On this Thanksgiving Day one of the things I am grateful for is our trusty 2007 Forester, Steve. I last wrote about Steve a couple of years back, and in that post I tell the story of his awkward name. At the end I invited you to tell me about your rides and your cool… [Continue Reading]
So, what do you drive?
Steve I like cars. But I tend not to like new, shiny cars. I like beat up older cars. More character, less worry. Certainly better stories. Shamefully, I have never named my cars. This doesn’t mean I haven’t had great affection for some of them, it just never occurred to me. They seemed to be OK… [Continue Reading]
It’s better in the wind. Still.
A couple three years or so back I put up this post, most of which is repeated below. I figure it needs repeating. Maybe not for you, but for me. It is a beautiful spring day here in New Hampshire, Sunday in fact, and if all were right with the world I’d be out on… [Continue Reading]
Around the world with an Aussie Biker
The motorbike I found parked in my Guatemalan hotel lobby; here in the Moroccan desert In March 2014 I was spending the month in Antigua, Guatemala, where they will kill you for your shoes. Or maybe not. One day I returned to my hotel to find a motorcycle parked in the lobby sporting an Australian… [Continue Reading]
Wild Turkeys, Motorcycles, Dining Room Sets & Greed
Wild Turkey painting by Don Balke This morning the wild turkeys came out of the woods and on to the back lawn for a visit. The last time was in the Fall when they were in the front yard with a small herd of deer, so it’s been a while. While I am very much… [Continue Reading]
“It’s Better in the Wind” or why I ride a motorcycle
As mentioned in my last post my travels to Ecuador served to shift my priorities to Susegar, that wonderful state of taking it easy. Of course, it also has meant that I’ve hardly posted here at all. To my considerable amazement this short fall has generated concern and irritation on the part of some of… [Continue Reading]
The. Worst. Used. Car. Ever.
Spitfire Back in 1977 I was renting a little studio up in Rogers Park, a neighborhood on the far north side of Chicago. I was young, single, employed, carefree and making some bucks. I needed a toy. A sports car. That’s the ticket. I lived in the city. I didn’t own a car. Didn’t need… [Continue Reading]