Turning 50 isn’t something I want to mark with a single party or a single moment. Half a century deserves more than cake and candles — it deserves a journey. That’s why I’ve decided to embark on a 50 year adventure.
The real question is: Is 50 a one-day event… or an entire event year?
For me, I’m leaning toward the latter. A year of chasing horizons on two wheels — of exploring the world’s wild edges by motorcycle, where the engine hums like a heartbeat and every turn is a choice between fear and freedom.
The Road Through the Himalayas
There’s something magnetic about the idea of riding through India’s Himalayas — tracing the road from Manali to Leh, crossing the high passes where oxygen thins and clarity grows. Embarking on such a 50 year journey would be exhilarating.
No luxury, no safety net — just the raw rhythm of the bike and the mountains that don’t care how old you are, how rich you are, or what brought you there.
Every mile would be a meditation.
Every flat tire, a lesson.
Every mountain pass, a reminder that the view is only earned by the climb.
The Himalayas don’t give you an easy ride. They give you perspective.
Chasing the Northern Lights
From those peaks, the idea of heading north — way north — starts to whisper. This 50-year adventure includes dreams of riding across Alaska or Scandinavia, the night skies alive with green and purple light. A motorcycle in the snow may sound impractical, but maybe that’s the point.
The Northern Lights are a phenomenon you earn through patience, timing, and luck. Much like a good ride, they’re unpredictable — sometimes brutal, sometimes perfect. And maybe standing there beside your bike, frozen breath hanging in the air, you realize: this is what it means to live wide open.
Nepal: Riding Where Spirit Meets Earth
Then there’s Nepal — not just for trekking, but for the roads that weave through monasteries, valleys, and remote villages. A place where every turn brings something sacred, and every stop reminds you that connection matters more than speed.
To ride through Nepal is to feel time slow down. It’s not about horsepower — it’s about heartpower.
The hum of the engine blends with prayer chants and mountain winds, and you begin to understand that the road itself is the destination on a 50-year adventure.
Southeast Asia: The Rhythm of the Open Road
When the mountains fade into mist, the next chapter could unfold farther south — through Southeast Asia, where the road becomes a story of color, chaos, and calm.
Picture winding through Thailand’s Mae Hong Son loop, crossing into Laos where time seems to pause, or gliding along Vietnam’s coastal Highway 1 with the sea on one side and jungle on the other.
Southeast Asia is where adventure softens into flow.
You trade mountain passes for rice paddies, and high-altitude cold for humid, heartbeat-warm nights.
You stop for street food, barter for gas in plastic bottles, and ride among people who live simply — yet fully.
It’s a reminder that the adventure of turning 50 doesn’t always have to be extreme.
Sometimes, the greatest joy is just feeling the wind on your face, the hum of the road beneath you, and the realization that you made it here.
The Risk and the Reward of the Ride
At 50, adventure feels different. It’s not about adrenaline anymore — it’s about aliveness.
Sure, there are risks: altitude, fatigue, mechanical breakdowns, weather that turns on a dime. But the reward? The kind of clarity you can’t find in a meeting room or a comfort zone on a 50 year adventure.
Every road teaches something.
Every ride strips away noise until all that’s left is truth.
And maybe that’s what this milestone should be: not just a celebration of the years behind me, but a declaration that the road ahead is still wide open — full of stories I haven’t written yet.
The 50-Year Journey
So maybe the answer is both.
Fifty isn’t a day or a year — it’s a ride.
A ride through continents, cultures, and quiet places that remind you what it means to be alive.
From the Himalayas to the Arctic Circle, from Nepal’s valleys to the backroads of Southeast Asia — I want to see it all from behind the handlebars.
Because at 50, I don’t want to slow down.
I just want to keep moving — throttle open, soul steady, eyes on the horizon through this 50-year adventure.
