The beginning of the end. The sun peeked through the trees. I decided to save my back and strap my pack down to the back seat underneath all my gear. Something I should have done from the beginning, as after my trip I began to have serious back issues. I sat more comfortably on the bike as I jumped onto the interstate and crossed into Virginia, leaving Tennessee and the crazy clowns behind.

Before heading out, I had to make a stop I only discovered the day before. Bristol, Tennessee was home to one of my favorite race tracks. Bristol Motor Speedway. It sat there, towering over the road. A modern day coliseum. The sun was just starting to peer over the top. I was stunned. Another gem of a discovery that I didn’t expect. After my last breakfast of Cliff bars and Gatorade, I finally was headed towards the end.

Virginia was beautiful. Lucious forests lined the highway. But the Highway Patrol lurked behind the trees, looking for speeders. Through my entire trip, I had seen, at most, a handful of police cars on the highway. Today, I would see over a dozen highway patrol cars handing out tickets to people. I watched my speed and cautiously sailed down the road. With my head on a swivel

With my head on a swivel, I watched my speed allowing for no reason to pull me over. I just didn’t want to be harassed. I had many miles to cover. It was a sobering moment realizing tomorrow I would have nowhere to go. I will have reached my destination and life would set in again. I would get a job, sit at work dreaming of the road. But it would be more difficult than before. Because now I know what it is like. I have a frame of reference. The pure bliss feeling of complete independence. Only focused on today. No worrying about tomorrow. Nothing stressing you out. Just you, your motorcycle, and the road under you. That feeling was gone.

Miles rolled on and on. But I enjoyed them. I had no desire for my trip to end and I was soaking in every moment I could. It took everything in me to not take the exit for the Blue Ridge Mountain Parkway. Most people say its the greatest driving road in North America. I knew I was already on a tight schedule and it would add a significant amount of time. I couldn’t afford to do that. So I continued on the interstate.

The sun was starting to set. I pulled off for my last fill up of the trip. It was a surreal moment. My last tank of gas for the trip was in my tank. Back on the interstate, after a mile, I was in West Virginia. In a span of maybe 45 minutes, I would go from Virginia to West Virginia, then to Maryland, and finally Pennsylvania. An hour was left on my trip. The miles slowly ticked away and the sun was setting on today and on my trip.

Turning onto Highway 30 in Chambersburg, this would be the last road I would be on for my journey. It would take me straight to Gettysburg. First I would cross the Appalachian Mountains. I passed over the Appalachian Trail and was on the downhill end. Gettysburg is known for its famous battle during the Civil War. Monuments for the battle can be found all over town and even a ways outside of town. I soon started passing some monuments. Then the battlefield came into view. Gettysburg was right there. I had journeyed 3500 miles. Traversed mountains and plains on a bike 16 years older than me. I had done it all at the age of 21. I loved it. It was painful to stop. But I was at least with family.

I pulled up to the white house in downtown Gettysburg. I parked on the curb. I had made it. Joy overcame me. My dad met me outside. I still haven’t processed what I have done. It’s surreal. It feels like long ago but I think about it every day.

Even know as I write this, I find it hard. Reliving my trip ending. It is incredibly sobering. It was something I dreamed of. Something I planned but never really thought I would do. I remember sitting in my apartment in Portland, OR watching Long Way Round while I planned all sorts of trips on my motorcycle. Finally, I had accomplished it. I had not only gone on a trip, but I had moved. This was a one-way journey. I wasn’t immediately coming back. I am here now. Does that make it harder? Giving everything up in one place and going somewhere else? So far away. Starting new. Having only everything I had with me on my bike.

Would I do it again?

Absolutely.

I will keep traveling on my bike. Anywhere and everywhere. She is a great bike and she has had to put up with me riding her. She is a tough one. And I am lucky to have her. Old is beautiful. It is also tough. I would like to thank the people on the KZ650 forum that helped me out so much when I needed it. They helped me keep the bike going. And they kept me going. That bike will outlive me that is for sure. But while I am alive, we will enjoy life to the fullest.