> I felt my lungs inflate with the onrush of scenery—air, mountains, trees, people. I thought, "This is what it is to be happy." -Sylvia Plath When I was young I was afraid of many things. Being lost was at the top of my list. I’m not sure why

I’m not by nature a collector of things. I’m actually somewhat of a minimalist and don’t much care for clutter. Tonight, though, I find myself in the garage, on my sofa, looking around at the assortment of items and motorcycles that decorate and beautify the one place,

“Do what you love, it’s gonna lead to where you want to go.” -Wayne White When I was a kid we lived in the country, and I loved running at night, even in the winter. I treasured the silence. There were no cars, no birds, and no barking dogs.

When my daughter was little, maybe six or seven, I took her outside on a summer night and we climbed a ladder up to the roof of our house to look at the moon and stars. I’ll never forget it; she looked at me with wide eyes and said,

I almost didn’t submit a column for this issue, not wanting to revisit the events of last summer, but many years ago on the advice of a dear friend I promised myself I’d write what’s true for me and hope it finds a sympathetic ear. As you’

The photograph that accompanies this column was taken by my friend Bob on a ride a year or so ago. We had planned a three-day trip to a BMW rally in Wellsboro, PA, near the Grand Canyon of Pennsylvania (Pine Creek Gorge). It’s a beautiful area a few hundred

> “Whether one moves slowly or with speed, the one who is a seeker will be a finder.”—Rumi— A couple of years ago I was touring Shenandoah National Park in Virginia with my friend Ken and his wife Cindy. I used the occasion to extend a solo trip and rode

I had other ideas for this column, but today I find myself unable to write a single word about anything other than the loss of my dear friend Bob Walden, who died tragically in a motorcycle accident in August in Virginia. Bob and I met through RoadRUNNER after his complimentary

I recently met a young man named Matthew at my garage who came to rent my Bonneville T100 for the day. He said he had grown up in my area and now lived out of state but wanted a bike to ride for the day with his old riding buddy.

A few columns ago I was happy to announce my marriage to Dawn. She was raised in southern South Carolina, where her parents still reside. I had spoken with Dawn’s mother and father, Beverly and Jim, prior to our marriage, though we had never met. Shortly after our elopement,

> Two roads diverged in a wood, and I— I took the one less traveled by, And that has made all the difference. —”The Road Not Taken” by Robert Frost When I started blogging for RoadRUNNER five years ago or so, I used the title “The Road Often Traveled” for my

I have a tendency to meet people at the supermarket when I take the motorcycle for my weekly supply run. I like the looks I get carrying my grocery bags and helmet; people wonder where I’m going to put everything. I’ve written before about others feeling at ease