In September of 2019, life as I know it changed. My husband Mike died in a motorcycle accident. He made a mistake on a corner and there happened to be a truck coming the other direction. I was riding my own bike behind him and watched it happen. I know this sounds terrible, but in so many ways it wasn’t because I know exactly what occurred, I can’t doubt the cause, or have anger towards the truck driver (he did everything he could to avoid the collision).
With no kids (just cats), and both of us retired early, we spent most of our time exploring and riding (when I could get him away from his motorcycle and car collecting habit). We had various riding buddies over the years, but most of the time it was just the two of us.
Riding motorcycles (and owning them) was our passion (okay, probably obsession is closer to the truth) since we first married in 1989.
I worked for a motorcycle performance shop, and Mike was a driver for UPS. My job gave us really fun opportunities in the motorcycle world (and good parts discounts!), and Mike’s gave us the financial security to make our lifestyle possible.
Over the years we rode quads, dirt bikes, dual sport, street, and adventure bikes, and we loved to travel! Many great memories come from travels in the western and central US, in a motorhome, with quads or dirt bikes in tow, or on bikes. Two big month-long rides took us to Alaska, and then the following year, eastward to St. Johns Newfoundland.
Virtual pins in a binary map don’t really mean much, but this shows some of the places we traveled.