To Your Marks, Get Set...

Scuttlebutt has it that Dad arrived in Fairbanks last night, and he's going to start the first leg of his ride tomorrow. This means heading southeast across Alaska (remember, Alaska is big- real big) into the Yukon. All the way across Yukon into BC, all the way across BC into Dawson Creek.

It reminds me of a Robert Service poem (partly for the place names, partly for the audacity of riding, by himself, thousands of miles). So, Dad, if you're reading this now:

If you're up against a brusier and you're getting knocked about—

Grin.

If you're feeling pretty groggy, and you're licked beyond a doubt—

Grin.

Don't let him see you're funking, let him know with every clout,
Though your face is battered to a pulp, your blooming heart is stout;
Just stand upon your pins until the beggar knocks you out—

And grin.

Good riding, old man.

(stay tuned tomorrow for the first update from the road, we hope)