Derogatory Movement

Somehow I feel like something was lost in translation here! Now, I have had derogatory comments made about my dance moves in the past but surely it is a little harsh to equate my gyrations on a dance floor to riding a motorcycle through the French countryside.

This was a document I needed to travel in France and allowed me on the roads to make the ride from the medieval village of Die on the river Drôme to Grenoble. With France on lockdown I was very aware that any movement was counterproductive to the containment of the virus so I mapped out a backroads route across the high Alps from Die to Grenoble. My good friends Alan and Fay Barrow had offered to host me for the duration of the lockdown as they had just got back the night before from New Zealand and would also be in quarantine.
With the concern that the US might at any time close its borders to everyone, including returning residents, I decided to see if it was possible to get a flight out of Geneva directly back to New York. In no time at all I was on nearly empty flights back to Denver. With everyone staying well clear of each other and not a lot of talking going on travel had suddenly become a very lonely endeavor.

From thinking I was in France for a long time I awoke Saturday morning in my Rocky Mountain cabin in a winter wonderland after the recent heavy snowfall. Two weeks of self quarantine is not going to be a hardship here especially as my wonderful family and friends have stocked me with groceries and beer and one very thoughtful, special lady even had the forethought to make sure I had a full 1/2 gal of gin.

Who knows what the future holds with this virus and how travel is going to look in the future but with Moto Naranja waiting patiently in a shed in France how can I not go back and carry on with the Silk Road adventure?