Hey everyone, it’s Alexander.
Two weeks in, and the ride is starting to feel real. Like, “what have I gotten myself into” real. Leaving my sister’s place in Florida last Tuesday, I was greeted by rain—not the gentle, cinematic kind but the kind that makes you second-guess your life choices. And that’s when it hit me: this isn’t just a road trip; it’s a test of will.
The first few days were all about miles and mental grit. Alabama, Louisiana, Texas—mile after mile of flat, straight roads. The wind didn’t let up, and by Friday in Texas hill country, it was full-on chaos. Let me paint you a picture: 129 km/h speed limits, highways scattered with an incredible amount of roadkill including deer, coyotes and what looked like family pets. It was grim, and dodging that carnage wasn't my idea of fun. To top it off the wind was so relentless I didn't dare take one hand off the handlebars to scratch my nose without risking a wipeout.
I’d be lying if I said it wasn’t exhausting. By the time I hit Lordsburg, New Mexico, I was toast. Four days of dodging semis on the interstate left me drained, so I took Sunday to rest in this tiny town that’s more railway stop than anything else. But the break gave me time to reflect.
This ride isn’t just about me; it’s about what I’m riding for. Every mile, every brutal gust of wind, every moment I miss my family and friends—it’s all for Inspirations Studio. They’re a ceramics program that helps marginalized women and gender-diverse folks rebuild their lives. And let me tell you, as someone who’s had to pick up the pieces in my own life, their work is something I believe in with every ounce of me.
Monday’s ride through Arizona brought a much-needed change of pace. The desert unfolded like a scene out of a cowboy movie—the kind I grew up watching. As a kid, I wanted to be a cowboy, and somewhere between the cacti and the endless blue skies, it hit me: I kind of am one. Just me, my iron horse, and the open road.
Now I’m in Yuma, Arizona, gearing up to cross into Mexico. My gear’s holding up well, and so’s the bike, but the emotional toll is starting to kick in. I miss my friends and family, but the sunsets and sunrises here make it a little easier. They’re so stunning it’s hard to tell them apart—thankfully, one’s in the east and the other in the west.
This next phase is going to push me even harder, but that’s okay. It’s all worth it. Because while I’m chasing the road ahead, your donations are fueling hope for people who need it most.
Every dollar makes a difference, whether it’s funding materials, keeping the studio’s doors open, or helping someone find a fresh start. So if you’ve been following along and feel inspired, hit that donate button. It’s not just my ride; it’s ours.
Thanks for being part of this journey. The road’s calling, and I’ve got miles to go.
Stay savage, friends.
MotoAgent out.
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