I Wasn't Riding to Escape
For most of my life, I was trying to escape. Escape pain. Escape disappointment. Escape myself. But somewhere between dying, surviving, rebuilding, and falling in love, something changed. For the first time in my life, I wasn't riding to outrun anything. I was simply riding.
The Bravest Thing I Haven’t Done
For twenty-five years, I've fought battles at work, protected my team, challenged bad decisions, and pushed back against corporate nonsense. But lately I've realized something uncomfortable: the bravest thing I may ever do isn't standing my ground. It might be walking away.
The World Quiets Down
Last weekend, I rode to Colorado to see a woman who told me she loved me. What followed was a weekend of uncertainty, vulnerability, reconnection, and a realization that some people don't bring excitement into your life; they bring peace.
Can You Give Him A Goddamned Minute?
A food truck cook accidentally called a woman “he” while buried under a lunch rush. What happened next says a lot about performative outrage, modern allyship, and our culture's inability to distinguish between harmless mistakes and actual injustice.
“Outlaw” Bikers
A trip to the Harley dealership turns into an unexpected lesson about modern biker culture. Expecting to find an ally in the fight against government overreach, one rider instead discovers that not everyone wearing leather believes in freedom the same way. A rant about loud pipes, regulations, Baby Boomers, and the growing gap between the image of rebellion and the reality of compliance.
The Bear
After surviving a motorcycle crash that nearly killed her, a rider watches Santa Fe quietly criminalize the very thing many bikers use to stay alive: being heard. A furious reflection on freedom, government overreach, automated enforcement, and what happens when working people stop feeling represented.
Thunder Therapy
There’s a moment when a motorcycle stops being transportation and becomes therapy. The rumble settles your nervous system. The throttle clears your mind. And for a few perfect hours on a New Mexico morning, nothing exists except speed, sunrise, and the violent reassurance that you’re still alive.
El Paso, Heat, and a Little Bit of Healing
Sometimes you don’t need to burn your life down. Sometimes you just need to ride far enough to remember who the hell you are.
Running South
I’m coming up on five months since the accident. Five fucking months. And just when I thought I was clawing my way back, life decided to remind me that sometimes the hardest hits don’t come from the road… they come from people.
The Keeper of the Speed
Fresh from cardiology, defibrillator checked and heart cleared for duty, I rolled into my subdivision only to be greeted by the self-appointed Keeper of the Speed. Apparently retirement now comes with hand signals and moral authority. I had thoughts. My exhaust had volume.
Fuck Molds
People love molds. They love neat categories that let them stop thinking. And when you don’t fit, they don’t expand the mold, they try to shove you into a different one. That’s how freedom gets replaced by slogans.
Freedom Requires Responsibility (And Other Uncomfortable Truths)
We’ve reached a bizarre moment in American culture where saying freedom comes with responsibility is treated as cruelty, and expecting people not to shit on public sidewalks is somehow controversial. This isn’t about lacking compassion. It’s about refusing to lie to ourselves about personal agency, work, and the choices that shape a life. Responsibility isn’t oppression. It’s the price of dignity.
Distractions
We are fucking distracted, all the time. Phones, social media, twenty-four-hour outrage, and convenience engineered to keep us numb. We’ve built entire industries to compensate for our inattention, and then act surprised when manipulation becomes effortless. This isn’t accidental. It’s the system working exactly as designed.
I’m Still Here
I survived fractures, surgeries, lost teeth, missing memories, and a body that sometimes feels like it’s held together by stubbornness and hardware. Bureaucracy tried to wear me down. Pain tried to slow me. The road reminded me who the fuck I am. I’m still here, and I’m not done moving.
America Has a Freedom Problem (And We’re Yelling at the Wrong Things)
America has an anger problem. Not because we lack things to be angry about, but because we keep choosing the wrong ones.
Instead of confronting the slow erosion of individual liberty, we rage at abstractions: imaginary kings, trendy villains, and half-understood claims like “AI wastes water.” Meanwhile, the real machinery that limits freedom hums along quietly in the background, unchallenged and largely unnoticed.
This isn’t activism. It’s distraction.
It Goes Where I Go, Part II: The Soundtrack of a Lived Life
Music has always been the pulse of my life — from my dad’s old record cabinet to the roar of Judas Priest echoing through an arena. Somewhere along the way, my father’s house fell silent, but I can’t let that happen to me. I sing at the top of my lungs when I ride, because every note is a reminder that I’m still here — still breathing, still living, still loud.
It Goes Where I Go
People love to ask questions. Some are born of curiosity, some from awe — and some from pure, unfiltered stupidity. Like asking if I “rode in today” when I’m standing there in chaps, leather, and helmet hair. For me, riding isn’t a hobby; it’s oxygen. It’s the pulse under my skin. It’s what makes the world go silent and my soul come alive.
The Cost of Feeling Safe
We traded our liberty for a sense of comfort, and called it progress. The founders would call it surrender. From DUI checkpoints to border stops miles inland, the “land of the free” has become a nation policed by its own fears.
American Roulette
A cold morning ride, coffee with a colleague, and a breakfast date that turned into a protest invite — another reminder that dating in your fifties is American Roulette, and I’m better off riding solo.