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.
I No Longer Believe in America
I thought I did my bit. I served in the Army. I went to college. I started and ran a successful business. I raised two kids and sent them to college. I bought houses, cars, furniture and paid my taxes. I walk my dog. I love my wife of thirty-two years. I wasn’t blind...
Pebbles
Randy owns and manages The Mineral Springs Motel, a rundown twenty-three-room motel in Webster Springs, West Virginia
We Were Fourteen
There is only one first kiss; the warm, chamois-soft press, the smells of young woman sweat and Herbal Essence shampoo, of seaweed and saltwater and warm sandstone, of bourbon and cigarettes, scents that even still bring back that moment.
Life
The fact that we, you and I, exist is a mathematical impossibility
The Quitman Legacy
John Quitman owned 400 people
Captain Caviar
In Morgan City, Louisiana I stayed at the Morgan City Motel, a small, lonely $60.00 room.
Evening in Southern Louisiana
America is a beautiful thing...
Colonel Sawyer
Captain Sawyer was my Commanding Officer when I arrived at the 1st Squadron, 1st Cavalry Regiment, the 1/1 Cav, at O’Brien Barracks in Schwabach, West Germany
The Chicken Farmer
Ursula is fifty-four and has a son and some ex-husbands and lives alone in a pre-fab house on two acres of sun-baked scrub grass in eastern Tennessee
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