My site has a new theme and with that, some new formatting. I’ll be making changes in the coming days and weeks, so bear with me. In the meantime, my blog follows below and you can find links to all sorts of me-goodies in the footer (select the little drawer at the bottom of the page). Thanks for stopping by!
July 19, 2012 — I had to pack light. No helmet. No armored jacket. No tools. I stuffed four pairs of socks and knickers down into the toe of a motorcycle boot. As many Under Armor shirts and black Ts went down the other. With both boots stuffed deep in my backpack I tucked the rest of my sundry items into the various pockets and compartments of my tired and true old blue bag. - Read More -
I have a question for you, my handful of regular readers.
As many of you know, I write regularly as an automotive journalist for MotoringFile.com, BimmerFile.com, and ScooterFile.com. I also spent a year as BlueCat Motors’ official documentarian, writing a weekly story about what was going on at the shop and some of my own thoughts about riding old motorcycles. - Read More -
I’ve just learned that David Rackoff died today.. His decades long struggle with cancer finally got the better of him. I’m deeply saddened to hear of his passing. His was a dark, wonderful wit. When I think back to my first exposure to him — his Fraud essay entitled “In New England, everyone calls you Dave” — on This American Life, I realize just how much of my own thought journey I owe to Rackoff.
His essays inform my own introspection at adult life. “In New England…” introduced me to TAL, to David Sedaris, to Mike Birbiglia, to Sarah Vowel and a dozen others — all of which grew my love of non-fiction storytelling. He was one of the first gay men I recognized as a person rather than just an orientation. And while I haven’t read him in a while, I know the world is a lesser place now that there won’t be any new work of his in it. Thank you, David Rackoff.
June 9, 2012 — Sometimes a journey is the destination. Sometimes it’s the road. Other times it’s surprises along the way that happen when I intersect other journeys I didn’t even know I was taking. This time, it was all of the above. - Read More -
Back in March I paid a visit to a Chicago-area motorcycle institution. Each Sunday morning, bikers of all sorts descend on the Full Moon Diner for the weekly motorcycle gathering and ride. - Read More -
May 20, 2012 — My thumb hurt. Somewhere between a cramp and an ache, my right thumb felt like it didn’t want to be part of my hand anymore. It was tired of squeezing the throttle on my ’83 Honda GL1100. It’d been about 90 minutes since I set off from Evanston, IL to intercept my buddy Bree on his way back from Minneapolis. - Read More -