When I ride, I ride hard.  On the highway – an open throttle.  In the corners – on rails as pavement is left searing from the sparks of aggression.

The wind tears at the far corners of my eyes and numbs my skin.  I am at home in the left while others move aside as I pull on. My days, they’re measured in 100 mile increments. And under moonlight I keep focus as darkness tries to drain my will.

On the open road I’m at peace; a healthy solitude.  Other times, a rebel without a cause ripping up the road with a grimace on my face.  Life events are examined here.

I carry only necessities, but with room for more.  And always fine cigars and American whiskey for the down times.

I keep the dirty side down, but know inevitably I’ll do otherwise in time.  I accept that.  I know also, physical limitations are on their way.  And the day I fail to find a bright spot in a ride is my last ride.

Whether familiar or not if you ride with me, you are my brother.  When I ride with my brothers we are a force.  Thriving in the heat off fumes of freedom – this is a life worth living.