I want to ride my motorbike

This time of year makes me feel desperate. It didn't use to be so, but that was before I became a motorcyclist. I've been riding since 95, never too far, just into the bordering states, mainly Michigan, Ohio and Illinois. Always the constraints of work and children have kept me close. I've ridden the seven miles to work year round, braving the cold as long as it was going to be above freezing for both the morning and evening commute. It has become so much a part of me that I feel uncomfortable in a closed in vehicle. When I'm forced to drive my Vue I need to open the windows and feel my hair lift to feel alive. I used to love the fall, the smells and sights of autumn but now its the same as the eerie music that provides the foreboding before the really scary stuff starts in a movie. My beloved bike will be trapped in the garage, possibly even entombed if the seal on the door freezes to the concrete floor. I've been known to spend a hour chipping at the seal to free my bike on a warm day in February or March. It amazes me how much of my identity is wrapped up in it. But saying that is misleading, my bike has never been a showpiece. It has always been a riding machine. Each of my 3 bikes have been the same, black, simple without frills or decorations, bravely wearing the scars I've inflicted on them. I've laid the bike down 5 times now, only once while I was moving; always in a parking situation, usually on grass without any real damage being done. I dream of the release of being able to go without having to turn around to be back at work Monday or to be home for my kids. My boys are almost adults now. My oldest just turned 20 and the youngest 18. Technically they are adults, but it doesn't seem as though they're nearly ready for the world yet. I'm in a state of suspended animation, waiting for the ride of my life. The ride I've always wanted to take, clear across the continental US. I've read so many motorcycle travel experiences, but reading is not experiencing. I want to see it all and live it for myself. Part of me wants to make the trip solo, but fear tries to rein me in. I want to see the Pacific Northwest, Crater Lake, Mt. St Helens. I want to ride the California coast and I'm afraid that I'll get too old to make the trip before I allow myself permission to go. I've taken lots of 500 mi. rides, but never day after day of hard riding. I don't have a network of friends strung across the country who would welcome me with open arms and food and conviviality. I would truly be alone and there's always the fear of a woman traveling alone. Yet, I know in my heart that I'll do it, that one day my bike will be packed and waiting for the first day of my ride.