Riding dirt bikes solo in remote areas is not conducive to safety. The two most basic rules of safety are: don’t go out alone, and always tell someone your itinerary. But most of the time, Rex Taylor rode alone. That greatly increased the danger, but simplified his logistics. And it was just not possible to tell anyone his plans, because he rarely had more than a general idea himself, of his route or destination. The risks were worth the thrill of riding a high-powered machine, across landscapes of unsurpassed natural beauty, in total isolation. He could rely on nothing but pluck, and a lot of luck. And his luck held, to an unlikely degree. A flat tire, a broken bike part, a broken body part, or running out of gas could have meant disaster, or death. But he tried not to think about that too much.
Over two and a half decades of riding, many thousands of miles, and hundreds of hours in the saddle, Mr. Taylor experienced a few light traumas, a lot of intense dramas, some ridiculous situations, and the most ultimate sense of freedom and joy possible. He kept meticulous journals of his exploits. At times cynical and ironic, but always sincere, Riding the Line is the result: his own vivid chronicle, of seeking and finding, riding his dirt bike on the fine line that divides adventure from misadventure, life from death. Somehow, he managed to get himself back home every single time, except for one unhappy day in Happy Canyon, when his big sister graciously drove 120 miles with a trailer to rescue him from exposure….