So I’m sitting here on a Sunday Morning in small town Arizona, Drinking motel Coffee and enjoying the morning. Pretty fucking hard to beat. My bike is outside, fueled up and ready to go.

I just need to decide which way to go. Yeah, perfect.

Yesterday was a killer ride. I kinda needed it. You forget how much you need a good ride sometimes, and the only way to remember is to get out there and find a good long road. Then, it all comes back.

US 191 in Arizona is a killer road, I think one of my favorites. Its got a little of everything; Starts out in the desert and climbs up into the pines. Some history, some good terrain.

I left around 8. It’s nice to have 4 days off, and the thought of a new road some time to see a new thing was exciting. The weather was abnormally perfect for riding for this part of Arizona, and hardly a cloud in the sky. I twisted the throttle, and just enjoyed the hell out of the ride.

Not a ton of traffic, which made this road nice. Even on Memorial Day weekend.

My coffee is finished, so I’m getting the hell out of here. I was gonna head west toward Fort Apache and then home, but fuckit…. I’m doubling back. There’s a road that goes up the same mountain on the New Mexico side.

1 day, 1 State, 311 Miles.

Life has been good lately. Last month I was the top salesman in the company, my family has been doing well and the weather in Arizona has been abnormally cooler than most people can remember. It’s also Memorial day weekend. I took another day off on Tuesday for good measure.

Time to go scout the perimeter. Curiosity, killed this cat.

I’ve been a lazy blogger the last couple of years, missing long stretches of rides… I’m going to repent and do this one from the road.

My list of Arizona roads I haven’t hit yet is getting shorter, and I finally want to go explore highway 191 on the east side of the state. I went to do it a couple of months ago, but ended up going to New Mexico instead.

I’ll see you pricks on the road.

Kinda funky, with just a hint of danger. Enjoy!

I’m not going to dive into this shit too deep, but if you’re a man, just… be a man.

Meaning: #1 Take responsibility. That’s what being a Man is all about. For success, for failures.

Protect the ones you love. Their thoughts, their feelings. Their safety. Protect what you’re responsible for. See #1 if that doesn’t make any sense.

Listen; Your wife is smarter than you are, most times. She can sense a thing, before you even know that it’s coming. Yeah, listen to her. Sometimes she doesn’t know what she’s talking about, but her instincts are always good. Like, Always.

Your job is to protect the family, and to get them moving forward. Your wifes job is make shit right. You can rest assured she will.

Be honest. Be ethical. Ethics an honesty supersede everything. It’s what people look back on, and honor; Exactly what you want.

Also: Grand kids are effing awesome. It’s a chance to sit back, and see what you taught, and then see how it worked. If you did it right, the apple really doesn’t fall far from the tree. Maybe a chance for you to adjust as well, who knows.

Just, be a Man.

Yeah, I think I’m getting old.

I’ve started noticing that the young people around me, when they’re talking about something old, the shit they’re describing I remember pretty clearly in my teens. I think the old guy they’re describing is me.

Oh well. I barely care.

I wouldn’t trade it for a thing. I’ve seen some shit, and lived through it and came out the other side. Old is just a number. I’m a 25 year old 50 something.

It’s nice to see the world as it is: I have no illusions. I’ve been to the puppet show, and I’ve seen the strings. The challenge is, working with people who still think there are no strings. I’ve found that honest people can spot bullshit a mile away. I gravitate to those people.

I’m just spitting out a post here, giving a random thought. I should stop now.

It’s good being older. You’ll see when you’re old.

Been into a little Billy Gibbons lately. Good music on the way to work. This is from 2015, and some of his 2018 stuff is fairly jammin as well. A little latin influence on this one, but heart set in the blues.

Plus, you gotta treat your girl right.

I likey.

A couple of weekends ago, I pointed the bike toward a dot on the map in New Mexico, just to get out and ride. Lordsburg was the plan.

I just needed a ride. Work has been stressful and I’ve been pushing myself, and a good overnight ride can clear out a lot of bullshit. I’m not gonna lie; I just needed to see a new thing and get a new perspective. I was in a bit of a knot.

The Phoenix valley has been unusually cool this year, but its starting to warm up and the weather has been really nice. I headed out around noon on Saturday, and headed east toward Globe AZ.

I took a picture of the sign and tried to look around for a sign of a dangerous motorcycle, and someone came out. I was ready to give my fuck-you’s and education about public domain and private property, but I was wrong. The guy was completely cool, and opened the gate and gave me the invite in;. He unlocked the gate. The guy was completely gracious and friendly.

He rolled open the door to his shop, and showed me his bikes, which he’d been building from the ground up for years; Blown small and big block chevy V8’s. Original Harley parts and custom frames he’d built on his own Jig. Huge drag slicks in back. He’d built dozens of these.

This man was the real deal.

I wanted to know more, but I had to head out. I had to get to New Mexico, but somehow i’d felt that an hour in, this was gonna be the best part of my trip.

It seems to me, that if you get a little curious and get out there, you’ll never know what you’ll find.

I hit Globe and headed east toward New Mexico. It had gotten a bit chilly, but the ride was beautiful. My bike was stretching her legs, and so was I; up on a freeway peg and enjoying the wind.

I stayed the night in New Mexico, and rode back the way I came.

There’s a few pics on my instagram I didn’t include here.

Really nice ride. They always are.

2 days, 2 states, 500 miles.

I think the whole world labors under the delusion that everyone has got it figured out, 100% of the time. They don’t.

We’re humans. We live and fail, and we succeed. We push things forward; and we push things back, in our own little worlds.

My father told me this quote: I love it. right now, I think it sums things up for me:

“I am not dead, sir Andrew Cried; I’m hurt but I’m not slain. I”ll just lie here and bleed a while, then I’ll rise and fight again…”

I’ve been through a whole lotta shit. Victories and losses; There is always the next opportunity.

You just gotta rise, and fight again. I’m bummed out now, but I”ll rise and fight again. There is no other way.

I think it’s why I love riding. You go to the next town, see another thing. See what’s over the next rise.

Rock the hell on.

I had some plans this morning — I need to finish this book and edit some of the stories that have been sent to me for this Easy Rider thing. I also needed to change the oil in my bike, which has been delayed way too long.

I got the news that my 107 year old Grandma had passed away.

107 is a helluva shift. She’s seen more things that I can comprehend. She was born in 1911; the wright brothers had just barely flown, women would soon get the right to vote; World war one. World War Two. Man flew on the moon.

The funny thing about Ethel Tregeagle, is she never talked about these things. I’d ask her about them, and she’d barely have a recollection of the times.

Yet, she could tell you a story about things she experienced in those times. Those memories were sharp. Even to the end.

She was the strongest woman I’ve ever seen. Ethel just did her thing, always. I don’t think she had an ounce of introspection. Things just were what they were.

She’d own the moment, and didn’t care if you tried to take it over. Grandma Tregeagle was doing her thing. Man, she was one of a kind. I’ll miss her.

I can see her in some of my kids; and it scares the hell out of me, yet it also makes me proud. I think a combination of what she was has been passed down, and I’m glad my family got some of it.

Yeah, strength… Ethel Tregeagle had that in droves.

Hell, 107. The anchor of my family, maybe more than she gets credit for.

It’s breaking me up more than I care to admit right now, but some of that my inner Ethel Tregeagle gene will kick in soon enough, and I’ll power it out.

I’m going to feel this. RIP Grandma Tregeagle. And Thank you.

I’m also going to go finish draining my oil.