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The most terrifying day of my life. Always dress properly for long motorcycle rides. I left the mountain around ten am. My mom had packed some snacks for me, which wouldn’t fit in my bag if I also took the extra jacket I had brought. I opted to take the snacks instead of the jacket. Food is . . . → Read More: Diary of a Motorcycle: Part II [My brother will be guest editor for a couple posts because he had a story to tell. This is that story.] You don’t have to be a commie to ride a motorcycle, but diaries are for teenage girls. Tough, but girls will laugh at you. A couple months ago I got a motorcycle. I had been riding a . . . → Read More: Diary of a Motorcycle: Part One The majestic Alabama Hills, as depicted by Ansel Adams. The surreality of golfing is enough to warrant that nothing more needs to be said—unless you end up in Lone Pine. Lone Pine as a concept should have dissolved into a wispy ghost town decades ago, but it survives by the graces of curious Los Angeles travelers in . . . → Read More: Golfing I’m not normally one to complain about other people’s loud music. I like my music loud too, and some tunes are simply meant to be played at ear-splitting volumes: Ozzy, Jane’s, Metallica, … Chris Isaac. I do, however, hold a certain angry, intense contempt in my heart for static: and on that note, a stereo went off the . . . → Read More: Taser Laser As I exited Blenders on State Street the other day, I heard a commotion just up the street. I looked up to hear honking and several people running around a few cars. I couldn’t quite make out the details. I got on my bike, balanced with my smoothie, and began my ride down State. Upon . . . → Read More: G-strings and Sorority Girls |
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