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In what may well be the biggest birthday present ever given, Ange has allowed me to take two weeks to go to Europe... by myself. I've just left the kids and her at security and am overwhelmed by the sense of missing them already. I am sat in the waiting area of YVR. I trust this feeling will subside.

This trip is, perhaps, a little different than some of the other trips I've taken since I wrapped up university. Indeed, it somewhat mirrors that trip I took immediately after university. Back then, Ange and I took an old BMW motorcycle over 25,000 miles around Europe. We had no itinerary, few goals other than "to experience Europe" and certainly no planned route. We took 6 months on the bike, going until the insurance ran out. It was, to be sure, formative. We broke up over the trip (maybe it was the 100 nights of camping?) and yet, I am certain it played a huge part in us getting married too.

This time around, I have two weeks. I am going with my dad, who is getting older and there are signs this sort of irresponsible type of holiday are on a limited time offer. The similarities and differences fill my mind as I anticipate what's to come.

An End Destination. Like last time, there simply isn't one. My dad is a good guy but he's never been one for planning. I could, and might yet, regale with stories that baffle the minds of those who have a basic concept of "foresight".

To give you some idea of of how this trip has been planned, I will share with you the destinations discussed. At first, it was Rome. The idea of driving to Rome on a motorcycle has a real sense of purpose to it. It conjures the images of Italian food and coffee and an incredible sense of history. The poignancy of Rome is probably why it was dropped from our destination goal quickly. Dad is more about doing what other don't. Rome was, likely, too much like every other father and son European motorcycle adventure. So, we set plans for Krakow. A wonderful city, to be sure, but the reality of time constraints and the epic nature of that drive created doubt almost immediately. We stuck to that plan for a while until deciding that 1800 miles each way in two weeks was beyond the comfort level. And so we switched to the south of France. Carcassonne. Nice. Maybe even Barcelona, if the time allowed. Warmth, beaches and a bit of history. Maybe too much warm though? Yes, possibly too warm and, really, for all the roads in Europe, we had visions of something different than long stretches of same-ish French countryside. If not the south of France, dad emailed, maybe Liechtenstein? "Really?" I asked, "Liechtenstein?" "It has the roads," dad explained, "and, besides, I haven't been there since the 1960s." I felt maybe there wasn't much new since the 1960s, but had long ago abandoned any sense of investment in the destination. Liechtenstein it was. Until it wasn't. Munich was next, though only fleetingly so. I'm not sure why either, as it is a great destination. Perhaps it suffers from the same same-ness as Rome?

However, even I wasn't ready for the next suggestion, which would take us to rural Finland. Dad has a friend who has a house in Finland. Sure, it involves a 20 hour ferry ride, but we 'd have a place to stay. For the money we're not going to save (see the cost of ferry rides to Scandinavian countries), I don't know if this one is going to stick either. It's the last one discussed but possibly the most absurd... my only thought is that absurd resonates with dad. I can be fairly certain that if not the first, we'd be among the few father-son pan European motorcycle trips to establish a rural Finish village as the "goal." At this point, it's fair to say, we may be setting off a bit "directionlessly". And it suits me fine. Ange and I had some ideas and, while a bit more refined, there's a beauty and a sense of freedom in the unknown.

A motorcycle. Well, on the surface it's going to seem very similar. Yet, I expect it will be so vastly different. Last time, dad had a hand in the motorcycle choice. Indeed, he picked up the bike for me. "Nothing better than a Beemer for reliability," he informed me on picking it up. After 25,000 miles and countless breakdowns in every country in Western Europe, he confided in me at the end that he was "amazed that you made it back WITH the bike." This time around, I've rented a motorcycle from what seems to be a reputable company. Not only that, but it's modern. Rather than being at the end of its useful life, it's at the beginning. Presumably, it hasn't been stored in a shed for the last 18 months. Presumably the electrics don't require re-wiring on a bi-weekly basis. Presumably the lights, speedometer, indicators, and starter motor all work. I expect not to have to bump start it in the mornings and don't expect a full roll of yellow duct tape is holding bits together on the bike. Mind you, I also won't have overloaded it with camping gear and kit for two... nor will I have a passenger. I expect on this occasion that the bike will contribute much more to fun of the trip from a riding perspective than a "meeting kind, helpful citizens of the local country" kind of way. Not only that, I've rented a Triumph Bonneville (a new one), which will be a near match for my dad's Triumph Thruxton. I think I will feel very cool this time... rather than slightly embarrassed.

And now I sit at the airport. Ready to go. I don't know where exactly I'm going. I only know that I'm going on a motorcycle, along with my father, on a trip that we've talked about for more than two decades. Fulfilling dreams is a lofty business. Happily, expectations are low. Lots of coffees, a few meals and more time with my dad than I've spent with him since I was a kid and he took me motorbiking in the foothills near Calgary...