If you own a motorcycle, you've thought about it. Even if you don't, you've imagined yourself doing it. I'm talking about The Trip.

Coast-to-Coast. East to west, west to east, it doesn't matter. It's the one you must take. If you don't, I guaran-goddamn-tee you it will top the regret list that rolls through your head as you breathe your last.

That's what made this trip a no-brainer for me. Something about hitting your fifties and being a cancer survivor creates a sense of urgency to do as many things as possible. It lays bare the absurdity of murdering your life in a nine-to-five job. In a matter of minutes, going coast to coast and back went from an entertaining daydream to a res judicata -- a thing decided. The course was set.