The first music album ever recorded by bicycle across half the planet. One guy, one portable studio, one bike - and a strong suspicion that the bike won't survive it.
Polish by blood, Lithuanian by passport, trilingual by accident. Joined my first rock band at 11, quit smoking for the first time at 15, spent twelve years behind a bar - the wooden kind, mostly. Friends call me a legend, usually right before asking for a free drink. Somewhere between American Pie and Wes Anderson, between attractive hermit and bad influence. Now I'm strapping all of that to a bicycle and seeing what happens.
"Viso gero." That's how we say goodbye in Lithuania. Not the sad kind - a wish. "All the best." I'm saying it to the world while it still makes sense to. The news is unwatchable, the timeline is exhausting, and I'd rather collect stories than hot takes. So: a guitar, a portable studio, a bike loaded past reason. Songs written in the saddle. Sounds caught in places no algorithm knows about. One album, one film, and a future grandkid who'll have to sit through every minute of it.
Lithuania, Carpathians, Caucasus, the Caspian on a ferry that doesn't believe in schedules, the Pamirs, and a Kazakh winter I genuinely don't know how to survive yet. Deserts, monsoons, mountain passes most people only see in documentaries. Bordering on stupid. Probably worth it.
Alaska to Miami. Top of the Americas, bottom of the Americas, everything between. Two oceans, three climates, one continent. Wider stage, smaller ego, same bicycle. Roughly.
Here's the honest version. One human, one bicycle, one project that costs more than I have. Patreon and Contribee are how this stays alive - uncensored videos YouTube wouldn't survive, demos before they're songs, rough cuts before they're a film, and for the people who really go all in: your name in the credits when this thing finally screens. Pick a tier, pick a platform, come along.