One More Stop
If you've been wondering where I've been the last few days, don't worry. I was just paying the bill for my own life choices. Riding across New Mexico in triple-digit heat on a motorcycle with no windshield taught me something I should have figured out a long time ago: toughness isn't always about pushing harder. Sometimes it's about knowing when to stop for another bottle of water.
The Responsible Thing
I went to look at a used Indian expecting to find the dependable backup bike I need. What I found was something worse: a perfectly sensible motorcycle. It ran well, the price was right, and it was comfortable enough to do the job. It just didn’t try to rip my arms off when I twisted the throttle. Apparently, this is what responsibility feels like.
The Guy Code
There are rules among men that nobody ever writes down, but everyone seems to understand. Veterans, bikers, and blue-collar guys have a habit of testing each other with sarcasm, insults, and relentless ribbing. As a transgender veteran, I don't always know which set of social rules I'm about to be judged by. Last weekend reminded me that sometimes the hardest part isn't surviving the test, it's explaining to the people you love why the test existed in the first place.
The Best Laid Plans
Sometimes the best weekends are the ones where absolutely nothing goes according to plan. A delayed motorcycle seat, a brutal ride across Colorado, missed events, and a chance conversation around a circle of folding chairs reminded me that life has a habit of changing the destination while you're still focused on the map.
Weaponized Windshield Fluid
Somewhere outside Denver, a driver decided to teach a motorcyclist a lesson by spraying windshield washer fluid straight backward into my face at highway speeds. Maybe they thought it was funny. Maybe they thought I was following too closely. What they almost did was blind someone balancing on two wheels in heavy traffic. Motorcyclists already accept enough risk from distracted drivers, weather, and wildlife. We shouldn't have to defend ourselves from people who intentionally make the road more dangerous.
What a Fucking Ride
Sometimes the ride sucks. Not because of the rain. Not because of the miles. But because Murphy decides today's the day your comfortable bike is broken, your GPS loses its damn mind, your backpack weighs a hundred pounds, and your body files a formal complaint with every mile. Then your wife smiles at you across a hotel parking lot, and somehow none of it matters anymore.
Maybe I Should Give Up Motorcycles
Last year, a woman turned left in front of me and nearly killed me. She didn't get a ticket. This year, I got a mandatory court appearance for riding the way I do to stay alive. Somewhere along the way, we've decided it's acceptable to endanger motorcyclists, but apparently not acceptable to be one.
I’m Coming To Get You
A perfect Friday. A new employee with a bright future. A Harley that decided it had other plans. Sometimes life throws a broken motorcycle, a tipped-over bike, and a wiring harness at you just to see what you'll do. But sometimes, buried inside the chaos, you're reminded what dependable love actually looks like.
False Urgency
Sometimes the most dangerous thing on the road isn't speed, bad weather, or distracted drivers. Sometimes it's the pressure we create in our own heads. One embarrassing mistake at a security checkpoint and one terrifying moment on the ride home reminded me that rushing to save a few seconds can cost you a whole lot more.
Hollywood Doesn't Understand Bikers
Hollywood has spent decades telling Americans that cowboys and bikers are natural enemies. It's a great movie trope, but it's also complete fiction. My experience with the biker community has revealed something very different. Cowboys and bikers have far more in common than Hollywood would ever admit. They value freedom, self-reliance, hard work, and the simple desire to be left the hell alone.
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 People Who Earn It
Lately I've written a lot about people and institutions that have disappointed me. Cities. Leadership. Bureaucracy. Systems that somehow make simple things harder than they need to be.
Then my motorcycle broke down.
What should have been another frustrating experience became a reminder that there are still people out there who quietly earn your trust one honest conversation, one repaired machine, and one kept promise at a time.
Fair-Weather Riders
I used to think every motorcyclist felt the same pull I do: the need to ride every chance they get. Then I realized that not everyone finds the same thing in two wheels. For some it's a hobby. For me, it's home.
Independence
Some weekends change your life in quiet ways. This one is filled with firsts: our first real road trip together, my first morning writing while she sleeps peacefully nearby, and most importantly, the day she claims her own freedom by buying her first motorcycle. There couldn't be a more fitting day than Independence Day.
Choosing Each Other
The day began with a broken water line and the sinking feeling that comes from being hundreds of miles away when someone you love needs you. But by the end of the weekend, none of that would matter. Because some people don't just choose to spend time with you. They choose to build a life beside you.
We Are the Same
Some people think becoming a rider starts the day you buy your first motorcycle. I don't. I think the motorcycle is just paperwork. The rider was already there. This weekend, the woman I love gets her first bike, and I already know exactly what's about to happen.
We Are Not the Same
Apparently someone got jealous after seeing my girlfriend on the back of my Harley. But they missed the point entirely. Motorcycles aren't about impressing people or collecting passengers. They're about freedom. And the best part isn't that she's riding behind me today... it's that she'll soon be riding beside me on her own bike.
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.
Fifty-Four
A freezing ride through rain, hail, and wind should have been the story of my birthday weekend. Instead, somewhere between New Mexico and Colorado, I realized something far more important: after a lifetime of surviving, I've finally given myself permission to be happy.