Born for the Road

It started with my dad.

Weekend rides, the wind, the road opening up ahead. I didn't know it then, but those early mornings on the back of his bike planted something in me that never went away.

As I got older it became my own. I joined a motorcycle crew and every weekend we'd meet up and ride. What started as a group of people who liked bikes turned into something much deeper. The road has a way of doing that. When you spend enough time riding together, navigating the unexpected, looking out for each other, it stops being a hobby and starts feeling like family.

In Mexico I rode a Ducati Multistrada V4. We covered serious ground together. Guadalajara, Veracruz, Oaxaca, and countless other cities and roads across Mexico — each trip with its own character, its own surprises, its own moments that are impossible to fully explain to someone who wasn't there.

That's the thing about riding. You can't half pay attention. The moment you're on the bike, everything else falls away. No past, no future. Just the road in front of you, the machine underneath you, and complete presence. It's the closest thing I know to meditation.

What riding in a group taught me goes beyond the road itself. The logistics of moving together, finding the same pace and rhythm, looking out for each other without losing your own line — that's a skill. And it's one I've carried into everything I do.

Those memories will last forever. And the road isn't done with me yet.