Compass 650

There's a somewhat obvious but unfortunate aspect of ripping a moto through the Americas that I wish didn't happen but ultimately I've found to be unavoidable.  It opens way more doors than it closes but at the same time takes away a sensation so unique it feels like a damn funeral when you realize you're missing it.  Becoming accustomed to life on the road, building confidence, settling in, whatever you want to call it has the strange kind of regrettable dulling affect you wish our peanut minds weren't capable of.  We're to good at it, we remember and learn the smallest aspects and calculate the nano risk variables and the data base builds.  What seemed to be a big deal on day one is taken in stride on day 200.  The virginity of those first few days and weeks can only live on in memory, text, and photos.  Ultimately the road is long and the experiences do build on each other and before you know it you've built a damn mansion where once only the shadow of ...

So yeah I took a little break and whether I was actively pursuing anything or not some things happened in there.  In an effort to bring this blog, myself, and anyone else who gives a damn up to speed here we go.  The movement was always going to be gradual as the evolution of this trip will inevitably be a process of weeks, months and years, not hours and days. Fear not though, it adds up.  The hours, days, and weeks that constitute the past 3 or so months are definitely not lost to the oblivion of blurred together memories and experiences.  No they're just adding up to something bigger in a way only time allows.  In fact that's precisely why I believe a few months away from writing were necessary: the bigger picture needs time to unfold, to grow into it's own being.  The list of gangsta ass events and tall tales I've no need to exagerate is certainly long and grows by the day.   Possibly one of the most pointed lessons I've learned from a pure...