My hobby is travel. It’s taken me 40 years to travel to 140 countries. I’m running out of the easy places to go. I’m finished with the Western Hemisphere. I’m finished with Europe. I’m finished with Southeast Asia. I still need the “stan” countries (e.g. Afghanistan, Pakistan, Turkmenistan, Kazakhstan, Uzbekistan, Turkmenistan, Tajikistan, Kyrgyzstan) which are extremely difficult to get visas for, you have to have letters of invitation, tour guides and such, very difficult to do on your own. I need the war zone countries like Iraq and Syria. Going to Nepal and Bhutan will be fun. I need New Zealand, that will be fun. New Guinea is a long way off, and unless you go way in to visit isolated tribes, I’m not sure will be great fun. I need islands like Tahiti and Fiji, that will be fun. If any travelers want to meet somewhere, or if you have tips, feel free to contact me. Thanks, and bon voyage.
Visited Lithuania in 2010, picked up hitchhiker, he couldn’t speak English, we drove 20 minutes, I saw a parasail way way high in the sky, he pointed up, I realized his light backpack, was no backpack, it was his parachute stuffed in a bag that he threw in the backseat, he motioned, we drove off the road past a farm down a bumpy road, till we found a group of 25 people, a few spoke English, they smiled, and asked if I wanted to go up, I said yes, I was hooked to the guy, we were hooked to a tiny beat-up Russian car, and pulled by rope, up, higher, higher, higher, till we were straight up over the car, when he motioned to me, to pull the metal rod out, and boing, we shot up even higher. We circled for 15 minutes, a half mile in the air; I was terrified every second till we landed back on the ground. I love the adventure of travel.
Great to finally see your blog up Bill. You’re a crazy SOB with huge cojones. I think you have a genetic deficiency which inhibits your capability to experience fear. Remember that pillion ride on the Kawasaki from LHR to Somerset, UK? There’s you on the back of the ZX-9R with a HUGE rucksack (I think you yanks call them ‘backpacks’?) while I’m touching 130 mph – and no dig in my side; tap on my shoulder or even a scream from you. There’s definitely something wrong with you in that department. Cool as a cucumber when we arrived at the hotel. Anyway, as I look back, I have to apologise for my irresponsible riding. I remember we also hit Windsor castle while you were with me on that trip. Can’t wait for you to visit in Thailand – sorry you won’t be able to claim that as a new country. It’s been too long. Miss you man.
Let me translate my English friend’s English into American English: I knew Dale in the U.S. but decided to visit him in England when he moved back. He’s going to pick me up at the airport in London. We walk out to his car, and there’s no car, just a motorcycle. How am I going to ride across England with my suitcase on a motorcycle. My bag has some straps, so I used them like shoulder straps, and jump on the back. We leave London. We hit a desolate part of the highway, and Dale starts picking up speed a bit, then a bit more, then a bit more. We’re up to 100 mph, still the speed increases. I figure Dale knows what he’s doing. I figure Dale does not have a death wish. We hit 110 mph, 120 mph, I hunker down on the back. Still we increase speed. Dale tells me later we hit 130 mph. Dale was trying to break me, but as he says, never a peep did I utter from the rear. The interesting thing is I’ve known Dale for maybe 25 years, and that’s definitely the most memorable moment we shared.