How I learned to ride a motorcycle, speak Spanish, and not die.
Riding solo in search of adventure from Detroit to Argentina.
“I want to go on an adventure.”
I have never ridden a motorcycle.
I don’t speak Spanish.
I only have two weeks to prep.
I just had major hip surgery and there’s a global pandemic going on.
Why don’t I try to ride to Argentina?
FRIEND: “You’re only the person I know who
almost dies every week
in some really interesting way.”
SERGEI: “Yeah, but when it does finally happen —
it’s going to be spectacular.”
Almost simultaneously when I first thought of the idea,
the decision was already made.
I was going to take off for a year on a motorcycle and ride south to the last country on Earth.
RUSTY: “Do you know…how to ride…a motorcycle?”
What could go wrong?
“Maybe I’ll ride for like three days…or maybe a year. Let’s see how it goes. I hope to make it as far as Toledo, or possibly, you know - Buenos Aires.”
Fifteen countries, thirteen thousand miles, seven months, six crashes...and still rolling.