Real Life Stories

In anticipation of Max beginning to crawl, Jana and I spent a considerable amount of effort babyproofing our Chicago apartment. This involved converting our 100% wood floor apartment into pockets of cushioned wriggle space using padded floor coverings, plush rugs, even thick leg warmers for Max to protect his knees, ensuring that his transition from sedentary to mobile would be a comfortable one.

It's only fitting that Max took his very first crawl steps yesterday on granite-hard terra cotta tiles at our Tuscan vacation home.

I'd been there before. The names and faces were different, of course, but the late-night, hotel bar scene is always the same. Young and old professionals, their faces tired from work and travel, cradled their drinks in a big city airport hotel after a day of meetings and conferences.

SUNDAY, JUNE 12 – Were it not for death stares from fellow passengers, ear-piercing cries during descent, and diaper changes punctuated by turbulence (the most daring Mile High Club, to be sure), flying overseas with a baby would be completely stress-free.

As a new dad with a three-month old son exhibiting signs of colic, I was struggling to cling to what was left of the spirit of spontaneity and adventure I had embraced in my twenties and thirties. Then, on a normal day in December while my wife was out grocery shopping with our baby, I bought airline tickets - nonrefundable - for my wife, my baby, and me to travel through Europe this summer.

For a month.

What's more liberating than taking to the open road on a souped up Harley? For the Harlistas, nothing.

A Harlista, a term coined half a century ago, is a Latin American Harley-Davidson rider. Not just a nickname, but a mentality, being a Harlista is about living fearlessly, overcoming obstacles and experiencing the camaraderie of the road.