Excited, but a little apprehensive of the last leg of our journey, neither of us were ready to slow the wheels and pack up the leftovers from a long dreamt aspiration to cross between the coasts. A few miles within the cities limits, Justin eyed a mural beckoning us with provocation, waiting patiently, mostly naked, and on her stomach to welcome us, poignantly, to Miami. We’ve made it. Unofficially, we had become the first to ride Indian Motorcycle’s new Scout and Scout Sixty the long way across the U.S. I replayed the phrase in my thoughts, I’ll admit, a little proud. Appropriately, I thought, I had booked us a stay at the New Yorker Boutique Hotel in Little Haiti. An art deco motel once in disrepair, revitalized by its newest owners and fresh-faced in front with a young hip staff to greet eager expats expecting of their own version of a Miami daydream, without the racket.