Most people carry that one idea on their bucket list—the kind that teases and tears at them in equal measure.

What would an ideal life really look like? And what would it take to actually live it, not just imagine it in passing moments between deadlines and responsibilities?

It’s a constant tug-of-war between the head and the heart. Some embark on that journey. A few even make it there—only to discover an unexpected mix of delight and dread waiting on the other side.

For Samrat Som, that question has followed him for thousands of kilometres.

This is what you wanted. But is this what you really wanted?

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A DIFFERENT LIFE

It's been a thought that has crept up on Samrat Som more often over the last few months. In another life, not too long ago, his days began with a strong espresso and navigating the chock-a-bloc traffic. A routine many know well. Comfortable. Predictable.

But everything changed the moment he decided to listen to the quieter voice within—the one that had been patiently waiting its turn.

These days, sunrises are appreciated in unknown towns. Breakfast brings vivid, unfamiliar flavours, paired with the simple comfort of the day's first caffeine hit. And once his Himalayan motorcycle is loaded with gear, Samrat sets off, ready to absorb whatever surprises the open roads of South America choose to reveal.

The thrill is unmistakable as he recounts his journey to us over the phone. This—exactly this—is what he had imagined when he first laid out his plan months ago. A solo ride. That rare spark of man and machine moving as one, a feeling that's hard to articulate and only truly understood by those who've spent long hours in the saddle.

"My relationship with motorcycles has always been a romantic one—it's not committed," he says with a quiet laugh. "I used to ride on weekends, sometimes even for how it made me look. But this is the longest I've ever been on the road."

THE DREAM RIDE

The idea of a long ride had lived on Samrat's to-do list for years. Its roots trace back decades, resurfacing in 2005 when he stumbled upon a vintage copy of Prisoners of the Sun. Tintin's journey through Peru once again reminded him of the world of the Incas, Machu Picchu, and faraway landscapes that felt almost mythical.

He dreamed of seeing it all firsthand. But life, as it often does, stepped in.

Commitments followed. Responsibilities piled up. And Samrat channelled his energy into building a fulfilling career in design. At Royal Enfield, he went on to start the apparel & accessories business—working closely with riders, shaping products that nudged people out the door and onto their motorcycles.

Yet, the dream never quite left.

Turning 50 felt like a natural pause—a moment to look back and, more importantly, ahead. A ride through South America was planned with a close friend, a motorcycling wizard. But tragedy struck before the plan could take shape, and Samrat lost his friend in an accident.

“Life was simply flying past,” he reflects. “So ringing in my birthday with this ride felt right.”

At Royal Enfield, he had a ringside view of real-life romantics who had chosen the long road. Gordon May, who once rode a 1955 Royal Enfield from its birthplace in Redditch to the Chennai factory. A French rider who dreamt of riding across the frozen Khovsgol Lake in Mongolia. An Australian set on circumnavigating India.

“I had all kinds of questions,” Samrat says. “What pushes someone to do this? Did anybody really care? At some level, my own riding had been pretentious—until I started riding longer. Watching people like Gordon made me curious about what it truly meant to commit.”

AN ADVENTURE BECKONS

The idea stayed with him quietly, waiting. And then, in the middle of the pandemic, Samrat quit his day job.

There were doubts. Delays. Missed timelines. He even missed the chance to start the ride on his birthday. But eventually, on December 11,2023 he set off from Bogotá, Colombia—on a journey that would stretch over three months.

“On the first day, my bank account back home was frozen and my visa for Ecuador hadn’t arrived,” he says. “But I knew it was time.”

None of it mattered once the wheels began turning. This was an adventure stripped of excess—pure, uncertain, and entirely his own. The rush of wind, the texture of the road, and his thoughts for company as mile after mile slipped away beneath the tyres.

Each day ended with a rough idea of the direction he’d head next. Each morning began with anticipation. New roads navigated through Google Maps. New faces greeted with basic Spanish, picked up through Duolingo. And every time he buckled his helmet and thumbed the ignition, there was a reassuring familiarity in knowing—this was exactly what he had signed up for.

MILES TO GO

The road delivered generously.

The route traced a sweeping arc across the continent — from Nazca to Machu Picchu, onward to Lake Titicaca in Bolivia, through the stark Atacama Desert in northern Chile and Argentina, past white horses grazing in Chilean pastures, and finally into the vast, lonely expanse of Patagonia, all the way to the end of the land — Ushuaia, the southernmost town in the world.

The gaps between these destinations were filled with small, deeply human moments. Llamas and alpacas wandered over during roadside breaks. A little lady at a design store in Salta greeted him with a warm, "Tumi kemo nacho," sharing memories of her own past.

A leisurely boat ride down the Amazon carried Samrat and his motorcycle to Iquitos—the largest town in the world without a road connecting it to the outside. Some days were about the sheer joy of opening up the throttle on legendary highways like Route 40. Others ended abruptly on narrow dirt tracks, with no option but to turn back.

Evenings brought comfort in simple forms—a hot meal, a cold beer, and conversations with strangers who felt familiar by nightfall. There was satisfaction in the body's soreness, a quiet reward for the distance covered. Soon enough, he'd drift to sleep, already imagining what the next day might hold.

It was everything Samrat had hoped for when he chose to set it all aside and chase his calling. An endless ride. A journey of discovery—of landscapes, people, and himself.

And yet, the question remains.

"Every now and then, your thoughts oscillate between this is fantastic and why on earth am I doing this?" Samrat says. "Nothing quite prepares you for riding this long. It's about being honest with yourself. About understanding your limits."

Perhaps that's the answer he's been riding toward all along.