Motorcycling
A Clean Getaway
I am worn out now, a staggering exhaustion at the end of a day on the road. All the motels in town are sporting “no vacancy” signs. I park my motorcycle to look around and settle on a strip of
Scotch Tape
SCOTCH TAPE? When I swing into a parking lot to turn around, my boot slides on loose gravel. My bike and I pitch to the left and over, my helmet hard against the asphalt. I kill the engine, crawl
A Good Run
Excerpt 4 from What Remains As much as I love words, I don’t experience life in complete sentences, especially on my motorcycle. Images and impressions mostly, that I try to make sense of later. These first miles are slow
Fear or Excitement?
Excerpt 2 from What Remains: Barbara’s breathing slows and softens. She slips into the deep sleep I want for myself. I do not follow her, adjusting and readjusting, trying not to wake her. I am desperate for the energy morning
While You Can
Excerpt 3 from What Remains: It’s moving up on ten o’clock. Time to get on my way if I’m going. I clean up the kitchen and pull on a boot, lace it up and pull on the other.
A Motorcycle Ride
Excerpt 1 from What Remains: At a weekly get together, I tell friends I will be away for a while. “Three, four weeks, a motorcycle ride. Get reacquainted with backroad America.” Several glasses stop short of open mouths.
