A few years back I tried to read "Zen and the Art of Motorcycle Maintenance," written by Robert Pirsig. I never finished the book (I found it to be too preoccupied with distant questions), yet one quote from it remained in my mind. Pirsig wrote that “In a car you're always in a compartment, and because you're used to it you don't realize that through that car window everything you see is just more TV. You're a passive observer and it is all moving by you boringly in a frame.

On a [motor]cycle the frame is gone. You're completely in contact with it all. You're in the scene, not just watching it anymore, and the sense of presence is overwhelming.”

I've been constantly reminded of this quote throughout my journey. Fellow cyclists (both motorized and non-motorized) always exclaim how traveling by bike adds to their travels. They feel in-tune with the terrain, the people they meet, and their experiences.

I've had folks in RVs and cars longingly tell me that they wish their method of transport bestowed upon them the same sentiments. And they have right to feel this way! On a bike, you experience each and every sense in the most visceral ways possible. You feel each pass and headwind, the sun rippling on the asphalt, the bite of each passing insect; you smell the decay of plants and animals, the crops, the humidity of the air; you see the smallest of details on your body, on the roadside, in the sky; you hear operatic bird calls, the stuttering of misfiring engines, the rumble of distant thunder; and, in many unfortunate instances, you taste the insects, the bitter diesel exhaust, the smoke in the air.

It begs the question: what better way is there to truly get to know a place?