New Stuff


Life has changed a lot since I spent any time here.  This was always meant to capture thoughts, ideas, pictures, and memories.  But when you’re doing your best not to think, it’s not exactly a happy place.   Hopefully that’s changing.   Let’s find out, shall we?

Rambling of the sleep deprived.

In the daylight, I find, it is easy to be sure. To know things, and be fearless. For while the destination may yet be hidden, the path at least is clear. Then it isn’t. You arrive at your crossroads. Your dark twilight that must quickly be crossed. From the bright things of day to the quiet in the night. Surrounding you, billowing out of the silence comes the inescapable dark. When everyone else is away, and you are left to you. When sleep does not quickly take you, the surety withers. You question. You worry and fear. You retreat in the darkness, stumbling over the past, careening off a cliff of decisions gone wrong that you haven’t made yet. And it’s tragic and you’re trapped, and you’ll always be alone and you’ll never escape and it will never end. And then it ends. One way or another it always ends. This time sleep takes you. This time the morning comes. And there is peace. And there is the secret. In its own time, the light always returns.

Big Red Truck

It used to be a Big Red Truck.  Not actually red, of course.  It was a big Green truck in it’s last working configuration.  Big Red Truck was something of an inside joke years and years ago.

Now it’s quietly rusting away, a shadow of it’s former self.  Waiting to be turned into a tank in the event of a Zombie Apocalypse.  Imagine re-engineering it, so the back is the front, camera driving system…  you could plow through herds of ’em…

The styling on the tank, and the entire truck is beautiful.

The styling on the tank, and the entire truck is beautiful.


Again - the styling.  The lines and curves are great on this truck.

Again – the styling. The lines and curves are great on this truck.

Apparently it used to be a fuel oil truck

Apparently it used to be a fuel oil truck

A New Host


I finally gotten motivated and left godaddy for hosting.  The price increases and agressive sales phone calls are just too much.   The result of this, though, is that I’ve broken the image links for many of these posts.   I’ll work on getting the links fixed over time, and hopefully have it looking like it used to.

To Paradise


A few days ago I had a day off by myself. I had planned on catching up on chores and obligations, but on a trip to the garage I saw my KLR sitting there, and it was too much to resist. So I got on, figuring maybe a quick ride around the Tahuya loop, then back to chores. I ended up riding to Mt. Rainier. I wrote this when I got home.

It’s that moment. When you’re riding along, and the air smells like pine and cedar and fresh rain and crisp mountain air. And it’s all spiced with a hint of leather, because you throw your gloves in your helmet at every stop.

You’ve avoided the freeways, and if you have to explain why then it’s not someone you want to talk to. Come to think of it, you don’t really want to talk to anyone at all. That’s why the day wasn’t planned. No plans, no announcements, and no invitations. No cell phone, no email or facebook. Just wheels and wind and a wandering mind. The whole point is escape. The further away you get, the lighter the load. You can even ponder, what would happen if I didn’t go back? Not an option, but it all seems possible in the sunshine. On two wheels. Life will pull you back eventually. You can already feel it pulling.

You feel the pull of the universe around every corner, but the wheels are great big beautiful gyroscopes, and they pull you back up every time. Away from gravity, and away from worry and responsibility and bullshit. And for long, comfortable, indulgent but oh so necessary stretches of asphalt there’s just the wind. No stoplights. No traffic. And you’ve never been so sure about anything as you are of this: this is your road. It was designed and built and paved and has been maintained all these years because someone somewhere knew that one day, you would need to escape. You need to run away before you become one of them. You need that stretch of blacktop along the river, and up the mountain and through the sweeping curves amongst the trees. Your soul needs it. Feeds on it. You’re reborn on two wheels. And in the back of your mind you know that it’ll all be there when you get back. The laundry, the dishes, the bills, the empty bank account and the voice mail and text messages and everything else. In the back of your mind, you know. That’s when you downshift, and lean real deep in the next curve. And before you have time to remember that other bill that’s due, that other task that’s late, or that other person that wants that little piece of you, the bike stands back up and you’ve got to throw it into the next corner. You push the handlebars, twist the throttle, and for just a little while… It all clicks. It seems right. Seems worth it.