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.
Laney
In Leeds, not too far from Birmingham, Vicky owns a café called Laney’s. Her daughters, Sharon and Laney, do the managing and cooking, Sharon’s daughter, Lillian, makes the biscuits. Hot and buttery and crispy brown on the outside, served with pepper gravy, those biscuits are so worth the sore butt of getting there.
When The Road Is Good
Once in a while, when the road is good and the air temperature and humidity and the thrum of intake, ignition and exhaust are just so, motorcycling creates its own ethereality. Yesterday was like that.
Dad and Son
The boots are the story
Jim’s Cafe
In front of Jim’s Café, I sat on the bench next to Ronald Lee Anderson and we got to talking. He told me about places he’d lived and jobs he’d had and how he supported the SCOTUS decision on Roe.
Somebody Had to Go to Jail
Arthur Lee Brown did a 12-year stretch for a piece of bad luck; one guy had a gun, another guy died and somebody had to go to jail.
Ashley, Dobbs and the Visceral Nature of Rage
For her, the SCOTUS decision was intensely personal, that the court was denying her her choice and her sacrifice.
An Odd and Fitting Talisman
America is a beautiful thing... In the Army, I was a reconnaissance specialist assigned to the 1/1 Cavalry Squadron at O’Brien Barracks in Schwabach, West Germany. We spent several months of the year in the field and I needed a knife, a heavy, general purpose knife...
She Started to Cry
Ashley was raped when she was fifteen by someone she knew and that having the baby had been a choice, her god damned choice.
Dogs, Snakes and Blackberries. Everything But Guns.
Blackberries grow wild around Ron’s house, they’re smaller and sweeter than farm-raised but you’ve got to watch the thorns. The dogs like them, too. Rattlesnakes are becoming a problem.
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