The moment before Jim Cole headed out for his return run, he and his wife Jody shared a pause.

“I either won the costume contest… or there is no costume contest,” I thought as I sped down the start straight at Glen Helen Raceway, the heavy skirt of my Oktoberfest Beer Maid costume flapping in the wind. Of the several hundred riders in attendance at the annual Octobercross REM race, I was the only one dressed up.

“It’s happening.”

The moment my tires rolled off the tarmac and onto the dirt, the reality struck me. Fifteen years of wanting, waiting and dreaming had come to an end. I finally made it to Iceland, and was going to experience it the only way I ever imagined: from the seat of a motorcycle.