It was somewhere around 11,670 feet of elevation – amid a cramping leg and with storm clouds on the horizon – that I started to wonder if I had made a terrible mistake. Months prior, I enthusiastically signed up for a motorcycle ride of epic proportions through Colorado’s mountainous terrain despite my own experience being outnumbered by decades compared to those I would be with. Now about 150 miles into that ride with another 350 miles ahead of me, I struggled to shake off the nerves and re-focus my mind on the basics that had gotten me that far already.
Despite motorcycling being a hobby that occupies much of my free time, I don’t write about it much. That said, the 500-mile day-trip I embarked on this past weekend is one that those traveling the Centennial State via any sort of wheeled vehicle would be sure to enjoy, thus here’s a little tale about what it was like.
At about 5 a.m. this past Saturday, the many alarms I had set the night before started blasting off loud and clear. Despite the neighborhood bear waking up my dog, thus me as well, a few hours prior, I snapped awake with ease, eager to get going – the big day had arrived…