We watch movies, read books and blogs, and think about getting on the motorcycle and riding the open roads into an adventure. Is this a romanticized sense of adventure, or is there something on our nature that compels us to leave the crowds of the city, and see where the world takes us?

Having made multiple road trips by car, I’ve always wanted to repeat the trips on a motorcycle. The wind, the sites, and the places I might not see otherwise. Yet, the question has to be asked, will any of this happen? Or is it more likely that my trip will comprise one traffic filled town or city to the next, eating at the same fast-food restaurants? Will I meet interesting people to swap stories with at the campsites, or will I lay awake in my tent at night, listening to the group at the next site over blasting crappy music and shouting in alcohol-induced delusions that the partying at the campsite is somehow better than the regular party at someone’s house?

There is only one way to find out what will happen: Get on the bike, packed full of gear, kiss the loved one’s goodbye and head down the road to find out.

The original trip of two weeks, down the Oregon and California coast, over into Arizona and up through Utah has changed. Now it’s one week, down to Portland following the Columbia before cutting down into the northern tip of Nevada. And back through Utah and Idaho.

Not the trip that was originally planned but a trip on the motorcycle all the same. Plans change, and people change with the plans. It will still be me and the open road. Hotels instead of camping. And a visit with my grandparents and anyone I might meet along the way.

I loaded up the BMW F650 GS with all my gear, made sure that someone would keep an eye on my dog, and headed to the first stop – Portland, Oregon.

Next Stop: Utah and Back: Bike Guy