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Epilogue: Some things just can't heal

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Back in April of 2014, it was cathartic for me to write about my ill-fated cross-country motorcycle trip, the accident that ended the trip one day in, and my physical and emotional recovery . But all these years later, there is a tragic and final chapter worth  documenting. When  I flew home a week after the accident, it was hard not to perseverate about the crash. How exactly did it happen? Why was it me who woke up and got hit that morning? What if I had left an hour later? A minute later? Seconds? Early on, I did some sleuthing and found that the person driving the truck  was a man named Brian. (For those who don't remember or want to go back to understand what happened, you can read about it here .)   I had tracked him down by the large web address splashed across the rear windshield of his truck - maxboom.com , a  training business for construction  riggers and  crane operators that Brian had apparently run for many years. Screenshot of now-defunct maxboom.com. I believe that
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Road to Recovery

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HAPPY ACCIVERSARY One week ago, at the very moment I am writing this, the accident happened. I must say it has consumed a lot of my emotions and energy since then. But I wanted to document some of the great times and healing that has happened since. First, a few more practical matters to get out of the way. Yesterday, I found out that Brian, the man who hit me, did not fall asleep at the wheel as initially thought. It turns out that he had a heart attack. He was lucid when his truck came to rest and, confused, he had told the troopers that he had fallen asleep. But upon delivering him to the hospital after the crash, he apparently flatlined and was immediately put on life support - he has been on life support ever since. Today, I learned that he is likely not going to make it. Knowing that he had a heart attack certainly changes my perspective quite a bit. My cousin Scott made an observation - and I agree with him - that we can't really fault Brian for being negligent. This wa
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Jerome and the Days After

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It's hard to know how to thank everybody for the outpouring of love and support over the last two days. From what was easily the scariest moment of my life and a potential tragedy has emerged a warm feeling of kinship and appreciation for my friends and family. I can't think of anything more cliché but I have to state the obvious - this should remind everyone that life is far more flimsy than we know. But this has also happily led me towards reconnecting with certain people with whom I haven't spoken in a long time. It's nice to know that although they may be out of sight, when it really counts you know people are there for you. From my heart, thank you all for your kind words and concern. I'm not sure it's worth trying to be too philosophical  about something like this - I've already played the 'scenarios game'. Could I have braked earlier? Could I have swerved more to avoid him? What if I had been there five seconds earlier? Five seconds late
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Location: Desert Highlands Scottsdale
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Through the Air with the Greatest of Ease...

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This trip was scheduled to take 1-2 months and to cover approximately 4500 miles. So you can imagine my surprise when I woke up today - the first day of this trip - took a shower, ate breakfast, packed up my tent, turned onto I-10, and found myself thirty minutes later sailing through the air after being hit by a truck at 70mph. The day started beautifully. This was my view out of the tent this morning. A quiet space to spread out An early morning selfie I came into camp a dirty, hot mess the night before so things were just  slightly  disorganized Getting everything together while eating breakfast It couldn't have been a more beautiful day, and I took this on the way out of the campground I have always been nervous about riding. I was in an accident in Taiwan back in 1994. I had just purchased a small motorcycle with my old friend Tim Russell and as I was following him home that night, I wasn't able to swerve to miss an unmarked, kiddie pool-sized pothole in middle of the ro
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