Travel Reference
In-Depth Information
know what a petcock is, but if you do, then you would know that petcocks are never to be
turned off when riding. Never! I switched the pesky little petcock
on
and started the engine.
I had to rush to the house of the biggest mustache in Nevada, thanking Richard and all
the passers-by who had witnessed my small moment of indiscipline. From my rearview
mirror, I could see Richard watching me as I left, and I hoped that one day he would be the
one riding off into the sunset.
Though most of the other houses on Maurice's suburban street were lit up, his was pitch
black, making it look like no one was home. My worst fears were realized. I had arrived 45
minutes late, and Maurice had gone to sleep. Maybe he had come to his senses and decided
that inviting a random Englishman into his home wasn't such a good idea after all.
I kept manically pressing the doorbell and considered jumping over the gate, but then
I remembered this was America and most people have guns, particularly people with big
moustaches (that's my last joke, I promise). I couldn't help but wonder what I was doing
all this for. I mean, I wanted to show that the world could be kind, I wanted to be a part
of its kindness, but was this really the only way I could do it? Did I always have to leave
home in order to prove a point? And just what was I trying to prove, anyway? That strange
men with large moustaches would open their homes to even stranger men with yellow mo-
torbikes? Did I really need to cross the world to find that out?
“We didn't know if you were going to make it,” Maurice called out just as I began to
walk away.
Maurice was approaching his gate as I told him, “I almost didn't.”
“Come on in, son,” he replied as we went into his house. The house was filled with
people and animals and far too many details for my weary brain to keep track of. All I knew
was that my first day across the world was going to end with a bed.
* * *
The next two days were spent riding farther east across the vastness of America. Kindness
One was quickly becoming somewhat of a celebrity, with locals across the country buying
me gas, offering me bottles of water, a quick lunch, or a kind smile before going on their
way.
It seems like every day we are inundated with heartbreaking stories of war, cancer, and
death. It can become easy to believe that people only know how to treat each other badly.
But I don't believe that's our true nature. The kindness that runs through us is what's genu-
ine. It's built into the smallest gestures—a “Best wishes!” or an “All right, mate!” called
