A case study in bad judgment, unexpected connection, and the art of not dying.
How I learned to ride a motorcycle, speak Spanish, and not die. Riding solo in search of adventure from Detroit to Argentina.
“What could go wrong?”
THIS IS HOW IT STARTED
In September 2021, I decided to do something profoundly stupid.
I had no motorcycle experience. I didn't speak Spanish. I was coming off major hip surgery. And, to top it all off, the world was mid-pandemic, and everything was closing, shifting, or breaking. Most people would have seen those as reasons to stay home. I saw them as a reason to get on a motorcycle and head south.
The official story is that I had about two weeks to prepare. The reality? It felt like no prep.
What followed was a seven-month, thirteen-thousand-mile odyssey through fifteen countries. It involved six crashes, a lot of confusion, a fair amount of “WTF” moments, and the constant realization that while I was trying to find adventure, adventure was mostly just trying to kill me.
“This is happening!”
The Cast of Characters
A journey this chaotic doesn't happen in a vacuum. It takes a village—or at least, a very specific, slightly dysfunctional group of entities.
La Barra: My motorcycle. She is capable, experienced, and occasionally judgmental. We have a complicated relationship that oscillates between "unbreakable bond" and "why did I choose this life?"
Rusty: My remote "Alfred in the Bat Cave." The lifeline. The man who keeps me tethered to reality when the road gets too long or the map gets too confusing.
Larry: The ghost in the rearview mirror. The ex-girlfriend, the heartbreak, and the reason I needed to ride toward something—anything—else.
The Mask: My identity on the road. Because sometimes the best way to truly see the world is to make sure the world doesn't see you.
More Than Just Miles
Biker Ferper Gringo isn’t a travel brochure. You won’t find curated "Top 10" lists or polished influencer fantasies here. This is a record of what happens when you trade comfort for curiosity.
It is a collection of stories about:
The Grit: The loneliness of the long stretches and the physical toll of the road.
The Wildlife: My obsession with ferping (field herpetology)—the art of finding and photographing the strange, beautiful, and often tiny creatures that live in the shadows of the places I pass through.
Humanity: The kindness of strangers in small villages and the connections that happen when you stop acting like a tourist and start acting like a guest.
Why I’m Writing This
I believe adventure isn't something you only find when you have a passport, heavy bike, or some other way to feel where you’re going..
Adventure is a state of mind: it’s the courage to have a difficult conversation, the bravery to learn a new language, or the audacity to walk into a room where you don't know the rules. It is the (rage)—that quiet, ferocious pursuit of a life actually lived.
I write to remind you that the world is much bigger, much stranger, and much more connected than we are led to believe. I want to take you somewhere you may never go on your own, and hopefully leave you with a little more empathy for the people you don’t yet understand.
