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Mission Planet Utah: Stage 2
Ground Control to Major Tom….Ground Control to Major Tom…. Take your protein pills… and put your helmet on… Ground Control to Major Tom (Ten, Nine, Eight, Seven, Six) Commencing countdown, engines on (Five, Four, Three) Check ignition and may God’s love be with you… On Tuesday, we awoke in Sector Torrey to a motel room…
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Mission Planet Utah: Stage 1
“Whether it was the ergonomics of the planes, the isolation, an individual person’s psychology, or the perspective of being up so high, break-off sometimes seemed to produce emotional extremes in pilots and others being prepped for space exploration. Some not only felt separated from Earth. They also felt like they had detached from reality.” — from…
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Sunday, Mass
Well, the riding planets aligned on Sunday. Liebe and the kids were either occupied or dispersed—one in NJ for soccer, another at home studying for finals, and the third—my son—in bed with laptop, recovering from an acute case of the Senior Prom… So combined with a perfect June day, it was the perfect excuse to…
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Baja, Ten Years After.
Ten years ago, and on the occasion of my turning a sharp, gravel-strewn corner into midlife (I hit 40), my wife sent me packing. On a gift trip. I guess there’s nothing particularly unusual about receiving a “milestone” birthday gesture like this. Spouses surprise spouses—and partners, partners—when the life-odometer turns over, and you become the proud owner of…
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Blue Friday
It’s the day after Thanksgiving. And if, like me, you hosted yesterday’s ritual food orgy, you’re waking up to a one-third filled sink, a two-thirds reassembled kitchen, and a three-thirds over-extended duodenum. The remains of your turkey carcass probably looks like a giant aluminum foil ball, jammed into the fridge and balancing on top of yogurts, barbecue sauce…
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Goodnight, Vroom
Each November, like many other riders throughout the northeast, midwest, or anywhere else it gets too cold or snowy to ride, I lay my bikes up for the winter. The ritual involves a good pre-sweep of the garage; exquisite outdoor-junk geometry to pack the maximum amount of crap into minimal space; fuel stabilization with Sea Foam or Stabil; the…
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A Ride by the Book: The Trans Mass Trail
Despite the interstates and commuter lines, Walmarts and Home Depots, crumbling industrial-era mill towns where longarms, brass fittings, mantle clocks and hats used to be made, despite Fairfield County’s tri-state gravitational pull, the Boston Post Road, Boston itself, urbanized and under-serviced cities like Bridgeport, and greater Hartford’s well-insured suburban sprawl, New England still has plenty…
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Scoot d’Azure
I never really post anything here on longitude&gratitude about work, because I’m a firm believer in the separation of church and state. And I haven’t seen a constitutional exception yet that would call for the co-mingling of the Church of motorcycles, scooters, and other two-wheeled faiths with the State of my professional work life. Until Cannes. To…
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Two Wheels Good
Waaaayyyy back in the day, as in back in the good-old “10-inch vinyl and cassette mixtape, Evil Empire/Converse hi-tops and Cold War eighties” kinda day, when I was a college kid living on Pine Street in Burlington, Vermont, I got deeply into this: (You know, other than the upturned collars and new-wave pompadours, not too dated…and Triumph…
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Horse Trading
A fictitious Texan who lives somewhere up inside my head once said, “Wayell, comes a tahm in lahf when ev’r man has to part with his horse. Ain’t no use wellin’ up or gittin’ all senimenal ov’r’ it. Jes’ a fact a lahf. S’why the Good Lord invenned horse-tradin’. Obviously, the Good Lord hates an empty stable.…
Longitude & Gratitude 