I checked very connection, every bolt, every cable, but I just wasn’t ready to push the start button. I lit up a cigarette and stared at the bike for the longest time. It was 45 days since the last time I road this bike, and 44 days that I was stuck in the village of Otamendi in Argentina. The whole world went above and beyond to get a new engine to me down here, so it felt surreal to be only a push of a thumb away from freedom. That’s how prisoners must feel I suppose.

When the engine got here, I immediately got to work and retracted a million drywall screws out of the crate to free the engine. It was so well packed (thanks to Jared’s hard work) that the airliner could have just air dropped it at the farm, and it would have survived. By the time I got the engine out it started to rain, and it didn’t stop for the next two days. But I could care less if concrete blocks came down from the sky let alone a little water. It was like Christmas. There was a complete motor, lots of shiny new parts from Z1 Enterprises, and a replacement final drive to swap out the battered leaky unit. With the help of Juan (my very helpful neighbor at the farm) we pushed and shoved the entire block on the frame, and fastened it tight.

For the next two days I scavenged everything I could from the old motor that was in a better shape, and installed it on the new motor. I swapped the drive shaft, final drive, stator cover, ignition cover, bolts and even the oil pan with all new seals and gaskets, and proceeded to time the engine, adjust the valves, replace the air filter, and installed new plug wires on the coils. Then I fired up the soldering iron and soldered every connection. It looked greasy and dirty, but beautiful.

It was time. I poured a gallon of fresh gas in the tank, filled up the crankcase, final drive and transmission with oil, flipped the petcock to prime and pulled the choke. Finally I pushed the start button. The motor turned a few times and it roared to life. My eyes were wet and I couldn’t believe that I was free at last. Hearing the perfect sound of the new machine was like a lullaby, and I listened to it like a good song. The job was done. I turned off the engine and fell asleep as the skies outside poured their hearts out with rain.

I woke up the next day to take out my baby for a ride. As I pulled out of the driveway the front tire slipped on the mud and I went down. I was baffled. A deep slippery mud covered the driveway, and I hit the ground no more than twenty feet from my room. I picked up the bike and mounted again. Mud or no mud, I was going out for a ride. The road from the farm to Otamendi is 3km long, and the rains turned the soft-dirt road to chocolate pudding with standing water in every pothole. In the first 500 feet I fell three times and I finally gave up. The tires were covered with sticky mud to the point that the front fender was scarping on the mud. With much difficulty, I picked up the bike for the last time, slipping and sliding in the process, and headed back to the farm defeated.

There was nothing I could do but to wait for the sun to dry up the road. I had better luck the next day and I finally hit the tarmac with no fall. I took the bike straight to a carwash and for six dollars; two guys washed the bike for 45 minutes. (I needed it clean so I could spot oil leaks.) Then I went out for a 100 miles test run. It ran great, and to my delight, there was no oil leak, except a little sip from the clutch shaft seal which wasn’t a big deal. (I’ll replace it in Buenos Aires). I checked the spark plugs, and they were all black and whitish with no excessive carbon, no caked white stuff, and no oil. She was ready to roll. I took my time to organize my stuff, fix little things here and there, and wash my cloths before getting back on the road. I said my goodbyes to Tati and his family in Mar del Plata, and threw a thank you BBQ party for Juan’s family which helped me immensely during my stay at the farm.

I’m leaving tomorrow morning for Buenos Aires. The route is set to go north for Uruguay, Brazil, Paraguay, Bolivia, and in western Peru load the bike on a dinghy and float the whole length of the Amazon River to the Atlantic Ocean. From there finishing up Venezuela, Surinam, New Guinea… and finally jump the big pond for Africa.

I can never thank those who helped me get back on the road enough. My gratitude goes to Jorge (Tati) Zmud for putting me up in his mom’s house and his place for 48 days free of charge, and for showing such generosity and hospitality to a complete stranger. I made a friend for life. I also like to thank Juan de Martin and his family for feeding me countless home cooked meals and the much needed help with fixing the bike.

I’m indebted to the GSR community for all their troubles as they literally put together a complete motorcycle in one month, and shipped it down here. It’s inspiring to know that I have so many brothers that I’ve never met, but with a single line, they come to my aid at the time of need. I’m honored and humbled to be a part of this great fraternity for I know that they are as selfless as they come.

I’m also indebted to Z1 Enterprises for sponsoring this expedition and delivering the much needed parts with such short notice. Jeff Saunders went above and beyond the call of duty to order everything he didn’t have in stock from Suzuki, and ship them to Jared for the engine makeover. They are great folks who know our bikes inside out, and serve us with care.

I would be remiss not to thank Matt Hanscom for donating the engine, Cliff Saunders for donating the final drive, Sean Pringle for his magnanimous donation which covered the biggest portion of the shipping cost, and those who covered the rest: Jared Williams, Gregory Quinn, Gib Acuna, Barron Fujimoto, Lynn Minthorne, James south, Tom Kent, Joshua Russo, Brandon turner, Robert Hayward, Eric bang, Merrill Oates, Richard Stiver, Dale Dunn, Howard Fairfield, and Daniel Provencher. Forgive me if I’m missing any names here, I don’t have the updated list.

And last but not least, I’d like to thank Jared Williams for his diligent and attentive service to this organization. Time and time again, he has proved to be a blessing, and he continues to impress us all.

Thank you guys for everything. Stay tuned as I hash through the Amazon jungles.

As you read previously, my motorcycle broke down in Patagonia after wrestling for two days with mighty winds, and I had to send it to the next town so I could start the diagnosis. Well the diagnosis is in. I took the engine apart and my suspicions were right on the money. I had three pistons with holes on top. To make it worse, debris from the detonations splattered all over the inside of the engine, and destroyed the rod bearings. Mar del Plata, Argentina was the end of this motor.

Although all the parts could be found either in US or Europe, there were virtually no parts available in Argentina for this bike. As I always do, I turned to my abundant faithful Suzuki followers on the GSR and in no time, Matt Hanscom, one of the GSR members generously donated a complete motor out of his own bike, and the rest of the guys gathered up the bits and pieces for the swap. Z1 Enterprise kicked in with all new gaskets and necessary parts to make the replacement engine as reliable as new, and as we speak, there are a few guys working on the engine to get it into shape. The big problem is shipping the motor down south, and although many has pledged donations or already contributed towards the shipping cost, it’s still not clear which route we should take to get it down here economically and quickly.

I’m eager to thank everyone who has helped with this dilemma, either financially or by moral support, but I don’t have the complete list of names here so I won’t mention any until I do. Thank you for all you’re doing and thank you for the encouraging comments and emails, they do make me feel that I’m not alone. In the mean time while I’m waiting for the engine to get here, here’s the aftermath story:

Tati and Facundo took me to the bus station and made sure that the driver knew where to drop me off. I was supposed to get off the bus 40km before Mar del Plata at the Otamendi Junction, and the guys would pick me up to take me to Tati’s farm in Otamendi. He even wrote on a piece of paper for me: I need to get off in Otamendi, in Spanish just in case the driver forgot.

The bus ride was only 400km long and I figured it would take no more than 6 hours, but I guess the Argentine buses are like Greyhounds; it stopped a million times to pick up passengers along the way. I was dead tired and I slept pretty much the whole time. Tati was supposed to call me at 6pm to see where I was to pick me up so I kept the phone on for his call. Around 6 pm the phone rang, and it was Cynthia who hadn’t heard from me in a few days and had no idea yet about the motorcycle motor. I told her that the bike motor blew up, and that I was on a bus and asked her not to call me as I was waiting for a phone call (the phone battery was almost dead) and hung up. She took it as I was blowing her off, and called again. It took 6 more phone calls and precious battery life to literally beg her not to call, and by that time the phone died for good.

At dusk, after 8 hours I got dropped off at Otamendi road, a long country road with nothing in sight with no phone or even knowing where I should go. The clouds started coming in and a light drizzle started as I waited over hour and half at the side of the road for a phone call that I couldn’t answer. I tried turning the phone back on and it started ringing immediately. It was Tati and all I said was that “I’m here,” and it cut off again. As I was preparing myself for a bivouac for the night, I saw a dim motorcycle light approaching me, and that was the Calvary.

Facundo took me to the farm where we had a reunion. Four other guys with their bikes were there and along with a German woman who the guys had seen riding her Suzuki DR400 heading for Buenos Aires and invited her too. The giant grill at Tati’s farm was in full operation with chickens and chorizos roasting away, and the endless flow of wine took my mind off the pickle of a situation I was in, at least for the night. We would go to Mar del Plata after the holiday to see about the bike.

The next day Tati took me to his mom’s house where I could stay. Fortunately they had the much needed internet and I started the search for the parts. Not knowing what was wrong with the bike yet, all I could do was to wait. Finally the holiday was over and we picked up the bike and rented a truck to take it back to the farm. Loading and unloading this beast on back of a pickup truck is not easy as we had no ramps and with the bike not running, even if we had ramps it would be a nightmare. When we got to Otamendi, there were only three of us so we opted for a solution. Tati ran into town and picked up couple of drunk guys from a local bar to help out for $2 each. With five us, we picked up the bike and lowered it to the ground.

I immediately started to dismantle the engine and the further I inspected the worse it looked. Three pistons out of four had dime size holes on top and with further inspection, it turned out that the rod bearings were shot from the debris of the blown up pistons. The engine was beyond repair. It was repairable if I had the parts, a clean place to work, tools and access to a machine shop, but I had none of that. I reported my findings and dismay on the GSR (the Suzuki forum) and went to bed.

When I woke up in the morning, the guys at GSR were already on top of it and were making things happen. Matt Hanscom, a member and a friend, donated a complete engine out of his own bike, Z1 Enterprise, our parts sponsor pitched in with all new parts to make the new engine road worthy, another member donated a complete final drive, and Jared Williams, our public relation director (also a GSR member) lead the whole orchestra.

Despite Christmas closing in and family responsibilities, Jared went out of his way and picked up the engine in Maine, then disassembled the whole thing in his kitchen to fix it up. More GSR guys pitched in and they had a wrenching party at Jared’s house to finish the work. In the meanwhile, many members donated money for the shipping cost, and all I had to do was to stay put. And put I stayed. I stayed at the farm. Alone.

I read the two books I had with me twice, watched every movie I had on my computer, wrote blogs, edited videos and even tried to compose music on my computer, but there was nothing that could cure my boredom. I spent the Christmas alone and the New Year. My only transportation was a lousy ancient bicycle that went flat every day, and heading to the town of Otamendi became my only getaway. I would go to an internet cafe to catch up on the shipping process despite the ungodly slow connection, and busied myself shopping for food. Cynthia served as my only contact many days with the outside world, as even my parents couldn’t get a hold of me.

My only pastime became killing flies at the farm as with a pig farm next door, there was never a shortage of flies in my room. Sometimes there were a few hundred files hanging upside down from the ceiling, and one movement from me sent them buzzing all over the place. The first few days I bought bug sprays to kill them, but it got expensive quickly. Then I learned to spray a few shots, and close the door for a few minutes. It wouldn’t kill them but made them a much easier target for my rolled up newspaper.

With flies came spiders too. All my life I liked spiders or at least I left them alone until this farm. One night as I was watching a movie, I felt something walking up on my foot, and as I looked down, I threw the computer to the side, and jumped up a few feet in the air. I could hear my heartbeat in my head, and I was frozen. The giant tarantula-looking hairy spider was more afraid of me as I was afraid of him, but that didn’t matter. As I hit him on the head with a flip flop and thought that it was over, an even bigger one came out from under the bed, and headed right at me. This time I ran out of the room and headed straight for the town. I came back armed with bug sprays and sprayed the whole room until I was about to pass out myself. I never found the body of the second one, but I’m officially staying out of like with spiders.

Days went by and the shipping situation became a problem. Courier services like UPS and FedEx were way out of our price range, and our only hope was airfreight. After a long search (not me, I only take credit for staying put) the rescue team finally figured out a way to send the motor down here. Jared meticulously packed up all the stuff and built a crate for it and was on his way out to send it off when the worst winter storm of the decade hit the northeastern United States. With snow piled up everywhere, over 7000 flights were canceled, and I had to stay put even longer. A few days later, finally the engine went out of Boston, MA and it’s en route to Buenos Aires as we speak.

I’m deeply indebted to all of you who gave moral backing, hands on assistance and financial support to rescue my ass from Argentina. I don’t even know how to repay you, but I want you to know that I’m blessed and grateful to have friends and supporters like you. Thank you, thank you and a million times more: thank you.

Hello friends! Our latest blog post comes to us courtesy of our organization’s Public Relations Director, Jared Williams. We are inspired by his recent trip to Haiti and his work there and hope you will be too.        -Chris Sorbi

It’s been a week now since I returned home from an 8 day missionary trip to Haiti. What I saw in that time has clearly changed me and helped me to grow and coming home has been surprisingly hard. I long to be back in Haiti where I can see myself helping people directly and can see the faces of those receiving my gifts. However as I contemplate my trip and my contribution, I have wondered if that is truly the case, would I really help those in need more in Haiti or more back home?

I do not have that answer and perhaps it is not one answer for my entire life, but I will try to share with you some of what I experienced in Haiti. Each aspect perhaps reflects a lot on who I am and my personal story. For you to really fully understand the situation in Haiti and how it reflects on you and your life can not be done through my pictures, my videos or my stories. It would only happen with taking a trip to Haiti yourself and experiencing it in person.

My fulltime job involves large-scale planning and tracking for road and bridge projects for a 3 billion dollar 8 year program. I am used to looking at single projects and seeing how that interacts with hundreds of other projects working together as part of one large infrastructure program. My mind has been trained for years to break down huge construction projects to smaller and smaller pieces until they are manageable work activities then link them back together in a sequence and order to calculate how long it will take with a given effort to get to the eventual completion of the project. A simplification would be to say the greater the effort the less time it takes, and the smaller the effort the longer it takes.

While many on the trip saw the volume of destruction as insurmountable, I saw work activities that needed to be done. After temporary shelters, the road and transportation infrastructure immediately stood out as the first area needing focus in Haiti. This would help with the physical rebuilding of homes and businesses, but also aide the eventual economic rebuilding required to one day lift the country out of the immense poverty it is in. Unfortunately, throughout my stay I saw very little progress with a few curbs being made with hand-mixed mortar and stone and a stretch of roadway being placed with the only concrete mixer I saw, all ¼ yards of it. I even saw a single backhoe and loader along with a handful of dump trucks. The scale of reconstruction ahead of Haiti demands fleets of vehicles, massive transfer stations to break down the rubble into reusable aggregate, concrete mix plants and so much more that just isn’t present or available. Needless to say it was easy to see no end in sight for the cleanup let alone reconstruction with the current effort on the ground six months after the earthquake.

Once we got to the work sites, my trade experience as a carpenter kicked back in, and I felt good to be actively helping the people around me in a physical way. I got to meet the 26 children in Leogon using the orphanage we were putting walls up on; I got to see the 400 children in Laquil using the school that had no roof when we came benefit from finishing the roof over them, I got to see the 200 children in Foe Shea who would benefit from our trenching and wall building to keep their school above the flood level during the rainy season. It might be a postage stamp effort in a country that needs so much, but I could finally dig in and do work that was helping those in need.

Everyone we met in these villages was so thankful for us and our help but working alongside some Haitian workers I felt a sense of selfishness as what I spent to come to Haiti could pay for a crew of them to work for a month, helping both the schools in need and the workers and their families. This feeling was short-lived as they were so receptive and thankful, even the concrete crew I helped would say, “Merci Jared” after each pail of mortar I mixed and shoveled for them. The resounding message they all told me was simple, to not forget them and to share their story. They did not see me as taking their work but helping them as an equal and a brother that could take their story home to all of you reading this.

Now what touched me the most during my trip relates to my role as a father of three wonderful children. I saw so much faith and hope in these kids. They grew up in these surroundings and even with losing the little they had with the earthquake they retained a bright outlook on life when the rest of the world sees little to no hope for them. The faith they had reminded me of a Bible verse that has stuck with me for a while but came to new life in Haiti. In Mathew 18:1-6 it reads:

“1 At that time the disciples came to Jesus and asked, “Who is the greatest in the kingdom of heaven?” 2 He called a little child and had him stand among them. 3 And he said: “I tell you the truth, unless you change and become like little children, you will never enter the kingdom of heaven. 4 Therefore, whoever humbles himself like this child is the greatest in the kingdom of heaven. 5 “And whoever welcomes a little child like this in my name welcomes me. 6 But if anyone causes one of these little ones who believe in me to sin, it would be better for him to have a large millstone hung around his neck and to be drowned in the depths of the sea.”

We can learn a lot from these children and I saw the schools MissionE4 run as a direct and real tool being used in God’s name to support and further the faith these children have for their future. My personal sponsorship of Falonne is not just helping to feed, educate, and clothe her but is helping her to remain a child just a bit longer. This little gift by my standards is everything to her and directly helps her maintain that humility and faith through giving her a chance at a future in a country with so little.

As I was in Haiti and even coming home, I have struggled with how I can help best: is it being in Haiti and doing work on the ground, is it “sacrificing” a few luxuries I really don’t need to give a onetime gift towards rebuilding homes, or is it making a longer commitment to one of the many children still in need of a $30 a month sponsor? So as I ponder how best can I help my brothers and sisters in Haiti, I simply ask you to consider the same question. Do not let guilt guide you but only give what and how you are comfortable with. Is it a commitment to come on a future trip, or to give a onetime donation to the rebuilding effort, or to sponsor a child, or maybe all of the above?

Now in closing I ask you to consider the many options of who to donate to and where the money goes when you donate. While millions of donations are filtering through the government and other large aid groups its use and impact is hard to see on the ground right now. I pray it will be seen and real change will come but as I pray for that, I see smaller groups like MissionE4 as a direct and immediate channel to help the people in the most need. My reason for choosing to continue supporting MissionE4 is that they were in Haiti helping before the earthquake, they have the people and infrastructure on the ground to immediately put your dollars to work now, and when the rebuilding is complete, the sponsorship program ensures they will be funded to continue helping long into the future. I urge you all to consider the options, pray about it, and give cheerfully where and how you feel God will best use the gifts he has bestowed upon you to share with those in need.

Information on going on a future trip to Haiti: http://www.missione4.com/expeditions.htm
General information and rebuilding donations: http://www.missione4.com/index.html
Child Sponsorship information: http://www.missione4.com/sponsorachild.htm
As a volunteer for the child sponsorship program you can also contact me directly at JaredNWilliams@gmail.com with questions or information on children looking for sponsors.

As great as it is to follow Chris and his ride around the world, I often find myself looking for ways to help the cause without committing years of my life to a journey such as his. The first step is education, but once people realize how huge the issue is, they all too often get discouraged and do nothing, thinking the problem is beyond us. That is not the case at all, and my weekend is proof of that.

In July I am going on a missionary trip to Haiti to help MissionE4 rebuild some schools destroyed during the Earthquake. Part of our groups training for the trip is some teambuilding events and one of them was a “homeless night” where we got together at the Church on Friday and spent the night outside with nothing but the clothes on our backs and a stack of card board boxes to fashion up some shelters with.

This exercise really only touched on the experience but it was done in conjunction with the youth group and served as a great lesson for them as well. My son took part in this event with me and was part of the continued exercise the following day known as the 30 hour famine. Like the homeless night it is designed to give youth a glimpse of what it is like to not have a basic need met and feel even just for a day what other children around the world are feeling day after day.

They reviewed humbling statistics and really had their eyes opened up. Along with the lessons learned, it was a fund raiser to help hungry children around the world through World Vision. I myself was taught a humbling lesson as well when I learned just one of the girls taking part of this event raised a bit over $2,700 for the 30 hour famine through pledges from friends and family. If one 14 year old can do that, surely I can do more.

On Sunday was the walk for hunger in Boston. I put a team together for this last year with the youth group at my previous Church and wanted to continue my support this year. Unfortunately my new church could not participate as they were having a big fundraiser the same day for our Haiti missionary trip so I got a team together of friends and family. The walk for hunger has been going on for over 40 years in Boston and helps fund Project Bread, a non-profit organization that helps fund food programs locally in Massachusetts for hungry families and kids. The walk was 20 miles through Boston on a very hot and sunny day amidst a water shortage due to a broken water main affecting over 2 million residents. Luckily the water stations where supplied with clean spring water and eventually we made it the full 20 miles of the walk with the kids making it a solid 5 miles. In total the event drew 42,000 walkers and raised 3.8 million dollars to help fund Project Bread. Our teams donations may not have been as much as I wanted but it felt great being among so many others just trying to do their part and then seeing how much money was raised between everyone together.

You may read these blogs and agree that something must be done but doubt what you can do as an individual. It will take a lot to change the world, but every little bit helps and collectively we can make a difference. You do not have to dedicate years of your life to ride a motorcycle around the world to help, join me in showing my support through acting locally and giving globally.

Jared Williams, PR Director

Please note: the THC organization website has moved to its own domain and this blog is a collection bin of my own ideas, writings and motorcycle ride reports and doesn’t reflect on official organizational matters. Once the construction of the website is complete, these pages won’t be available on this website any longer.

All great explorers had one thing in mind: to get where no one else has been. And all had one thing in common: to be the first person to do so. When I was old enough to read, I realized to my dismay, that there was not even a single empty spot left on the map.

All countries had been found, both poles had been reached, the highest peaks climbed, and to compound the insult, Armstrong had already walked on the moon! To an ambitious first grader, that was quite a blow. I made a promise to myself to one day explore and discover something new.

Although with time I climbed big mountains, traveled much and saw more, my true discovery came in the form of a dawning comprehension of the struggles that go on every day on every corner of this planet: in particular, the travesty of extreme poverty and malnutrition.

With a desire to make a difference, I sold my worldly possessions and on August 2009, embarked on an around-the-globe journey on my motorcycle. By its end, this expedition will cover over 200 countries, 120° of latitude, 24 time zones, and 6 continents in order to raise awareness and funds for the number one cause of death in the world: hunger.

This journey evolved beyond the scope of my one-man band, and eventually I founded and incorporated the Transcontinental Humanitarian Corp., a non-profit 501(C)(3) organization to bring together those with a similar passion and desire to give a helping hand to ordinary people during times of extraordinary tribulation.

Imagine all the money spent on nuclear weapons and meaningless wars each year, all the embargoes and sanctions imposed upon innocent people – trillions of dollars. If we spent that money feeding, clothing and educating the poor of the world, not one soul excluded, it would pay for itself many times over. We could explore our globe together, forever in peace.       -O. Christopher Sorbi, Founder

Transcontinental Humanitarian Corp. Board of Directors

Kyle Ford, President

Born and raised in Helena, Montana, Kyle Ford is a graduate of the University of Montana with a degree in Psychology who currently resides in his native hometown. Kyle is a astute researcher and an ardent social justice activist whose keenness and devotion to our undertaking has proven to be invaluable. As the sous-chef de cuisine at Mediterranean Grill, he is able to cultivate one of his many passions: food.

Jared Williams,  Vice President and Public Relation Director

Jared Williams is a graduate of the University of Maine with a Bachelors of Science degree in Construction Management and works and resides in Massachusetts.  With three children of his own, Jared’s passion for wanting to make a difference stems from wishing all children, regardless of where they are born and live, are given the basic food and supplies needed to grow up and have a chance at life.  Along with helping globally with these efforts,  Jared has worked locally through delivering bread to local homeless shelters and fundraising for various local food-based charities.

Andrew Pogany, Chief Finacial Officer

Andrew Pogany was born in Austria to a Hungarian family. Andy moved to United States in 1967 when he was just seven and spent 22 years in United States Army and is a decorated retired Major. He holds a Bachelor of Science degree in Finance and Master’s degree in business administration so it was a no brainer to elect him as our chief financial officer. Andy has two daughters and resides with his wife on the beautiful California coast.

Non-Director Officers

Lourdes Cacace, Latin America Representative

Born into an Italian family and raised in Asunción, Paraguay, Lourdes Speaks Italian, Spanish and English. Educated in Law at Universidad Nacional de Asunción, she joined our organization to fulfill her passion for tackling social issues in Latin America. She is responsible for translation, correspondent, and solving legal issues south of the borders

Transcontinental Humanitarian Corp.
P O BOX 7603
Helena, MT 59604
(406) 992-0032
Email: info@motorcyclememoir.com

ORGANIZING DOCUMENTS

You can access our public information such as our organizing documents and policies through the following links on this website. All other related documents shall be available for public review upon request.

Articles of Incorporation ~ Bylaws ~ Conflict of Interest ~ Employee Identification Number ~ Application for Exemption 

Photo on front page and above are courtesy of  Cynthia Quispe