The Great Adventure

College was over! The flying caps had hit the ground days before, and the gowns were back at their rental agencies.

It would be a couple of months before medical school started.

What to do other than to go on A GREAT ADVENTURE!?! And so, we did just that.

Russ and I had some history of doing outside-the-box deeds throughout our college years, which made this next journey the epic culmination of our time together. Although we had pledged friendship for life, neither of us really knew where life would take us after college. Consequently, with full, robust intentions to seize the day, we planned a motorcycle trip to the legendary mountains of Colorado to seek and find a mythical colony of seceders from society who were supposed to be living somewhere in Boulder.

And we found them!

My recollection is that we devoted all of a week to plan our adventure before we filled our backpacks, bungied on our bedrolls, and took off from our homes in Ann Arbor, Michigan in late June astride our Triumph 500 motorcycles for the open road. Those were the days when Motel 6 actually cost six dollars for an overnight stay, so we blew our first money and took Tom Brown up on his offer of leaving the lights on for us, having pushed our first day past the limits of endurance and moonlight. That was also the last night we slept in a motel, or a hired bed, for several weeks.

Oh, we did crash in a real house outside of Boulder and slept on a real couch when we got there after meeting some fellow travelers at the infamous Magnolia Thunderpussy Café (No way we could make up THAT name.) who invited us to spend what might be our last night on Earth. Obviously, they didn't believe in the existence of the lost colony. In fact, they warned us extensively about the real dangers of getting permanently lost ourselves in the mountains, should we persist in our foolish quest.

We left the next morning to continue our search anyway.

Here you might realize that I omitted the entire sequence of events between Motel 6 and that morning. I am also going to omit the entire sequence of events on the road back to Ann Arbor. That is another story, called "The Greatest Road Trip Ever", replete with episodes of running out of fuel, picking up holes in our gas tanks-and getting them repaired by a death-defying welder who didn't give a second thought to the idea that the heat of an acetylene torch might cause a gas tank to explode; He got lucky...twice! And there was flying (a verb open to interpretation) down the highway at more than 120 mph, equipment breakdowns, bumping into various characters both savory and un, and getting shot at down the home stretch. Yep, all true.

Good news: we survived, and in all that time on the road, we never got rained on even once. Came mighty close one time, though. Thank You, Lord, for good weather, safe roads, and fast bikes.

We rolled into the foothills at 10:00 in the morning, sunshine splashing all around us, and picked up a clue. Another adventurer was coming down off the mountain after having lived in the lost colony for the past two weeks! Dazed and amazed, he tried to explain how to negotiate the tricky and dangerous path up to the group, as we took it all in.  Then he continued on down, and we went on up, weaving and snaking and pushing and pulling ourselves and our bikes ever forward into the sunlight.

It was "getting on toward sunset", as the locals describe it, when we crested a ridge, took in a deep breath that promptly was taken away, when we saw it. There before us was a hidden valley strewn with scenes from Woodstock, Easy Rider, and every outdoor concert you can think of! And just about every age group you can imagine, too. We, two friends for life, looked at each other and did a happy dance as we realized we had found Xanadu!

Now, to be honest, I do not remember most of the details of our next two weeks with the dropouts from society. What I can tell you is that the time passed most pleasantly, the water was cool and pure, the food was plentiful (Did I forget to relate that we hadn't brought any with us?), the sun was warm, the nights were long, there was a lot of this and that, everybody shared everything-including our motorcycles, which we had told each other we would NOT do, lest someone gets injured (Hah!), things happened, we happened...

Try as I have, many times, to recall the specific events of that period of time, I just haven't been able to do it. Neither has Russ. However, we do know and agree on this: had we not promised each other that we would NOT STAY THERE FOREVER because I had med school ahead of me and he had a grad school spot waiting, we might still be in Shangri La, er Xanadu. You get the picture.

So, ten pounds lighter each, and a fortnight later, we guided our motor steeds down the mountain, attempting to tell another few folks how to navigate up to where we had just come from. Full circle; such is life.

Perhaps, one day, I will be able to fill in the blanks of my Great Adventure. If I do, watch for that streaming event...and seek your own Great Adventure while you still can!

Charles. B. Goldberg, MD