3 a.m. Metrics
Waking up at three in the morning is my new normal. It’s when my mind is sharpest, and also when it gets trapped, chewing on the bullshit metrics we’re told define a successful life: job, money, love. Somewhere between a foggy Minnesota road and the imagined violence of someone in a hurry to go nowhere, it became painfully clear: our priorities are broken, our patience is gone, and the math we’re using to measure a life doesn’t add up.
A Good Fucking Day
Today didn’t fix everything. I’m still not the same person I was before the accident, and maybe I never will be. But for the first time in a while, my brain showed up, my bike plans snapped into place, and something I built actually landed exactly right. Some days aren’t about healing or closure. Some days are just about momentum. And today? Today was a good fucking day.
RIDEST is Live
RIDEST is live. Born out of a crash, recovery, and a refusal to accept unfair systems, this initiative is about making New Mexico biker-friendly and biker-safe — with fairness, accountability, and freedom at the center.
Some Days the Words Don’t Come, But the Ride Does
Some days I wake up with stories clawing to get out. Other days, my wrist hurts, my foot protests, and the words stay quiet. On those days, I ride. And somewhere between cold air, torque, and movement, my soul remembers who the fuck I am.
Between Sleeps
I fall asleep early, wake up in the middle of the night, write until dawn, ride through cold Santa Fe mornings, then do it all over again. It wasn’t the routine I planned, but it’s the one that’s healing me. Writing has become the thread that stitches my body, mind, and spirit back together, and right now, I wouldn’t trade this strange, quiet rhythm for anything.
Noise, Torque, and the Awakening of Aurora Borealis
It wasn’t the ride that did it, it was the phone call. Missed at first, answered on the side of the road, and instantly changing everything. Parts were in. The schedule was real. And just like that, Aurora Borealis was one step closer to becoming the light-to-light monster she was always meant to be.
Reclaiming My Body Is Not A Group Decision
I walked into a pool hall wearing sneakers and immediately learned something important: people are real comfortable giving advice about recoveries they’ve never lived. Here’s the thing: reclaiming my body, my life, and my autonomy is not a fucking group decision.
When Empathy Has An Asterisk
People will feel sorry for you after an accident, right up until they find out you were on a motorcycle. Then something shifts. The empathy softens. The judgment creeps in. As if choosing to ride means you consented to being hit. As if freedom comes with a moral penalty.
Collateral Damage
One reckless U-turn destroyed my bike, my body, and my freedom—and the woman who caused it walked away with barely an inconvenience. Six weeks later, I’m still paying for her decision in flesh, bone, and stolen pieces of my life.
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.
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.
Rolling Stops and Righteous Fools
Motorcyclists live in a world full of backseat drivers and badge-wielding experts who don’t know the first thing about the ride. Two stories, one truth: people love to police what they don’t understand — but sometimes, justice still rolls on two wheels.
15 Things Car Drivers Need to Know About Motorcycles
Every biker has that story — the car that cuts us off, the driver texting through traffic, the brake-check that nearly takes our life. Here’s what car drivers need to understand about why we ride the way we do — and why your little mistake could cost us everything.