I wander America on a Harley Davidson motorcycle, sleep on couches and in fifty-dollar motel rooms, eat at Waffle House and Main Street cafes, and have conversations with people whose politics I might not agree with. These are our stories.
Sarah & Pradeep
You don’t meet interesting people at the Holiday Inn Express. The best motel rooms for a good conversation cost less than fifty dollars. Sarah and Pradeep are on vacation, traveling the country in his Porsche. The Grand Central Motel in Ely, Nevada is a $65 room in a...
Legacy
I rode my motorcycle to Portland, Oregon to visit my brother, Greg. Greg has dementia. Dementia is a terminal condition. Waiting for the pilot car at one of the many long Montana road construction sites, the guy in front of me got out of his car and I took off my...
Thin Grey Lines
I’m riding from Minneapolis to Portland, Oregon to visit Greg, my brother. Long travel on a motorcycle gives you time in your head. Nothing to brake your thought, to infringe on your psychic wander except the feel of the day, now cooler now warmer, the splat-crunches...
Wellbeing in America
The America we grew up in won’t survive the next few years.
American Graffiti
In 1962, American young people believed in America.
The Barber
In Fès, every morning I have breakfast at the Cinema Café, a little street-side diner with movie posters on the walls and indoor and outdoor tables; a cheese omelet, half an avocado sliced on top, hummus with a tomato garnish, fresh-squeezed orange juice, tart black...
My View of America
A friend told me that I was being apocalyptic in my view of America. In the late 1800s, a French painter by the name of Georges Seurat created a style of painting called pointillism. Pointillism is the aggregation of thousands of tiny dots that in their entirety...
Huh…
I thought we all believed in the purple mountains’ majesty
Fès
A balding tom with orange mange shrinks into an earthen pipe dug and laid a thousand years ago today.
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