Here it goes… Four years ago today a phone rang. I missed the call. The voicemail, my aunt’s voice. “Adrian, come home right away. Your dad isn’t doing well.” It was a lie. He was already dead. But that’s what ...Read More »
My father hit me once, but he only ever hit me once. What I learned from that single open handed hit was discipline, love, grace, humility, respect, and trust. The strike itself taught me the first lesson (discipline). I had been ...Read More »
This story started over twenty years ago. Life was simpler then. A 24″ television was a big deal. 40 channels of cable was a big deal. Monday night wrestling was a big deal. If you were a really good kid, you got ...Read More »
Night times are always the worst. It’s just you and your battle scars, the ones inside and out, on a motorcycle riding aimlessly in desperate search of dawn. On your right arm are the burns from fiddling with things and ...Read More »
Some nights there are far too many hours between when the bar lets out and when the cemetery opens up. Those are the nights bad things can happen. Those are the nights when your best bet is calling up a ...Read More »
For my Dad, who said - among countless other words of encouragement - “That’s a great site!”
This post is just for you. My father hasn't been permitted to drive for the past few years on account of having had brain cancer, leaving him prone to potential seizures. He beat his brain tumor only to be hit with cancer in the central nervous system in his spine. This isn't a sad story. Au contraire, it's my answer to not only what was my greatest motorcycle memory of 2011, but also a day I will remember forever.