I suddenly realized I was crying. Tears were streaming down my face as I rode down the freeway. I pulled my bike over to a safe spot. My sunglasses were fogged up. When I took them off, I noticed some kind of white powder stuck to the bottom of the lenses. It must’ve been my tears— blown upward by the wind, sticking to the glasses, drying out and turning into powder. I didn’t know tears turned into dust when they dried…
As I was wiping my sunglasses, a big, tough-looking biker slowed down and shouted, “Are you OK?” I gave him a thumbs-up— I’m good! Just the fact that I was on a bike was enough for a total stranger to worry about me. Man… Bikers really are kind people.
I wonder how many local bikers I’ve met on this trip so far. And every one of them treats me like an old friend. Just yesterday, a couple fueling up next to me at a gas station— I ended up riding with them for the whole day. Seriously, how friendly can they get? There are no borders between bikers. We don’t even need words. If you love motorcycles, that’s all it takes to erase any distance between us. I’ve been feeling that every day here. Math, music, and motorcycles— those things cross borders instantly. I guarantee it. It’s true. Honestly, it’s a hell of a discovery.
And that Indian guy earlier… He said I was his past life. And you know, it kind of makes sense. I’ve always lived by instinct since I was a kid. I can sort of “talk” with trees, insects, even clouds. With horses, one look into their eyes and I can tell what they’re feeling, what they’re thinking. But herbivores don’t like being stared at. Because being stared at intensely means a predator might be closing in. It makes them uneasy— like a tiger or lion is watching them. Well, animals used to humans are different, I guess.
Since I was little, I’ve loved making things, feeling nature, motorcycles, horses, the wide sky, the vast land. Cars, on the other hand, never suited me. I feel trapped inside them— like being in a cage.
Oh yeah, I rode a horse in Monument Valley the other day. A cute one with mottled patterns and gentle eyes. A Navajo guide led the way, but the horse I was riding kept messing around— wandering off on purpose. “Hey, where are you going?” The guide’s horse had to come pull us back several times. It was adorable.
…Yeah, I knew you were doing it on purpose.
Still, what happened earlier was truly strange…
At that moment, I felt completely one with the bike, the earth, the wind, my own breathing— like my sense of “self” had disappeared. What do you call that… Meditation? Yeah, I guess it was a meditative state. “Nothingness.” That kind of mental state. It felt incredible. Just riding a bike feels good enough, but that was something else.
There I was, going over 90 km/h on my Harley, and suddenly some presence started talking to me. I mean, come on— I was on a freeway. And right beside me, there was an Indian on horseback. Anyone would freak out, right? But it seemed like no one else could see him. What a ride that was. I’m not really into supernatural stuff, but that one… I have no choice but to believe it. My past life. Me. An iron horse and a real horse. What kind of touring is that?
I was mentally wrecked. Without any warning, I grabbed my helmet, a few changes of clothes, my passport, my credit card, and just flew out of Japan. Something must’ve pushed me. And this land guided me here. Nevada and Arizona— I’ve been here so many times since I was young that I can ride without a map now.
Freeways in North America feel unbelievably good. Straight roads that seem endless. Desert and wilderness as far as you can see. Then suddenly a town appears. Even the rundown motels have their own charm. Mexican food, ice cream shops, candy stores, Walmart, Super 8 Motel, Comfort Inn, Jack in the Box…
I love this scenery, this atmosphere. Riding from town to town— that kind of journey is just unbeatable.
Riding alone through the vast wilderness, the gentle wind wraps around me. I can feel the earth’s energy soaking into every cell of my body.
Just a few days ago, I was like a sleepwalker. But now I’m slowly coming back to life. Losing the person I loved most killed my heart once. It became irreparable— shattered into tiny pieces. I thought no one could ever bring me back. It was… a heartbreak far too painful.
To be continued…
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