WEBVTT

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It was the last college summer. 

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Well,

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for most,

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but not me.

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I was taking a gap year to focus on my small business at the time. 

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Things didn’t go as planned, 

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I got a severe burn-out and eventually gave up on the whole thing.

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So I spent the rest of my gap year mostly inside my room, 

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distracting myself with video games and feeling like a failure. 

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That was when a few friends took me out to grab a bite.  

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They said I should go somewhere.

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I said Alaska.

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I asked them to ride with me. 

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They were hesitant, but they agreed. 

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The plan was then made, routes decided, bikes readied, and everything was taken care of. 

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The plan was to ride 04 motorcycles from Richmond,

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then take route 76 and head to Alaska Highway. 

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But life happened.

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As the day of the journey approached, 

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people started dropping out one by one.

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On the day of the journey, the last and the final person backed out. 

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So, had to make a choice, 

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whether to give up on the plan or attempt riding across the country on a 20-year-old motorcycle.

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I decided, what the heck, let me have a go at it. 

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If I don’t go now, I would never get things out of my system. 

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So I made up a mental agreement,

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the moment when the bike gives up is when I give up and head back home.

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And I was on the road. 

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The road took me across the country:

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Pittsburg, Sandusky, Michigan Lake, Seattle, and all the way to Vancouver. 

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I drove from dusk till dawn, and take a quick nap whenever I could 

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at the bus stops, by the rivers, and under the oak trees. 

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Recipe for a horror movie,  I know, but I was too tired to worry.

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Living in the city for all of my life,

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I almost forgot how peaceful it was to just fall asleep under a sky full of stars. 

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Spending most of the time driving makes you appreciate small things. 

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A hot cup of coffee in the morning feels like a privilege.

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A double cheeseburger at a local diner feels like a warm hug. 

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And sometimes I’d get lucky after a long drive and chance into a dingy motel by the road.

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I’d check right in because, after a few thousand miles of driving like crazy,

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their rock-hard mattress would feel like a bed of sweet marshmallows. 

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By the time I reached Seattle, 04 weeks had passed. 

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It took a lot more than planned because I took a lot of detours at every interesting turn I found. 

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I followed my gut and kept my fingers crossed that I’d not run into any Freddy Kruger. 

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And there was no Freddy Kruger indeed.

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Instead, I found a secluded lake tucked away in the forest, 

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an abandoned mall where I played one hell of a basketball match with myself, 

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and a piano left in the middle of the desert. 

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There’s something so sacred about finding hidden gems on the road. 

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Sacred and Surreal.

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Like they were made for me, my own little corner of the world.

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I promised myself that one day I would return.

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I promised, then I marched on. 

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But the rest of the trip didn’t go as planned.

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My bike broke down when I reached Beaver Creek. 

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What now - I think to myself.

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I thought back to my initial pledge: “When the motorcycle gives up is when I will give up”

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and was going to book a flight home. 

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But that felt like the easy way out, 

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so I told myself to hell with it. 

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So I sold the bike and walked. 

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I walked until each step was heavier than the last. 

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Until my breaths thickened. 

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I walked until I couldn’t, then I hitchhiked. 

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The miles ticked away and I found myself among the salt of the earth,

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from the elderly couple who offered me cans of canned beef for the road,

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to the veteran who offered me free lodging for a couple of days just because we all loved Chuck Berry.

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 When I told them about my plan, they all told me to go for it. 

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On June 28, I reached Alaska.  

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I burst with joy when I saw Alaska Range. 

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The beautiful, majestic Alaska Range with its’ snow-capped peaks and shimmering glaciers.

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I stood there, in awe.

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At that point, I had no strength left in me,

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but I was filled with this warmth of never-ending freedom.

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I spent the next few days at a hospital after losing over 20 pounds and dehydration.

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Then spent a week staying at home just to recover.

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Some asked me if the trip solved my problems.

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It didn’t. Running away from them didn’t help. 

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My problems were still there, patiently waiting for me.

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But I will say this, one morning you’d wake up in a strange land thousands of miles away from home, 

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and you’d be a nobody.

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No expectation, no judgment. 

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So instead of acting how people expect you to be,

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you act how you really feel, with complete agency and without feeling guilty for not trying hard enough. 

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That was what I felt, on my first morning in Alaska.

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The problems I ran away from no longer felt as heavy as it was.

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They just felt less overwhelming, less upsetting, and less scary.

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And for the moment, it was enough to stay alive.

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That’s what I’ll do. 

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To seek. 

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To strive. 

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To ride. 

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And not to yield. 

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I said it before and I said it again.

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Life moves pretty fast. 

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If you don’t stop and look around once in a while, you might miss it.