The Last Great Adventure

In 1993, my sister and her friend Melanie rode from Pittsburgh, PA, to my flat in the Haight in San Francisco.

She had little money, and even less experience on a bike. But she did have a huge curiosity about seeing this country. She didn't give me the full story about her trip until she was sick with cancer and the two of us were holed up on the guest bed in her house, talking about our lives. She knew at the time that I was terrified of the idea of her making this trip, two women, on motorcycles, with nothing but the rubber and the road and 3,000 loneley miles in-between. She didn't tell me about the falls, the flood, or the lack of funds, till 10 years later. When she was looking back on a life fully lived. Even at the age of 28.

Carolla always inspired me. She was four years younger, but so, so tough. Braver, stronger, and more confident in her risks. I read recently that there is a gene that you inherit that manifests this behavior. She sure as hell had it. I sure as hell don't.

Tonight two years ago, she died as we lay side by side. So I blow kisses to her and link to her story that played on B-Side, the story of her cross-country adventure.