The Adventures of a former Central Albertan

To my parents, it may have seemed like a rash decision, another hare-brained idea. I'm certain they thought "Just as he seems to be getting his life together, he's throwing it all away again!" Little did they know that that seemingly random phone call, mid-morning on a bright blue and crisp November day, had been the result of years of percolation. One can only guess as to the exact mixture of emotions and thoughts that they experienced at that moment. Only a parent who has had to say goodbye to their child before could estimate what was really going through their hearts and minds at the time. Make no mistake, though, it was abundantly clear: their son was leaving once again. This time though, something was definitely different.

When a person finally makes a life-changing decision, it tends to break a seemingly endless chain of procrastination, self-doubt, stubbornness and bad habits. Most people that hear of the new revelation though are often skeptical, squeezing out a "Good for you", or "That's great", but silently thinking "Yeah, right. Nothing's going to come of this", or "This is going to end up like the last time." This might be the case for the partner of a pack-a-day smoker that has 'quit' for the umpteenth time. For all the excuses of a failed New Year's Resolution, a diet plan gone awry, or always finding yourself doing that despicable bad habit again, there is often a new and hardened resolve to 'do it better next time'.

For me, I had always had big dreams, and big ideas about making a difference in the world, and being a leader. At 37 years of age, however, the only difference I had made was to alienate most of my friends and family by complaining how bad a state the world was in, and blaming them for it behind their backs. Unbeknownst to me, life was slowly setting itself up for a change. A cushy, comfortable, 8 to 4 job with benefits came as a result of years of slaving away at self-employment, and a bit of money was slowly growing in the bank. I had been attending a rigorous self-help seminar for about 6 weeks, so there was a lot of talk of breaking habits and trying new things in my life at the time.


The seminar was held on Monday nights from 7 pm until 10 pm, for about 3 months. An integral part of the exercise included the formation of a group, which we collectively decided to meet every Thursday. The group was designed to keep everybody working and motivated towards the goals and achievements each individual had for themselves, and to discuss some of the topics brought up in the Monday night session. On Thursday, November 19th, 2009 I had mentioned to my group the difficulty I had had to that point meeting the ‘woman of my dreams’ and wondered aloud how I might ‘get her’. Amidst varying degrees of contempt, my group members gently offered some advice on how to do that. Our group leader, Mark, suggested I take on a personal challenge. “Jason, date yourself for 30 full days. Treat yourself like you would a date that you really, really like for 30 days. After that, you will have women all over you.” The theory behind this, he explained, was that after this exercise in self-love, a person would be so independent emotionally that others would sense it, and be attracted to it. The meeting was just over an hour long, and the group selflessly focused on me for much of that time.


Buoyed by a rather infectious bout of self-importance and hope for the future, I found myself bouncing out of the elevator of Mark’s hi-rise condo. Despite my drunken sense I realized upon exiting the building that I was directly across the street from a building that I had known several residents. One particular individual by the name of Douglas Arthurs occupied the suite on the side of the building directly across the street from me, and as it was a building of over a hundred years in age, possessed a large picture window looking into Douglas’s kitchen. It seems builders from a century ago were not concerned about overzealous city dwellers peering directly into one’s home. Usually, a fear of a negative social encounters had stopped me from reconnecting with casual acquaintances. Only the most outwardly friendly and loving people could break through my insistent feeling of not being good enough. On this occasion though, I was so high on life I broke through the ‘analysis paralysis’ of social interaction and knocked on said window. I did not receive any type of response from within, but decided to persist, as I noticed a light on in the hallway, and shadows dancing on the wall. Again, I knocked even louder. This time: success. I could see Douglas walk out into the dark kitchen with a white towel barely wrapped around him, and then peer out of the window. He saw me, and it was clear he did not recognize me right away. I do not recall how long it took for his recognition, but he motioned for me to come through the side door, of which he came out to open. “Hey, buddy” I exclaimed “I was just across the street at a meeting, and just decided to say hi. You remember me?"

Within moments I was inside and exchanging pleasantries, catching up. Douglas, a working actor, had always been an inspiration to me. He was able to take exotic vacations for months at a time, and still have enough money from his work to put food on the table and a roof over his head. It was lucky I had caught him when I did, as he was to be disembarking for Brazil within 3 weeks at the time. Casually mentioning my dreams of riding a motorcycle to Rio de Janeiro, Brazil was only meant to carry on the conversation. Douglas quickly responded with "Well, if you're going to go, you've got to take 6 months at least!" That was the first moment I recall realizing a dream could actually become a possibility.


It didn't even seem to matter that my Yamaha V-Star 650 motorcycle was in the shop with an indeterminable illness. It didn't even matter that I had only been riding a motorcycle for just over a year, or even had a motorcycle driving license for 14 months. Anything was possible now, and even though I had no idea how it was going to happen, the mere thought of it sent shivers down my spine. You see, little hints had been popping up around me for sometime by then, little things that caught my attention for just long enough to make an impact. One particular moment was a stroll through Chapter's book store, where Ted Simon's book caught my eye simply based on the cover illustration. It turned out to be a story of a man who dropped everything, and rode his motorcycle over 50,000 miles and 4 years around the globe. The moment that sealed the deal was a close friend who had been visiting me at work one Saturday morning. A casual conversation was soon interrupted by my declaration, seemingly out of the blue. "I'm riding my motorcycle from Vancouver to Rio de Janeiro on August 28th." The look of pure and unbridled inspiration shone from his face, and I suddenly knew I was doing the right thing.


Within an hour I was on the phone to my parents sharing with them my plans. I knew it was going to be hard for them, but I wanted them to be the first to know. The questions came, and went. "How was I expecting to make money?" "Would I get my job back when I returned?" The hardest question to answer was "Why?" Eventually I answered calmly and confidently, "I will be quitting my job, selling everything, and making a brand new start. It is time for a change." Deciding to tell my parents first was unknowingly the step that made the plan firm. Whether the trip was to be a success, or not, at least I had the courage to share my plans with two people I knew would rather have me make a much safer life decision.