2 days riding with new friends.      A child ride, where I got the chance to meet an abused kid and promise I’d be there if they’d need me, and we all meant it.   A party at a BACA brothers house in Salt Lake City, where at one point we shut down the freeway educating some prick who decided he wanted to drive like an asshole, and a ride with new friends yesterday on a cancer ride.    Some things I’ll never forget.    People who are as solid as the day is long.    Its an honor to be a part of this chapter.

Its funny when you ride with people you trust, and know  how to ride.     It’s like the fucking blue Angels.    Riding tight and fast.

And there’s still a monday in the deck.    How good is that?    Got some baby back ribs seasoned up, and the smoker will fire up in an hour or so.    Making some baked beans,  hopefully some good ribs, and atomic buffalo turds (ABT’s).    Time with the family today.   Life is pretty damn good.

As much as I’d like to think I’m a lone wolf,  I’m grateful that I’m a part of the family that I was born into .     They knock the shit off the hard edges and sometimes push you to higher ground when you need it, even if I can’t see it at the time.    Its exactly how it should be.

Visiting a new BACA child today on a micro ride.    Always a good thing.   It makes me think, and at the same time helps out a kid who needs our help.   It’s time to give back, especially when you have something to give.

I just need to get this out:    Who gives a fuck what Miley Cyrus did?      At what point, did idiots become news, let alone conversation.

There, I feel better.    Lets Ride!

Its funny.   My kids are becoming adults.    We’ll see what happens.

From the very beginning, I think most parents try and spot a little of themselves in them.      Your wife, your grandfather you loved, whomever.     You try and see if they have your nose, or your wife’s eyes, and you tell people.    People tell you.

They grow up, and you see a little more.     At that point, its personal.    Or at least, it should be.

I’m pretty proud of my kids.    I see  parts that I don’t worry about, and parts I do.     My delusion is that I can help them through some of those parts.    Me,  And my wife, and my grandfather that I loved.   whomever.   Those experiences all have something to say.

End of the day, they’re going to forge their path, do a whole new thing and hopefully make you proud.

Yeah, I’m proud.   I got good kids.

Red Barchetta.    What a great song.   A little story in there….

Went riding this weekend.   Nothing huge, maybe 120 miles but raising money for a good cause.

Rode missus Zip home, and headed the 25 miles north up to my brothers house.  Drank some quality and shitty Scotch Whiskey, watched a few movies that meant something to both of us, reminisced, and talked philosophy.    Slept a couple of hours, and smoked a 9 pound brisket.    Took all day.

A fucking great weekend.

We nailed it.   We shoulda made two.

I washed  the bike, just after it rained.   I figure that’s like a finger to the gods of rain.       It was a month of road grime, and I still didn’t get it all.    The old gal needs to go down to the carwash methinks.

Looking forward to tomorrow.   Got the comfortable back seat and tour pak on for missus Zip, and tomorrow we ride.

My 18 year old daughter worked all summer doing double shifts, bought her own ticket and flew herself up to Vermont today to chase down her dream on her own dime.       I let her go.

I’m Pretty damn Proud of her.   She’s gonna make her mark.