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On Thanksgiving Day 2010, while most of us were enjoying our turkey and stuffing, Ben Glattstein set off on a mission to cross the Pacific Ocean solo in a small single-engine airplane. It was a mission he wouldn’t complete. Shortly after takeoff a load shift caused his plane to spiral out of control and Ben lost his life.

As sad as Ben’s passing was, the outpouring of emotion and support was inspiring. You see, Ben was a larger-than-life character in a small world, a young Australian aviator who lived his life to the fullest. We met at Embry Riddle Aeronautical University in Daytona Beach, Florida, where I soon learned he was the adventurous type who’d do anything for you, the kind of guy you couldn’t help but like from the first meeting.

In his all-too-short life, Ben travelled the world over, flying floatplanes in Northern Canada, crossing the Atlantic in a small plane, being stranded in Jordan, and riding a scooter across Vietnam and Thailand. Ben did more in 27 years than most people will do their entire lives.

He was also my friend, to whom I never got to say goodbye, never got “closure” if there is such a thing. Ben’s voice is often inside my head and thoughts remain of a life lived more adventurously, a life he would have been proud to inspire. I hail from southern Arizona where distances are vast, dirt roads plentiful and riding is year-round. In 2012, having never ridden a motorcycle, I bought a Honda NC700X and made several modifications to it.

Fast forward about a year and a crazy idea is born: Why not get together with my best friends, Jon and Josh, and ride from the Mexican border to Garrapata State Park in Carmel, California, where Ben took his last photo before his ill-fated trip?

We couldn’t just go there directly; instead we’d take backroads and dirt roads all the way, no interstates at all, while camping off the motorcycles. Never mind I had only 3,000 miles under my belt, and the other guys didn’t own bikes and had never ridden on dirt at all—what could go wrong?

Not long after we’d settled on this outlandish plan, I made tracks to Overland Expo and began to spread the word. The support I received was unexpected and inspiring, leaving me with more ideas than ever, as well as contacts including magazine editors and owners of major motorcycle supply companies. Our ride now seemed more possible than ever.

We still had to make sure our efforts fully honored Ben and what he believed in, so on top of all the planning and logistics, we decided to raise money for a scholarship in Ben’s name, one that provides advanced flight training to students at Embry Riddle, the kind of training that saves lives when the chips are down.