The late-night descent into Roswell, New Mexico, on our UFO Tour (August 2001) had me, Jamie, Andy and photographer Dean Groover strafing the highway leading into the city. The pavement was smooth and well marked. Our bikes all had relatively good ground clearance. I was lead rider through a seemingly endless series of sweeping turns. As I switched from one corner to the next, I felt the headlights of the other bikes on my back projecting multiple silhouettes of my bag-laden machine up the road before me. Occasionally, I’d drag a peg to send sparks scurrying toward them. We maintained this dance—sometimes spread out, other times bunched up, but always in unison—until the road straightened out for the final dive into Roswell. I wanted to turn around and do the whole thing again, to maintain the feeling, relish it, for we don’t get enough of those times in our lives where we can truly step outside of ourselves and live exclusively in the moment.