Onstage that night [near Washington, D.C.], I noticed an older woman, certainly in her sixties, watching us with a wistful intensity, looking both confused and earnest, somehow. I had seen people like that before in our audiences, sometimes older couples, sometimes stooped and gray-haired single men and women, and I had the feeling — perhaps informed by the shared understanding of a bereaved paren… Moret — that they had lost a child who had been a fan of ours, and were trying in this way to reconnect. My heart was touched by that.

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I have said before that the two best things about touring are, one, lots of motorcycling, and two, with all the calories I burn onstage, I can eat anything I want. Traveling in Continental Europe would push both of those advantages to the maximum.

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To my eyes, and to my soul, the most beautiful part of the world was the Alps, not just in Switzerland, but where they spilled into Germany’s Bavaria, Austria, France, and Italy. Every time you crossed a mountain pass, or rounded a bend along a glacial river, another prospect of stunning natural beauty awaited — vertical walls of granite rising up to snowy peaks before you, or a serene valley of lush pastures and tidy homesteads falling away below. The air was a bracing cocktail of pines and snow, hayfields and wildflowers, with the keen edge of the high elevations.

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Riding toward the next turn at the outside of the lane, using all the available road, maximizing my own visibility and the ability of other vehicles to see me, I would look through the corner as far as I could, appraise its sharpness, banking, and surface, then choose the turn-in point. Squeezing the tank with my knees and holding on, my hands were free to be as smooth as possible on the brakes, throttle, and clutch, as I settled my entry speed and gear, then leaned the bike into it, pushing on the bar and leaning on the inside footpeg, using my body to help the turn.

When the bike was heeled over and angling through the curve, I used the edges of my mirrors as guides, my peripheral vision keeping the tip of the inside mirror along the radius of the painted lines. I also used a trick I had learned from yoga, of throwing my senses ahead of me: when I was learning the “balanced poses,” standing on one foot with the other limbs extended, a yoga instructor pointed out that it was helpful to focus on a distant point — to fix my concentration, my awareness, away from the space under my foot. The same concept worked for me on the motorcycle. Instead of thinking of the road under me, or just in front of my wheels, I tried to “send myself” farther ahead. By concentrating on a point well up the road, my movements on the bike and its controls became smoother, and I could go faster with less anxiety.
More excitement, less fear — an important part of my old formula, “Danger + Survival = Fun.”

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In most ways, the last show of the tour didn’t feel any different from any of the others. The same rituals, the same tension, the same walk from the dressing room to the stage. I waited with Geddy and Donovan at stage left (Alex went on from stage right) for the intro film to play through. When Jerry Stiller said “Come on, it’s show time!,” we would run onstage, and Alex would start the “R30 Overture.”

Then “The Spirit of Radio,” “Force Ten,” and onward, one by one. There was no time to think “that’s the last time I have to play that song,” as the concentration and energy required were still the same, and the importance of my own performance was still the same, last show, first show, or any in between.

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And, last show or not, it went very well, as we worked our way through the set, in front of an enthusiastic and smiling audience of 10,076 people.

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At the beginning of 2112, Alex holds up thumb and forefinger circled in a zero, and we share big goofy smiles. The last appearance of the “pirates,” then “La Villa Strangiato,” with Alex’s last story-time, then through to the big ending. A quick drink and iced towel behind the stage, then run back on. In celebration of the last night, a dozen or so of the crew guys join Alex and Geddy at the dryers, helping to throw the T-shirts into the audience. Then we launch into the fast-paced trio of “Summertime Blues,” “Crossroads,” and “Limelight.”

I put my drumsticks down on the floor tom to my right, stand up, bow and wave to the audience three times, then run for the car. Less