The first official ride of the season was a 600-miler.
The five of us took off from Gorshin Trading Post in Downtown Haddonfield thinking, "We've got this." Each of us had been designated with a role to play (mapper of a scenic route, finder of choice places to stop, reserver of a Catskills dive to sleep in etc.) and we each were carrying gear that would serve the group. Everything was covered and agreed upon except for one thing - the pace.
You don't cover serious distance on your first ride of the season without a little push. That push came from our friend Greg, who builds and races motorcycles in his spare time. It was thanks to him that we found ourselves winding and bending, full out, along the kinds of roads you dream about when you first buy your motorcycle and wish for whenever you find yourself on said motorcycle idling in traffic. Few stops, much scenery, a ton of adrenaline, big smiles all around.
Forty-eight hours later we were back, trying not to walk like we'd just rode into town on horses from the Ponderosa. But there was no fooling anyone - the grins on our faces said it all: we'd gone far and ridden long making every one of the hitches in our giddy ups well worth it.