Contrary to popular biker culture, I have steadfastly resisted the urge to wear the ubiquitous black biker T-shirt. I have never been one to blend in with the crowd, although I confess, I must own 5 dozen of these black cotton shirts stuffed, stashed and crammed all over my house, garage, barn, office, etc… They…

I remember certain things from my youth vividly. Like the year I received a “Big-Wheel” under the Christmas tree (1968). I remember the road trip to Minnesota in my parents’ Volkswagen Micro-Bus to visit an odd-smelling aunt who frightened me (1971). I distinctly recall the tiny green plastic army soldiers scattered about the backyard that…

I’m sitting in my home office immersed in my usual Thursday night routine. Kids asleep, Yvonne upstairs pecking away at her computer, Dachshund Jack Russell mix fast asleep at my feet. All is quiet in what my neighbors call the ‘terrace’ level, that which I call —- ‘a basement.’ Nonetheless, this is my refuge from…

So, I pull out the bar stool and peel off my leather jacket to sling it across the back of the stool. I couldn’t help but notice the couple sitting in the next two stools, clad in black with Killer Creek Harley t-Shirts, with similarly slung leather jackets. They were obviously the riders on the…

There is something about the water, particularly lakes for me. The sound of waves, the babble of headwater streams, gentle waves lapping up against a pebbled shoreline of a great lake. Sounds not typically associated with riding a motorcycle unless you ride your bike to a lakeside retreat or to your mountainside cottage on a…

A few of months ago I spent the weekend down at the Atlanta Motor Speedway. It was that time of year again, the ABATE spring Rally. It was a great rally this year, subject of a whole separate story. There was greasy food and used parts strewn about tarps and loud rock music and dust…

I do not recall the exact year. It was certainly a long time ago, in a galaxy far, far away. My best recollection is that it was the ‘mid’ maybe ‘late’ eighties. I say that because the one detail that is very clear to me is the bike I rode that year. A recycled Harley…

My life is sometimes filled with dichotomies. Being a “Biker” “Lawyer” itself can sometimes be a contradiction in terms. An Oxymoron if you will. Lawyers are typically thought of as genteel aristocratic types with French cuffs and wingtip shoes in a Mercedes Benzes while Bikers are thought of as typically leather clad roughians donning tattoos…

Technically, as I sit astride this 1952 Sunbeam motorcycle, I am 3,937.7 miles from home, as the crow flies. Dublin City, Ireland, a few hundred miles from my destination, Donegal, my ancestral home. A long ride on a bike although I confess, I flew here. Alas, an old bike is no less fickle in a…

My father once told me: “When you judge a man, start from the ground up.” He may have been offering a foundational metaphor for a man’s character, but I doubt it. You see, he was a tough plain speaking Irishman. A smart man, though with little education, his schooling was street learned, Marine Corps hardened.…