It was dark and cold and I'd just had 3 hours of sleep the previous night. Add to that the physical exhaustion I was carrying after non- stop 24 hour duty as a committee chair in our recent international convention. Could you blame me, then, if I had raging questions in my head on why I was here, with 13 other guys, on the long and sometimes poorly pavemented backroads of Southern Luzon, on a 172cc machine, wheeling our way to Bicolandia? To add insult to injury, a storm appeared ready to welcome us as we made our 2-stroke sojourn to the south. Heavy gusts of wind engulfed us as we made our way through the famed "bituka ng manok" on our way through the province of Quezon, resulting in one accident with slight injuries but no real harm done. Arrival in Naga City after a 9 1/2 hour drive left us exhausted, wet, cold, tired, and very hungry. The 350 or more kilometers we had just registered left many of our bikes in sorely need of repairs. Yet, sitting with the group for dinner and looking into each of their faces, I could not help but discern wide, satisfied grins on all, proof that the reward for maximum effort is never material, but ephemeral and intangible, the deep-seated feeling in each one that, yes, I did that, I went through it, and now I'm here. Job well done. As brother Sonny said, before leaving Alabang, God gives us a time for everything. And this is our time for joy.

The rest of trip was a literal blessing from the Almighty. We woke to sunny skies, and dry, clean, pavemented roads. The ride to Legaspi was glorious, a biker's dream. Fast pace, lots of road play, plenty of fun. Many of us claim lessons learned in riding on that day, lessons they would further hone on the trip back home. We saw the volcano, took tons of pictures, ate a great lunch prepared for us by my hospitable relatives, then motored to famed Cagsawa church, there to engage in an orgy of photo opportunities. That night, as we ate, we all agreed that it was a great day to be alive.

The trip home was relatively uneventful. There was some horseplay, as you would expect from guys on fast machines whom God blessed with a sunny day, clear, open, pavemented roads, and lots of give and go. The expereinces of that day will fill many a story-telling session in the days, weeks, even months to come. We left Naga City at 7:30 am. We arrived at Total-Alabang at 7:30 pm. Along the way, we played, laughed, took pictures, raced each other and lived each moment as only young men can. I remember that, with the beginning of the trip, I could feel a tinge of uneasiness in my chest, as if I was nervous or something. I thought it was just ride jitters, yet I was attacking corners and curves with more reckless abandon than I had the previous 2 days, thanks of course to some pretty awesome pacing from the man on the red machine. Yet, as I nearned Manila, I could not help but feel that the uneasiness was growing more intense, the closer I got to home. It was only upon arrival at Total-Alabang that I realized that what I was feeling was not nervousness but sadness. I was getting depressed that the whole adventure would soon be over, that this wonderful group of guys, who had nothing much in common with each other save for a two-wheeled, two-stroke machine but who, in the span of 2 days, had formed a botherhood of friends forged in the pain of long riding and the challenges of the open road, would soon be breaking up and going each his own way. In a matter of speaking, I did not want it to end. But all things, even good things do. But as we hugged and shook each other's hand with vigorous intent upon arrival at our end-point, we all exchanged one promise, that we would never forget each other. A botherhood was born, the brotherhood of the road. We would be bonded by that expereince for life, cemented by the shared memories of joy and achievement that we would always share everytime we would see each other. The adventure ends but the memories will last a lifetime.

That evening, as I lay in bed after a nice, hot shower and cuddled with my wife, I remeber having a hard time falling asleep. The adrenalin had still not gone done. So I ran the last three days through my head, savoring the highlights as if I was there all over again. Sometime, during my recdollections, I remember that, throughout the early part of the trip, I remember a small voice in my head telling me that I was crazy to have gone on this trip. And I remember that, throughout the trip, that small voice still kept on yapping in my head, adding both to the pain and discomfort of the experience. Lying there, I could still sense that small voice in my head, but it was quiet now. And, anyway, it was really just a small voice, easily drowned out by the roar of a PM Tuning tune pipe connected to a 172 cc Malossi block.

The next morning, my wife told me that I fell asleep with a smile on my face.