“The reflection of the rising sun on the handlebars is my alarm. My first cup of tea is miles away from my bed. I dont have a home. I carry my world with me. Boundaries have no meaning for me. I have no time to see the dust clouds in my mirror for the road ahead calls out to me. The wind is my partner. The sun is my compass. I dont stop in the rain, I sing with it. The evening birds match chords with my thump. The neon lights of the city become blurry lines as I enter the encroaching dark of the highway. The earth is my bed, the sky is my roof. I sleep to the music of the gurgling brook. I want no glory. I have no name. I dont have a begining, I dont have an end. I am a BIKENOMAD!”

– written by a fellow Nomad …

BIKENOMADS