I always get a little tense before I have to ride down to Richmond for work, so today’s ride with my son was exactly what I needed to clear my head. We rolled out of Severn around 10:30 in the morning. The air had that perfect crispness that comes with mid-October, and the trees were just starting to show their colors. I led the ride, setting an easy pace through the backroads while my son followed on his beautiful new Honda Rebel 600, still shining like it just came off the

I didn’t have a grand plan. Just a direction, a tank and a half of gas, and a loose idea of where I might stop if the weather held and my nerves didn’t get the best of me. There were moments I wanted to turn back—cold hands, hungry belly, thoughts racing—but I didn’t. I let the ride happen. One mile, one breath at a time. Turns out, some of the best rides start with no expectations and end with sore muscles, a full stomach, and a clearer head.

There’s a strange tension that builds before a trip—the kind that sits just below the surface. You’ve got the plan. You’ve got the route....