For The Tribune-Democrat
The sun is just rising into a clear sky, the day still fresh, new, and unspoiled.
After one last check of the loaded bike, I turn the key and punch the starter. The engine roars, and with a final good-bye, the bike rolls down the driveway and onto the road. My spirit soars; I have answered the call of the open road.
Every spring, I suffer the pangs of adventure. I try to satisfy, or at least allay them with 200-mile Saturday rides, and taking the long way home from work. But as the weather warms, and the day lengthens, I cannot help but open a road atlas and dream.
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