as if I have a whole new bike. I have to thank Corey for helping me chose the right pipes and for putting up with me all day. Tina was a very good host and their service department had me in and out in under 2 hours. Hannums is a beautiful dealership and I look forward to visiting again. Thanks guys!

I was lucky enough to enjoy the hospitality of Gail and Robert my step aunt and uncle. They live in a beautiful home outside of Baltimore. I was able to enjoy a home cooked meal and sleep in a nice comfortable bed. They definitely took the rough out of roughing it! But, before I could get there I had to endure mother nature’s wrath yet again.

I had been at the dealership that day and noticed another storm cloud rolling in on the horizon so I decided to saddle up and make a run for Gail and Robert’s home. As I started to ride I watched this cloud engulf the entire western hemisphere to my left and then watched it turn green. Anyone from the Midwest can tell you that if the sky turns any color except blue, grey or black…your in for a treat. Well, this sky went from gray to black, to yellow and then to green within minutes. So, I pulled off the road and called Robert who told me that hail was falling by their house and sure enough not more than 15 minutes later, hail was falling over me. I waited it out, but still had to drive the rest of the distance in the aftermath; which was rain and heavy winds. It was worth it to enjoy their hospitality though…Thanks guys!

I left this morning from the Baltimore area for Washington DC. I have been looking forward to this since I first planned this trip last year and it was everything I’d hoped it would be. I rolled in on the belt line towards my stop in Fort Washington at the Washington DC Harley Davidson and out of nowhere the famous George Washington Memorial came into view. I couldn’t wait to see the sites, but was afraid my short stay would hinder this opportunity.

I came to the dealership…bike still sounding great…And was immediately greeted by Jennifer the GM. She was extremely nice and very supportive. Plus she had a good amount of people waiting for me when I showed up and then to top it off she had lunch on the grill. AND then, on top all this she gave me a full tour of her dealership and introduced me to the rest of her staff. AND THEN, she (and Jim) helped me get my long lost H.O.G Member ID number so I can participate in the 25,000 rider event in Oklahoma City in a couple of weeks. Freakin awesome Jennifer!

I sat outside eating cheeseburgers and hotdogs with DC H.O.G. and some Rolling Thunder members telling and listening to stories from the road. Some of these guys just showed up to meet me before turning back to work. It was a good start to the afternoon and I couldn’t help but feel like they were a pretty tight nit group. If I ever join a specific H.O.G chapter I will look for a similar type group to call my family on the road. To everyone that showed at the dealership thank you, ride safe and I’ll be seeing you again.

It didn’t end there though. Those that remained decided to give this out of towner a scenic tour around DC. Even though rain was coming (AGAIN!!!!) and rush hour traffic was inevitable and they’ve probably seeing it all before we saddled up. I was taken to some of the major sights and even though I’ve seeing these places on TV, it sure doesn’t do them justice. There was one point when we were on…I forget the name of the street sorry guys…stuck in grid lock traffic we decided to pull off and when I got off my bike I was in the middle of two of the most famous structures known to the world. To my right jetted skyward the Washington Memorial; surrounded by American flags and a subtle but defining landscape. Its presence is one of strength as it seems to pierce the sky. The flags surrounding it are crisp and sharp. Even from a little distance I could almost count all 50 stars on each one. This is how our flag was supposed to be flown and it reminded me of all the tattered and torn flags you see outside of businesses, homes, apartments, in the rain, and in the dark. I only wish more people would take the time to respect the flag that binds all Americans to the men and women in our past that sacrificed and died to secure the freedoms we all enjoy today.

As I stared at this monument I realized my visit would not be complete without seeing the greatest house in the Nation. So I turned away from the Washington Monument and asked our leader where it was, he smirked and nodded his head away from me. There, right behind him shining like ivory was the Whitehouse. It took the breath right out of me as I realized I was not watching the History channel but was actually in the presence of some of the most powerful and influential men and women in the world…past and present. I was a little ways away, but the effect was non the less dramatic. Like a good little tourist I got a picture of me in front of it. I wanted to go and ring the doorbell, but my hosts advised against this action. I guess I’ll have lunch with the President some other time!!!

On a sad note, during my visit an older gentleman with a twisted agenda stormed the Holocaust Museum with a firearm and opened up on a couple of security officers. One of these officers didn’t make in; may he rest in peace. The gunman was shot dead.

Tonight I am again at the charity of another friend Gillian and her fiance. They’re putting me up for the night in there very nice new apartment in Bethesda MD which is right outside downtown DC. Plus, as it is raining again….YES IT’S RAINING AGAIN….my bikes in a comfy underground parking space.

Hopefully the rain will disappear as I have a long haul in the morning for Charleston WV. I’m looking at 6-7 hours hard riding. If it’s raining this could double and ruin any chance at an event tomorrow. But, there’s no sense in complaining I have to make it and I will. It would be nice too have some company tomorrow, the loneliness is gripping. It’s hard to explain, but it feels as if I’m on a never ending business trip. The places, faces, stories, roads, states, and days are beginning to bleed into each other. I’m starting to lose my sense of time because as the states change, the towns and roads seem to be the same and at the end of the day I judge the week upon the tour’s schedule. Even the schedule is beginning to slip from my mind. Trying to keep over 54 destinations and their contacts in place is no easy task. I noticed that I was talking aloud to my Tom Tom this morning. This might not be good, but it will be worse if Tom begins to talk back to me!! I might just become a walking advertisement for the Tom Tom people.

As I look back to where I’ve been it’s kind of shocking to me that within 2 weeks I have traveled almost 4,000 miles. It seems like a lot when you measure it by distance, but when measured by time it’s a little more than 2 weeks and that’s nothing. 6 weeks left to go…Lets do it.

In my 28 years of existence I can recall maybe one other event that can compare to the experience I had on Sunday in NYC. It was like skydiving, a first kiss, and sitting in the back of a cop car all rolled into one and placed on a motorcycle!! No words, pictures, or half in the bag stories will ever be able to reproduce it as well as I lived it.

Sunday morning I left my extremely over priced (and over rated) hotel room for the dealership in queens. I was running a little late and my head was a little fuzzy from the night before. I came down a one way street where I could see bikes lining up, but it wasn’t until I came to the intersection until I got a view that made the hairs on the back of my neck stand straight up. From my view point I could see about 300 bikes lining the southern side of the block and across the street was about 25-30 bike cops. I sat at the stop sign completely clueless as to what I should do. I couldn’t see any place to park and though I do have some skills I didn’t have the balls to squeeze my bike in between a couple of Hells Angels or Outlaws.
 

So, I went left and coming up to the western side of the dealership I saw the street was closed and there were bikes parked almost 4 deep as far as the eye could see. I thought I was screwed and would have to park far away from the action, but out of nowhere George called out and waved me up onto the sidewalk. I thought this was strange, but then again I was in NYC and because I was on a bike and now associated with what looked like 1,000 other bikers…I was damn near untouchable. George called over to a couple of guys directing bike traffic and pointed at me and gave them a thumbs up. He then made me circle around all the bikes on the closed street and ride the opposite sidewalk all the way to the front of the line! There I was front and center with all my gear piled up and bungeed to the back of my bike. But, who cares I had a front row seat for the loudest site seeing tour in the city! Now I just had to wait for 3 hours.

And what a three hours it was. The sun was blistering hot and the breeze was nowhere to be found. As I was a little fuzzy that morning I wasn’t thinking about what to wear so my attire went a little something like this: Black socks, black boots, heavy carpenter jeans (and boxers), tank top, kidney belt, black long sleeve shirt, black short sleeve shirt, riding coat, black gloves, and a bike black helmet!! I shed the gloves, coat and helmet, but I was still over heating. I drank almost 6 bottles of water and didn’t have to go to the bathroom!!

I made it the 3 hours and it was time to take off. The signal to leave was the police bikes starting up and lighting the cherries. After that I thought I was on pit row at a NASCAR race “GENTLEMEN START YOUR ENGINES!” All around me bikes were firing and revving; it was so loud I could feel it in my chest. It got the blood pumping so I fired mine up and revved along with em. After a couple minutes the lead vehicle appeared in front of me and some guy lifted the barricade… the bikes went nuts and tore out of the gate; somehow I managed to keep up because I wasn’t ready for that kind of rush. And we were off!

The drive was unreal as we drove in and out of Manhattan not having to stop at red lights or worry about traffic because the cops were blocking all ramps and intersections. I took a little guilty pleasure out of seeing the angry New Yorkers stuck behind the cops as they cursed our existence….unfortunately this would come back to haunt me. We rolled through tunnels and the roar of almost 2,500 bikes was almost deafening. What a rush! We finally ended up in a park where the dealership had grills smoking away and a band doing its best to copy AC DC and Guns N Roses. I met some good people and promoted The Patriot Tour and its cause. I want to thank George and the rest of his staff for their hospitality and also thank SSG John Antonetti for his company during the event and the badge he gave me from Bagdad. I will wear this badge with honor.

It was an awesome day, but I decided to leave at about 4pm so I didn’t have to worry about rush hour traffic on Monday morning…this was a grave mistake. As cool as it was to drive through the big city with the cops taking care of that messy traffic, I didn’t realize at the time that we were making things horribly worse. Our little tour backed up everything and created a bad case of gridlock. I found this out the hard way when I decided to take my time getting to New Jersey and told my Tom Tom I wanted to avoid tolls. Like bad karma Tom Tom proceeded to take me back through what we had just come from and it was torture.
 

When I hopped back onto my bike I had all my gear on and drove comfortably for about 1 mile then came to a dead stop. It was stop and go for almost 3 HOURS!!! I actually started to feel the effect from heat exhaustion as I putted less than a mile an hour through the gridlocked city. The sweat was pouring down my face, back, and even my legs (didn’t even know legs could sweat). But finally I got out, barely. My head was light and even more fuzzy. My mouth was so dry I might as well have been chewing on sand. And my limbs felt like iron pipes. Tunnel vision started to set in right as I emerged from the city. All of this on top of an over heating bike which made things even hotter. In fact, the bike became so hot I started to worry about my pants catching fire! Let it be know that I will NEVER EVER drive a motor vehicle through that city again.

I made it all the way through to the New Jersey/Pennsylvania border and stopped at The #$@! Motel. I asked the strange looking desk guy sitting behind bullet proof glass for a room and he said in an almost incomprehensible accent “ROOM $125.” Now if this had been the Hilton and if I had the money then sure…great. But this was anything but the Hilton. It was beat up and nasty looking. I could almost smell the disease coming off the pillow cases. SO I got out of there in a hurry. I went from motel to motel all the rooms were over $120 so I went back the way I cam and found another little gem off the highway. This little beauty had an exotic gentleman’s club attached to it and as an added bonus there were literally crack heads hanging out of the rooms. I know they were crack heads because the nice attendant told me so…right before she told me not to check into her hotel! Another hour of searching and I found a Motel 6 for very cheap and called it home for the night! It was a long day.

I have successfully made it into the gigantic city that is NYC. The trip here will be unforgettable as probably the worst drive I have faced yet. Making my way to the Gengras dealership I was informed by another experienced biker what the road ahead had planned for me.

He informed me of the bad reputation Hartford held when it came to giving bikers attention on the road. I thought to myself “I’ve been living in Chicago for the last 4 years…There’s nothing I haven’t seen or come up against!” Turns out I was wrong.

After leaving Gengras I found myself in a thicket of traffic going South towards NYC, but this traffic was moving. The speed limit In the city was 55 and I was doing a moderate 85 while being passed, honked at (in the right lane) and catching some interesting hand signals. This speed would hold for maybe 15 minutes until the traffic would unexpectedly slow to about 45 mph. When I say unexpectedly, I mean within seconds and there was no warning except a red sea of tail lights all of a sudden. During this slow period it was like “musical lanes” because everyone was trading lanes with everyone else; like a massive coordinated automobile weave pattern that silently and automatically takes place all day every day.
 

I had a few close calls as I was cut off, slamming on my 2 brakes, and constantly swiveling my head to avoid getting run over. But….ohhhh but, this was my warm up for what lurked on my southern horizon for the “Big Apple” lay in wait. Even on a Saturday my skills were tested beyond their level.

On entering the city I came around a bend to see in front of me the cityscape of New York City. It was breath taking, but the beauty soon faded into horns and squealing brakes. I might as well have been riding a Huffy cause my small presence on the bustling expressway was seemingly an inconvenience to those around me. It was a white knuckle ride to my exit, but did not end there. In fact it seemed worse once I got off the expressway. My “Tom Tom” was screaming at me to shift all the way to the right…then all the way to the left…then back again…then quick turn…then sharp, and again evasive maneuver to the right…exit left, and on and on. It seemed “Tom Tom” was as confused as I was. The streets seem to just bleed into each other as they wrap around the islands that make up the landscape around here. My head is still spinning as I type my thoughts.

I arrived at my destination and met my contact George Dennis. A fast talking and knowledgeable individual that introduced me around and even fed me some of that famous New York style pizza that everyone else in the world tries to copycat. I look forward to the Police escorted ride around Manhattan tomorrow, in fact it will be one of the highlights of this tour.
 

I have to cut this one short because the city beckons…

I write this blog today with heavy eyelids because since yesterday at about 7 am until now I feel as if I’ve just gotten off a rollercoaster. In just over 24 hours I have traveled through 4 states! Not only that, but the events that unfolded were interesting to say the least.
 

I left Manchester, NH and rode about 50 minutes south into Boston and just as I had imagined the sites of the city on a motorcycle were absolutely awesome. I cruised past some of my old watering holes reliving all the fuzzy moments. After a “stumble” down memory lane I arrived at the designated dealership. It wasn’t hard to find because standing over the big Harley Davidson sign was the biggest American flag I think I’ve ever seen. The wind was blowing at probably 15 knots and it still was barely enough to move it off the massive pole on which it flew.
 

Shortly after picking up a few riders we hopped on our bikes and fled the city for the Ocean State - Rhode Island. Compared to where I have been this drive was a little dry as it was just highway miles. That was until I pulled off to get to my beautiful 5 star resort in the sleepy town of Hope Valley. Here was waiting hiking, 4 course meals, 18 rounds of golf, saunas, gourmet desserts, a massage, wild life, room service, and a late check out!! No, no, just kidding. Actually, I stayed at a beautiful campsite called Whispering Pines in RI. The hiking was actually an off road drive on my Harley (which is not made for off-roading) to my camping site (127 E). I did in fact enjoy a 4 course meal except it came from a military issue MRE (Meal Ready to Eat). I had wheat bread with Jalapeno Cheese spread, Spanish Rice, Chili N Macaroni (main course), and topped it off with some short bread. It was surprisingly pretty tasty considering all of these items came in their own individual package and have an infinite shelf life! The sauna was the fire that I started with soaking wet pine; I had help from my neighbors Bill and Bonnie getting it lit. I didn’t play golf, but I did construct an awkward looking bow and some arrows with my knife…sporty I guess! Bill and Bonnie invited me over to enjoy good conversation and smores and seeing as I haven’t had smores since forever they were pretty gourmet to me. My massage actually came from the gravel that my tent was resting on as I tried to sleep. I forgot to burn all of my eaten MRE so just after I had fallen asleep I was sharply awaken by the sound of foot steps outside my tent. Sure enough I watched a small family of raccoons squabble orver the scraps and then a couple of skunks circle my tent…ahhh, nature.

I awoke in the morning to realize my “water resistant” tent was falsely advertised. I also realized that I had slept funny on my phone so as payback it refused to turn on until plugged in. So, without any way to check the time and overcast skies I determined it was around 8-9 am. I struggled to my feet and dug up my morning bathroom materials. A short hike and I was in the bathroom, but during my walk I couldn’t help but notice how silent and still everything was.
 

In the bathroom I was able to plug in the phone while taking care of the 3 S’s and was less than amused to find out my judgment of the morning hour was horribly wrong…it was 6:05 am and I didn’t have to be to the dealership until noon!!! I decided not to go back to sleep and packed my gear (room service) and hit the road by 7:45am; how’s that for a late check out.

Don’t get me wrong, I did actually enjoy my night at Whispering Pines. It is a very nice campsite and it was very nice talking to Bill and his wife Bonnie. Unfortunately I started the day off on the wrong foot and it went downhill from there.

My 2 locations today were Precision Harley Davidson in RI and Gengras Harley Davidson in CT. At Precision my contact was Chelsea and she worked very hard to set up this event. She had signs all over the dealership, info on their website, tents set up and a knowledgeable staff. The same went for Pam at the Gengras dealership. Well, mother nature had a different agenda. People were supposed to show up at Precision around 11am and ride me to Gengras at 1pm. It started to drizzle right at 11am so no one showed. When I got on the road at 1pm it began to down pour and stayed constant the rest of the day. I drove 2 and a half hours in this crap to Gengras where it was the same scene. None the less, I want to thank Chelsea for her hospitality and both girls for their efforts to support The Patriot Tour.

As I type I’m in probably the worse motel I could have hoped not to find. In fact, I would give anything to sleep with the raccoons and skunks tonight. All I have to say is the neighborhood décor has a common denominator…steel bars and you can rent this gem by the hour. I will be sleeping in many layers, a skull cap, and bandana around my face tonight dreaming of my leaky tent. The Patriot Tour gives this “roachtel” 0 frickin stars and recommends the destruction and paving over of it at the soonest possible date! Though, if I can manage to raise a good amount of money for wounded veterans that need and deserve it I would gladly stay in resorts like this for the remainder of the Tour.

Hopefully, my ride to New York City will dry out my soaking ego and bring some passionate riders to the plate.

The Patriot Tour has finally made its first major turn around the upper East coast and is now heading South toward New York City. I’ve passed through the beautiful city of Portland and traveled back to Southern New Hampshire where I’m stopped in Manchester. I stopped at Big Moose Harley Davidson in Portland where I met some real nice guys that gave me some excellent tips for my upcoming travels.

I was informed of a road called the Dragons Tail somewhere in West Virginia, I think. I won’t have any trouble locating this road as it’s marked by a large tree that’s adorned with pieces of all the motorcycles that have crashed on it’s whipping hair pin turns.

I was also told about the nasty santa anna winds that would undoubtedly be menacing my travels through Texas, New Mexico, Arizona, and Nevada. Supposedly, they come at you in bursts of 35045 miles an hour. They also change direction and swirl under over passes.

These are just a few things I get to look forward to. The guys also described great places to eat, drink and drive through. In fact, one of those places is coming up and it’s called The Big Tex. Supposedly it has the best food this side of the Mississippi not to mention the environment is one of a kind.

I want to thank these gentleman for their advice and conversation while I was in Portland. I also want to thank Peter and his staff for being so courteous to me during my visit. Peter’s dealership is big and packed full of gear and accessories I haven’t seeing at other dealerships. I’d also like to thank those that road with me yesterday…especially Patty and Jim!

Today I was at the Manchester Harley Davidson with Steve Irons. He was extremely nice and we talked about how we could make next years tour a real success at his location. This dealership was also very impressive as it had probably the largest selection of bikes I have seen yet! I almost wanted to take a few out on a test drive! Thanks Steve, I look forward to seeing you again next year.

Tomorrow I’ll be taking a 45 minute drive (in great weather) towards good old Bean Town…Boston, to hopefully pick up some riders to travel into Rode Island. I’ve been looking forward to this part of the tour because I’m familiar with the Boston area as I spent a summer there for an internship. I really like this city and I can’t wait to enjoy its sites on the seat of my bike. There’s definitely something about riding a bike through a big city on a motorcycle that makes the experience more impressive. The skyscrapers seem bigger and the smells of the city only add to the experience. Tomorrow will be a good day.

There’s not much I can remember from my younger years. From the age of 5 through age 12 most of my memories are mostly just cloudy scenes that lack detail. Most of them will be wrenched from the deep files of my brain by a familiar smell, place, or name of which can only be related to an instant flashback to the lacking experience. They are still lifeless images that don’t really represent anything except a moment in my life, but put them together and they stream the memory of my childhood. However, there is one memory that is as vivid in my mind as if it had occurred an hour ago.

The only thing I cannot place from this memory is my age, but I believe I was 7 years old. I was with my uncle Chuck at a fair in Milwaukee Wisconsin which took place by a lake. I was wearing my favorite shirt and my favorite shoes. The mid summer day was hot and sweaty and the environment was heavy with that all too familiar carnival smell. The air reeked of cotton candy, popcorn, sweat, hot black top, BO and feet all rolled into one and it filled the nostrils with every breath. All around me were screaming kids, sticky hands, bells and whistles, and over annoyed grown ups chasing after their sugar induced children.

My uncle and I had walked around for a couple of hours playing those games you can’t win, riding those death trap rides, and throwing oversized baseballs at some jerk hovering over cold blue water in a tank. After we had our fill of this chaos it was time to leave so we headed for the parking lot. As we turned into the lot I was struck by an image that was unfamiliar to me and an image that might just have changed the course of my life.

There in the lot was a line of motorcycles all parked next to each other in perfect symmetry, but the one that caught my eye was being mounted by a mountain of a man dressed all in black. The bike was huge and its black and chrome finish just gleamed in the hot summer sun. The tail pipes looked like shiny snakes that wrapped and coiled in and out of the bike. The handle bars were almost a foot above the bikers head and were decorated with chrome skulls. The leather was studded with metal spikes. Too me it looked like a dragon that adorned with battle armor.
 

As we passed this sight I watched as the giant man lifted his leg and with a swift motion brought it crashing to the ground. The bike roared to life with a horrifying growl that seemed to suck the very air from my lungs. Then it sat there rumbling in revolutions shaking the ground.

I’m sure my eyes were almost popping out of my head with sheer amazement and terror. My uncle was pulling me to the car so I strained my head to watch the bike take off. As the bike started to move I managed to catch one last glimpse of the bike before it left and what I saw was the dragon’s name…Harley Davidson.

I believe it was at that moment I knew someday I would ride a beast like that. I have carried that memory with me for a very long time watching countless Harleys drive past me. But now, I am one of those riders and I see little children with the same look of fear as I bring my dragon to life. I watch them strain their heads as I ride off and I can’t help but wonder if I have created a similar memory in them. There’s something about a Harley Davidson that can make people turn their heads, but there’s something even more compelling about those that have the balls to ride an 800 lb machine of sheer twisted ragging muscle.

The other day as I was tearing through the White Mountains of New Hampshire when I realized something about the Harley culture that seems to piece everything together. You see, when you muster up the guts to purchase your first Harley Davidson you aren’t just buying a motorcycle; you’re being initiated into the foundation that is Harley Davidson. There exists a huge network of men and women whom all share an intense passion for riding and representing this name. But it isn’t the clothes or gear or accessories that passes rank or seniority. You have the option of full time membership or independent ownership; either way you are part of a family that will give you their respect no matter what road you travel down. With Harley you are never alone. There is an automatic bond between riders on the open road and you can witness it around the word. Riders will gesture to each other with a signal or a sign. To drivers they are mere hand gestures, but to riders they are signs of respect. A bike is a bike, Harleys are just bigger cooler bikes, but the lure of the Harley empire is loyalty to the bond that cements all of its riders together. No matter what road or state or continent there is a universal sign shared by 2 total strangers that have one thing in common. In passing, nothing is said, no glances shared or stories told just one sign, the loyal symbol of pride and honor. That is Harley Davidson, that is family, and that is America.

Ride on.

Saturday May 30th I worked my way through mid state New York to the border of Vermont. As I have never been to Vermont I had no idea what to expect so one could imagine my surprise as I found myself twisting through winding roads that banked me left and right. Around every other curve was a small town nestled in the hills and woven into the tree line that crested the road. One particular part of this drive will always stand out to me as possibly the greatest path to ride a motorcycle. This road is Hwy 100 in southern Vermont. I enjoyed every second of the drive up 100.
Helping me out was the weather. Finally a full day of sunshine. I cruised all day toward my destination at Wilkins Harley Davidson with the sun on my right shoulder as I was headed North. About 3/4 of the way to the dealership as I was riding the crest of a long high hill pass, I noticed a monstrous thunder cloud to the North. At first it looked far away, but as I traveled it came closer and closer. I never actually got underneath it, but I did get close enough to ride through its aftermath.

This storm must have been massive because there were branches down all over the roads, patio furniture thrown about yards, and the roads were drenched. Even though I didn't get wet the storm still seemed to reach out and get me in a different way...I must add that revealing what happened is extremely embarrassing, but I guess I don't care.

I was coming down that high pass looking down into a valley. I could see a stop light at a T intersections about 1,000 yards from me. As I approached this intersection the car in front of me was braking trying to anticipate a stale green light turning yellow. I thought he was going to stop, but as the light went from green to yellow he sped up and began turning left. At this moment my brain hesitated...stop or go, stop or go? I began too slow as well, but then decided to go for it, but I noticed I was coming in too hot and decided too late to stop my bike. So I applied heavy pressure to the rear brake and the tire began to skid (or at least it felt like it was) so I let go and applied both the rear and front brakes, but the bike began to wobble on the soaked road. At this moment I was basically in the turn to my left trying to stop when the front tire found dry pavement and came to an abrupt stop. Now, the thing about an 800 lb machine on two wheels is that when the front wheel is cranked and leaning to the left and comes to a stop it wants to lay down on its left side and if the rider isn't ready...the bike is going down. I was this rider and I wasn't ready, so there in front of about 15 to 20 cars...I dropped my motorcycle to the pavement. I wasn't hurt, in fact I just jumped right off, but I did scrape up my ego pretty badly.

Oh well, they say there are 2 types of riders out there - Those that have dropped their bikes like I did and those that haven't dropped their bikes YET. Clearly, if I had to lay down the bike this was a good time to do it, just so long as I don't do it again!!

Shortly after this pride bashing moment I reached my destination at Wilkins Harley Davidson in up state Vermont. I met with the GM John and some of his staff; they were extremely nice as they fed me lunch and hooked me up with an awesome Harley jacket and even washed my dirty bike!! Thanks guys she was dirty!!

Right around 3pm the Patriot Tour unexpectedly left the dealership for a ride to the east. We rode until I needed gas so we stopped in at a station where we met some more interested riders. They pointed me to Littleton New Hampshire so that swere we ended up. I want to thank those that donated and rode with me out of Vermont.

6 days and nine states down. My back is a little achy, My keester is wearing as I notice it getting uncomfortable more quickly now. But, these are minor problems because I have accomplished much in this first week. More on the personal side I think, but still accomplished none the less. Plus, the last couple of rides have been long and grueling as I spent the better part of the day on the bike. When I left for Vermont on Saturday, I left at 7am and arrived at my destination around 1:30pm and then hopped back on to ride another hour and a half to New Hampshire. The next couple of days will be shorter and easier now that this is behind me.

New Hampshire is beautiful, similar to Vermont in landscape, but what sets in apart and makes it my second favorite state next to Wisconsin is their state motto - "Live Free Or Die!" That's excellent and their proud of it as it's posted all over the place, way to go New Hampshire.

Littleton NH is a quaint little jem. I'm hold up in the Littleton Motel which is great little place; very clean, big and friendly. I went out on the town last night (Saturday May 30th) and met some of the locals. They're very friendly and curious about the outta towner from Wisconsin. I hung out and walked around, had a few beers, and shot some pool. The town was alive last night, but this morning it was quite as can be. I like that because it reminds me of my old college town. Everyone would get so stinkin drunk on Saturday that their hangovers would keep them parked in front of the TV all day making the town appear ghostly and quite.

I've notice that the weather changes as fast as a women changes her mind. It is unpredictable and when it gets nasty, it gets nasty quick. The storm clouds seem to gather behind the hills to the West and then charge for the town, but as quick as they come their gone and the sun's shining down on your face again. Surrounded by trees, rolling hills, quaint towns, twisty roads, and good people I might call this home some day far in the future. Then again, there is much of this country I haven't yet seen. We shall see.