Luckily, I’m Not in Jail
All I wanted to do was get my wife's Dodge Challenger registered so she could leave on her road trip. Instead, I spent forty-five fucking minutes waiting for a bureaucrat to tell me one missing signature made the impossible impossible, drove across town to another MVD office that somehow figured it out, and then nearly got into a roadside fight with some douchebag in a white SUV who was riding my wife's ass. By the end of the day, Dawna was safely on the road, the car was legal, and I wasn't in handcuffs. I'm calling that a fucking win.
Three Things
Sometimes life has a funny way of reminding you what actually matters.
I thought I was leaving for Colorado on one motorcycle. Instead, a text message changed the entire weekend. Nyx was ready. The repairs were finished. The upgrades were done. And somewhere between picking up my bike and twisting the throttle for the first time, I realized my life had quietly become much simpler than I ever imagined.
There are only three things that truly matter anymore.
The Price of Going Home
The ride home was brutal. Triple-digit heat. Relentless crosswinds. Bugs. A lost wallet somewhere in southern Colorado. And yet, not once during those long miles did I wish I hadn't gone. Some journeys are worth every inconvenience because of who's waiting at the other end.
The Best Laid Plans
The plan was simple: breakfast at Pantry Dos, point Nyx north, and ride to Colorado to see my girlfriend. Then the throttle died, the starter spun, and my beautifully orchestrated weekend turned into trailers, logistics, and a different Harley. But the destination never changed.
Love, Red Chile, and the Second Amendment
I walked into a diner drenched in pink and red hearts wearing a black Second Amendment tank top and boots. Best red chile in town on the way. Valentine’s Day might be a corporate fever dream, but freedom? That’s real. And sometimes the most absurd breakfast scene says more about pluralism than any political debate ever could.