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.
Motorcycles Aren't the Problem
Motorcyclists are constantly told to wear more gear, ride more defensively, and take more training. We do. But maybe it's time we stopped treating riders as the problem and started asking why nearly every piece of motorcycle safety equipment exists to protect us from everyone else.
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.
Done Waiting
Eight months is long enough. Long enough to wait. Long enough to trust the process. Long enough to hope someone else would ask the hard questions. Tonight, I decided I'm done waiting. If nobody else is willing to fight for motorcycle safety and accountability, then I'll do it myself.
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.
Aggressive Isn't Reckless
People hear that I ride aggressively and assume I'm reckless. Those aren't the same thing. Since my accident, I ride with one overriding goal: I refuse to let myself get trapped in a pack of cars. My life literally depends on creating space.
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.
Letting Off the Throttle
I found myself letting off the throttle this weekend. Not because I was tired. Not because the bike wasn't running right. Because for the first time in a very long time, I wasn't trying to get somewhere. I was exactly where I wanted to be: surrounded by veterans, raising money for kids, riding with good people, and sharing the road with a woman who makes my soul feel whole.