Heavenly Pursuits
I always assumed all bikers loved horsepower. Loved torque. Loved the feeling of a machine trying to rip their arms from their sockets and launch them toward the horizon. Turns out that's not true. Some ride for peace. Some ride for scenery. Some ride for community. And some of us are engaged in an ongoing theological dispute with the laws of physics.
Katelyn's Log, Earth Date 20260531
This morning I found myself doing something I haven't done in a while: feeling nervous before a first meeting.
Not because I'm looking for "the one." Not because I've built some fantasy in my head. But because every now and then you meet someone who just clicks. Someone whose humor lands. Someone whose perspective makes sense. Someone who feels like they belong in your orbit, regardless of what comes next.
“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 Weave
Every motorcycle rider knows the feeling: getting trapped behind a painfully slow driver while traffic stacks up behind both of you. What starts as mild annoyance quickly evolves into a full psychological investigation of the driver's intelligence, ancestry, and questionable life choices. A profanity-laced exploration of why riders weave, why drivers misunderstand it, and why some people should never be entrusted with the accelerator.
Keep Your Chin Up
A transgender motorcycle rider reflects on humiliation, resilience, rage, and the strange discipline of keeping your composure while life repeatedly tests your patience. Sometimes survival looks less like peace and more like holding your chin up while internally plotting arson.
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.
The Experiment
A Memorial Day reflection on military service, political division, civic pride, and the strange loneliness of modern America. A veteran rides through northern New Mexico searching for community, meaning, remembrance, and perhaps a little hope that the American spirit still exists beneath the noise.
Are You Still Watching?
My sleep schedule has become absolute chaos. Couch naps turn into fake responsibility, fake responsibility turns into sleeping with the bedroom light on, and somewhere in the middle of all that nighttime nonsense I somehow manage to write a few pages before dawn drags me back into the world.
Guarded
A perfect breakfast, a violently loud motorcycle, and one tiny moment that changed the emotional temperature of an otherwise beautiful morning. A reflection on routine, assumptions, queerness, and the strange distance created when someone suddenly sees you differently than you thought they did.
Remember The Fallen
Memorial Day is supposed to be about remembrance, sacrifice, and the men and women who never came home. A submarine veteran reflects on military service, fallen sailors, branch rivalry, and the growing disconnect between national sacrifice and modern American comfort.
Behavior Correction Plan
Motorcycle riding is equal parts freedom and survival. Between breathtaking New Mexico landscapes and drivers treating traffic laws like optional suggestions, I finally decided to start documenting the chaos with a full-on camera setup mounted to the bike. Expect beautiful scenery, questionable life choices, and a lot of screaming.
Leadership Has Left The Building
After nearly twenty-five years inside a massive institution, I finally climbed high enough up the organizational ladder to see what was really happening. What I found wasn’t leadership. It was ego, self-preservation, and a startling absence of humility. A brutally honest reflection on management, modern corporate culture, and the difference between authority and actual leadership.
I Hope They Get This In Time
The proof copies for A Survivor’s Guide To Survival finally arrived, and for the first time since the accident, this chapter feels complete. This book was designed for people waking up in hospital beds after trauma: scared, hurting, disoriented, and alone. If these words help even one person find their way back to themselves, then the book has already done its job.
The Road Beckons
After betrayal, trauma, and months of emotional chaos, a simple email from a distant friend became something unexpectedly grounding. A reflection on motorcycles, human connection, healing, and the irresistible pull of the open road.
Show the Fuck Up
People reveal themselves in tiny moments. A smile. A thank you. Eye contact. Or the complete absence of all three. A breakfast encounter at a local diner turns into a reflection on presence, energy, and the growing number of people sleepwalking through life expecting the world to carry them.
Necroptic Vision
Ever since the accident, people seem smaller to me. The ones I used to fear. The ones I thought were powerful. Maybe death changed my vision. Maybe I developed some kind of necroptic sight that lets me see through bravado and ego straight into the fragile little souls underneath.
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.
Where Are You?
Somewhere between memory and dream, between longing and hope, I find myself asking the darkness a simple question: Where are you? A deeply personal reflection on loneliness, intimacy, human touch, and the quiet ache of wanting to be truly seen by another soul.
The Ones Who Find You Again
Sometimes the people who matter most aren’t the ones who are always there. They’re the ones who disappear for years and still find their way back. The ones who check in without being asked. The ones who remind you that you were never as alone as you thought.