As a child, I spent countless hours looking through a scrapbook of pictures, brochures, ticket stubs and postcards that my parents loosely stuffed into its pages.
Before I was a twinkle in their eyes, mom & dad spent a few months like vagabonds touring the country in my mom’s 68 Firebird. I poured over pictures of them sharing coffee over a campfire, my dad laughing as he shaved in a roadside rest stop, my gorgeous mom in her hip huggers standing in the roadway with a wild Burro. It was all so glamorous to me, so full of life and adventure.
It felt like coming full circle for me when I passed a sign in Wyoming that I had seen in one of my parents’ travel photos. I doubled back to take one of my own.
I don’t know what the sign meant to my childish mind or why I would have even remembered it out of all those pages and pictures, but time had embedded it into my subconscious. Was it the name of the town, Emblem? Was it the idea that only 10 people lived there? I can’t know. But what I do know is that it was somehow placed on my life’s To-Do list without me even realizing it.
I certainly feel like my wanderlust and love of motorcycles were passed down into the marrow of my bones from mom & dad. Maybe someday my little girl will travel over the miles that brought me joy and find happiness there, too