Ron
0:18
Hi
friends,
I
would
encourage
you
now
to
take
a
moment
to
relax,
to
take
a
deep
breath,
and
to
listen
to
these
words
from
a
very
wise
and
a
very
loving
Dakota
grandmother
to
her
grandson.
She
said
this.
I'm
Ron
Francis
in
Loveland,
Colorado,
where
today
we
are
diving
deep
into
the
psychology
of
motorcycle
travel.
Very
deep.
And
more
importantly,
I
think
if
we're
focused
and
if
we're
careful,
we
may
be
able
to
open
ourselves
up
to
being
changed
by
that
journey.
Thank
you
for
joining
me
today.
Stay
tuned.
Ron
1:50
I
explored
the
area
on
foot
and
saw
the
ruins
of
these
very
old
Indian
villages,
and
it
was
there
that
I
purchased
a
book
on
Indian
philosophy.
It's
deep.
After
his
mother
died
when
he
was
still
very
young,
he
was
raised
entirely
by
his
paternal
grandmother,
a
revered
Dakota
woman
named
Chi
Yu
Qi.
He
called
her
Unchita,
which
is
the
affectionate
and
respectful
Dakota
name
for
grandmother.
This
grandmother
raised
her
grandson
completely
in
the
tradition
of
the
Dakota
way.
She
didn't
just
teach
him
how
to
survive
and
embrace
his
heritage,
she
also
taught
him
how
to
listen.
She
instilled
in
him
a
love
for
nature.
She
demonstrated
to
him
the
power
of
storytelling
and
the
philosophy
of
lifelong
learning.
As
for
me,
had
I
not
been
traveling
without
a
real
plan
or
particular
route
in
mind,
I
could
have
easily
missed
that
little
bookstore
inside
the
National
Monument.
It's
really
a
miracle
that
I
ran
across
those
words
at
all,
given
that
at
the
time
I
was
just
exploring
along
a
lonely
road
where
I'd
never
been
before.
I
didn't
even
know
that
the
National
Monument
was
out
there.
But
it
was
along
that
road
that
I
caught
it
out
of
the
corner
of
my
eye,
and
I
stopped
and
turned
right
around
in
the
middle
of
the
road
to
go
back
and
check
it
out.
And
I'm
so
glad
that
I
did.
Because
you
see,
I
was
met
there
by
a
Native
American
park
ranger
who
warmly
greeted
me.
He
shook
my
hand
and
I
believe
he
said,
Sir,
I'm
so
glad
you
stopped
to
see
us.
Yeah,
he
was
a
nice
man.
He
talked
to
me
quite
a
while.
He
was
just
very
enthusiastic
that
I
pick
up
what
they
had
to
say.
And
if
I
did
anything
right,
I
listened.
What
a
great
experience.
What
a
great
unexpected
experience.
You
remember
what
doctor
Eastman's
grandmother
told
him?
When
you
see
a
new
trail
or
a
footprint
you
do
not
know,
follow
it
to
the
point
of
knowing.
Maybe
in
a
little
way
I
did.
Well,
let's
think
about
that
for
a
second.
Follow
it
to
the
point
of
knowing.
It's
a
directive,
I
guess,
rooted
in
what
we
may
call
radical
curiosity.
I
like
that
term.
I'd
even
call
it
courage.
It's
a
willingness
to
step
into
the
unfamiliar
for
the
sake
of
learning.
Of
knowing.
Ron
5:30
As
usual,
after
leaving
the
National
Monument
with
my
brand
new
little
book,
I
stopped
to
start
reading
it
at
a
small
coffee
shop
in
Durango,
which
was
about
half
an
hour
away.
As
I
read
those
words,
When
You
See
a
New
Trail,
my
mind
immediately
drifted
to
what
I
was
doing
right
then,
traveling
by
motorcycle.
It
actually
brought
to
mind
a
song
that
I
always
like.
I've
probably
mentioned
this
before,
but
inside
my
helmet
I
play
one
song
after
another,
all
in
my
head.
The
song
is
Life
is
a
Highway,
and
the
version
I
like
is
sung
by
Rascal
Flats,
and
it
was
used
in
the
Pixar
movie
called
Cars.
Oh
wow.
How
the
words
to
that
song
fit
that
quote,
I
think.
We
all
sing
along
to
the
chorus,
but
if
you
look
at
the
actual
lyrics,
I
think
it's
pretty
close
to
the
same
spirit
of
the
quote
from
that
wonderful
Dakota
grandmother.
Some
of
the
lyrics
say,
Life's
like
a
road
that
you
travel
on,
when
there's
one
day
here
and
the
next
day
gone.
Sometimes
you
bend
and
sometimes
you
stand,
and
sometimes
you
turn
your
back
to
the
wind,
because
life
is
a
highway,
and
I
want
to
ride
it
all
night
long.
That
desire
to
ride
it
all
night
long
isn't
about
rushing
to
a
specific
destination.
I
think
that
it's
embracing
the
mystery
of
the
road
itself.
It's
saying,
I'm
completely
mentally
and
spiritually
open
to
whatever
this
road
has
to
show
me.
Ron
7:32
Now,
let's
be
honest.
To
a
certain
extent,
thorough
trip
planning
is
a
great
idea.
Yeah,
we're
strong
advocates
of
that
around
here.
We've
all
been
there.
It's
smart
to
look
at
the
weather,
to
map
out
fuel
stops
through
desolate
areas,
and
to
generally
know
where
you
want
to
lay
your
head
for
the
night's
stay.
Nobody
wants
to
be
stranded
on
the
side
of
a
mountain
at
midnight
in
a
pouring
rain,
trying
to
find
a
place
to
put
up
a
tent
in
the
dark.
But
there's
a
distinct
breed
of
rider
out
there,
and
you
may
be
one
of
them.
These
are
the
riders
who
prepare
for
the
ride
just
enough
to
be
safe
and
secure,
but
they
don't
overplan.
They
deliberately
leave
a
buffer.
They
leave
a
space
for
the
unexpected,
an
opportunity
for
the
unexpected.
So
let's
call
that
space
the
gap.
Maybe
think
of
it
this
way.
The
gap
is
the
distance
between
a
rigid
itinerary
and
total
chaos.
It's
the
blank
space
on
your
calendar.
And
I
firmly
believe
that
some
of
the
absolute
best,
most
transformative
ride
experiences,
at
least
that
I've
ever
had,
have
been
in
the
gap.
I
believe
that
I
found
the
National
Monument,
the
bookstore,
and
that
book
in
the
gap.
You
see,
I
think
that
when
you're
overscheduled
for
your
ride,
when
you
know
exactly
what
time
you'll
be
hitting
every
single
waypoint,
and
you
know
where
you're
planning
to
eat
lunch
and
which
tourist
trap
you'll
be
stopping
at,
you
inadvertently
close
the
door
on
chance,
on
opportunity,
on
serendipity.
How's
that
for
a
great
word?
You
become
a
manager
of
a
schedule
rather
than
an
explorer
of
everything
around
you.
Ron
9:48
You
see,
when
you
ride
within
the
gap,
your
mindset
shifts.
You're
no
longer
just
trying
to
make
good
time,
instead,
you
sit
on
the
bike
cruising
down
some
unknown
road,
and
maybe
a
whisper
comes
into
your
head.
A
whisper
of
a
prayer
that
says,
Show
me
what
I
have
not
seen.
Show
me
what
you
have
to
show
me,
and
allow
me
to
be
open
for
new
connections
and
ideas,
and
most
of
all,
grant
me
the
gift
of
an
open
mind.
As
another
line
from
Life
is
a
Highway
says,
there's
a
world
outside
every
darkened
door.
But
I'll
tell
you,
you
have
to
be
willing
to
open
the
door
and
look.
And
you
have
to
build
in
enough
unscheduled,
unrushed
time
to
even
catch
the
door
out
of
the
corner
of
your
eye.
So
when
we
let
go
of
the
need
to
control
every
mile,
we
make
room
for
the
magic.
We
meet
people
we
would
have
never
talked
to.
We
see
vistas
that
aren't
on
any
tourist
map.
We
find
roadside
diners
that
have
the
best
pie
you've
ever
tasted,
and
we
have
conversations
that
shift
our
perspective,
possibly
on
all
of
humanity.
I
believe
that
traveling
on
a
motorcycle
is
already
an
act
of
vulnerability,
which
is
good.
We're
exposed
to
the
helmet,
sure,
the
wind
and
the
risks
of
riding,
but
when
you
couple
that
physical
openness
with
mental
openness,
when
you
actively
seek
the
gap,
that
trip
stops
just
being
a
vacation.
It
becomes
a
catalyst.
It
becomes
a
journey
that
can
legitimately,
if
you're
lucky,
change
your
life.
Ron
12:15
So
my
challenge
to
you,
my
friends,
for
your
next
ride
is
this
pack
your
gear,
check
your
tires,
map
out
your
first
day
for
sure,
but
leave
the
rest
maybe
a
little
blurry.
When
you
see
that
unknown
footprint
or
the
unmapped
road
that
you
just
catch
out
of
the
corner
of
your
eye,
maybe
turn
around
and
follow
it
to
the
point
of
knowing.
So
let's
let
the
highway
show
you
what
it
has
to
show
you.
And
let's
ride
it
all
night
long.
And
as
always,
remember,
be
good
to
yourself,
be
good
to
other
people.
Maybe
buy
yourself
or
a
friend,
a
mug
or
a
sticker
from
the
Peace
Love
Photo
store.
It's
great
to
be
with
you,
my
friends.
Right
safe.
Have
fun.
