What the Actual Fuck
What would the Founding Fathers think if they woke up in modern America? Would they recognize the nation they fought to create, or would they wonder how a people born in liberty became so comfortable asking permission? This Independence Day, I found myself asking a question that refuses to leave me alone.
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.
We Speak the Same Language
There are some things in life that can't be explained. They can only be understood by someone who's walked the same road. After years of believing recovery was a path I had to walk alone, I finally met someone who already spoke the language my soul had been trying to translate.
The Door Was Already There
She kept telling me this was just the honeymoon phase. That eventually we'd settle down and those overwhelming feelings would fade. I don't think she's right. Not because I believe infatuation lasts forever. Because I don't think this is infatuation. I think we simply opened a door and discovered love had been patiently waiting for us all along.
A Healer’s Words
For years, Kerry has been helping put my body back together. Now she's telling me that my words might help put someone else's spirit back together. That's a humbling thing to hear from someone who has dedicated her life to helping others heal.
The Cost of Saying No
Sometimes leadership isn't about saying yes. Sometimes it's about standing in a room full of people who have already committed themselves to a mistake and having the courage to say no. Not because it's popular. Not because it's politically advantageous. Because it’s the right thing to do.
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.
Twenty-Five Years Later
Twenty-five years after walking through the doors of this institution, I found myself sitting in a leadership class for first-time managers, raising my hand just to remind people I existed. It wasn't the training that bothered me. It wasn't even being overlooked. It was the realization that after decades of service, battles fought, and lessons learned the hard way, I'm still standing in the same place saying, "Excuse me, I'm over here." Maybe that's the lesson. Maybe after twenty-five years, it's finally time to stop asking for a seat at the table and build a new one.
It's Time to Move On
Another rejection landed in my inbox this week. That's okay. The stories still matter. At some point, continuing to chase acceptance starts feeling less like persistence and more like procrastination. The collection is coming, whether the gatekeepers approve or not.
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.
