Time To Split: An Open Letter to Car Drivers

Traffic works better when we all work together. No man is an island, entire of itself. Therefore, ask not for whom the rider lane-splits; she splits for thee.

Bones & Blood (a listicle)

Diary entry from near my birthday in January, 2017: As a toddler, I was startled to learn from my larger, older cousin that a kid (say, for example, a larger, older cousin) could deploy a toy truck made from six pounds of rock maple as an effective, two-armed cudgel. That was the first time I … [more]

Outcomes

I’m not proud of any of this. As I write this, it’s National Coming Out Day. That’s not my day, any more than Black Lives Matter is my life. I don’t have any desire to dorksplain the meaning of situations, life circumstances, or events to which I am not party. More important to listen, I … [more]

Settle Down

If you believe only G-d can judge you, but you blithely affirm that gays are sinners… If you believe every woman has the right to an abortion, but no man has the right to a gun… If you’re pretty sure the definition of terrorism turns more on egalitarian memes than on the motives of murdering … [more]

Not even slightly about Harvey Weinstein

Decades ago, when I was younger and taller and faster and dumber, I found the big red Guzzi parked on a carpet of flattened beer cans and discarded condoms in the alcove under a staircase at our Mission-style barracks on Fort Sill, leaned down to the clubman bars, and rolled her out onto the wet … [more]

“Faceversary”…?

Today, Facebook treated me to an odd gift, a little movie about my “Faceversary.” Seems I’ve been on the thing for a solid decade, more than making good on my membership in (if this group even still exists) Creepy Old Guys On Facebook. It was an odd present to receive on the occasion of Daughtergirl’s … [more]

Sorta Mad Sunday

The story you are about to read is true. The names have been changed to protect the goofy. Once a year, I wheedle Pretty Wife into letting me ride the Isle of Vashon TT, a bumptious fundraiser for the VME (Vintage Motorcycle Enthusiasts, which you should join, Loyal Reader, if only to be annually apprised … [more]

Not Really About Motorcycles

I only knew “T” because of motorcycles. When we moved in, the guy across the street introduced himself and asked what we had under our bike covers. Tony turned out to be one of the good guys, loaning tools without being asked and even putting us up in his RV for a couple of nights when … [more]