I love my rides to work. Its 30 minutes up a winding canyon. Its so different than southern Utah. The desert is still my home, and will always be near and dear to me, but I’m enjoying this change.

I ride because I like to think, and having a 102 inch motor below my legs and the wind in my face seems to facilitate that. I don’t know why. Its just real. there’s no safety, there’s no windsheild or heater. whats going on outside is whats going on with me. I guess thats why some people love to hike or camp. I like riding.

The last 2 weeks have been good for me. I’ve found my rockability. I’m 44 years old, I’ve taken my share of hits, and I’m still standing.

I need to talk about my 2010. Its been on my mind a lot lately. Even as I type this, I don’t know how to describe it, other than fuck you 2010, you didnt beat me. I came through it. It showed me who I am, in a lot of ways.

If I were you, I’d be probably wondering what the fuck a 2010 is. I’ll try to explain, and not sound lame.

In 2010 I lost it. whatever “it” is…. that thing between your ears that tells you who the fuck you are and is your center, I lost that. For bullshit reasons. For being on a foundation that was half not true, and for certainly not tested. Mine got tested, and I discarded a bit, but I kept most of it, because most of it was pretty goddamn good.

I lost my business. I went broker than I’ve ever wanted to be. I tested my family with my mindset. I was lower than I thought I could ever be. I had no fucking clue who I was or what I should be.

I know now. From where I stand, I knew all along but didnt have the footing to enjoy it or see it. From where I stand now, I love the view, love the hike, and at the risk of sounding pretty arrogant I’m one strong motherfucker for having my mettle tested.

I’m sitting at that church in wallsburg again, on the back lawn in the shade. My wife is making lasagna tonight, and I’m taking 20 minutes to sum up my thoughts. This weekend I’m going to ride again, and gain my curiosity back and spend 2 days making 600 miles in undiscovered country. I can’t wait. I’ll take lots of pictures, and blog it if I can.

Life is pretty fucking good I tell ya.

I’m on a church lawn. Not because I’m religious, but because i’m almost to the place I say up here in Wallsburg utah and its the only place I can get enough bars to post on my blog.

I had some brilliant things to post, but they went away. So here I sit, on this lawn, dealing with all those jumpy little lawn bugs who seem to love getting inside your ears. thus far, I have kept them out.

Working in northern utah with my oldest brother. I am loving it. Making a difference, and in 3rd gear. At least I feel like I am making a difference. About to get into 4th gear here, and thats when It’ll feel good and feel like I’m doing right by him for the opportunity.

Think I’ll go riding this whole weekend instead of going home. Maybe up into northern Idaho, someplace I’ve never ridden. It’s time for a road blog. Just me, the street glide and my take on life. Life is good.

its been far too long since i’ve ridden anywhere. Sunday, that changes. I got a job deal in Salt lake city, and i’m taking it. Riding my bike, all day sunday. My fingers smell like oil, spent the day changing all my fluids so im ready. I can’t wait. I’m not looking past where I have to ride to.

Seems like that morning I got the call, my life has changed. It’s a strange feeling to realize, like so many have that I have no parents. Since then, I’ve been grateful to be busy and I have. It’s an honor to help settle my families affairs. Other than my name, its the last physical service I can do to honor them. I’m proud to say I’ve done it right and they’d be proud.

There was only one thing I really wanted from what’s left. Is my fathers chair. Remember Archie bunker? he had his chair, and so did my old man. I’ve known that chair since I was a kid. He watched his kids open Christmas presents, counciled us, scolded us and watched us play from that chair. It’s in my man cave now, and it means a lot. Mom bought well. I’ll pass it down to my kids.

The funeral is over, and yesterday was the first chance I’ve had to catch my breath and reflect a little.   I’m very proud mom made me and robyn executors of her will.   I hope we do her proud.   I’m going to make one more post about mom, but not today.   I had the honor to write her obituary and plan her funeral and it was an honor to work with my family.

Anyway, here’s her obituary.

Mary Dunn Olsen

1934 ~ 2011

Mary Dunn Olsen unexpectedly passed away Wednesday, April 20, 2011 in Heber City, Utah.

Mary was born March 29, 1934 to Linden and Ethel Belmont Tregeagle. After graduating from Provo High in 1953, Mary met Joseph Vern Dunn, and they were married in 1954 and later sealed in the Salt Lake LDS Temple. Mary spent most of her life in Provo, Utah where she raised 5 children and was very active in the LDS church and supported her husband in several businesses and church callings.

Mary had deep faith in her Savior Jesus Christ and accepted many callings ranging from Relief Society president to Sunday School Teacher. She put her heart into her faith which sustained her through many trials and magnified the joys in her life. If you knew Mary, you knew where she stood and her faith was a part of her daily life.

After Vern died in 1993, Mary threw herself into her passion for weaving. For 25 years, you would find her dedicated to weaving her “Persnikity Rugs, made from proud rags.”

In 2003, Mary reunited with her high school sweetheart Gilbert C Olsen and they were married that same year. They made their home in Heber City, Utah and enjoyed their life together.

Mary was one of a kind. You were always greeted with an enthusiastic smile, a funny story, and a warm conversation.

Mary always joked about a headstone she once saw, and said it was how she wanted to be remembered: “Here lies one tough old dame.” Mary, you were. We’ll miss you.

Mary is preceded in death by her husband Joseph Vern Dunn, her father Linden S Tregeagle, and her brother Thomas E Tregeagle.

She is survived by her husband Gilbert C Olsen, 5 children Michael Steven Dunn, Patrick Vern Dunn, David Scott “Skip” Dunn, Susan Kristine Dunn, Alan Trent Dunn, twenty-six grandchildren and sixteen great-grandchildren.

Funeral services will be held at 12:00 noon, Monday, April 25, 2011 at the Cobblestone Heber Ward, 1661 East 980 South, Heber City, Utah. Friends may call at the Berg Mortuary of Provo, 185 East Center Street, Sunday evening from 6 until 8 and at the church Monday from 10:30-11:45 a.m. prior to services. Interment, Heber City Cemetery.

Today, I got the call that my mother passed away. Sad day for me.

The writer in me has been thinking all of something poignant to write about her. As I sit here on my couch after a day of phone calls and initial arrangements, I am at a loss. She was a complex woman. She was my mother. She was a helluva good gal. Tomorrow I will meet with my family and make funeral arrangements and execute her will.

I will remember the good times. The times where she corrected and supported and listened to me as a youth, and the times we struggled together as a teen both good and bad (mostly good, Mom was the shit!) and for me to do the same for her as she got older, I got wiser and maybe I could give back by offering some encouragement to her and take care of her, as she took care of me when I was young. It hasn’t totally hit me yet. All I know is I’ll miss her.

She was alive till the day she died. Strong, proud and principled. She had her weaknesses, as we all do, but never made it your burden, even though you could see the weight in her eyes at some place that you knew she had to carry it alone. Time and experience told you she would. She was quick to laugh at your witticism, would carry your conversation if needed, and would act shocked when you told a dirty joke. I loved her. I feel I understood her.

Through that weight that maybe only family knew, she was a free spirit. She appreciated people with some character, and loved those that were interesting. Her heart was gold.

I moved to St George with her when I was 16 and had some really good times with her. She was there when I needed her.

Mar-bear, I’ll miss you. Thank god some of those genes passed on. I see em in my kids too. I love ya mom.

This is an old Statler brothers remake. Not a huge country guy, but this is a great song:

Its full on spring here. Weather is gorgeous. Looking forward to riding again hard soon. Still waiting for some things to line up that have been in motion for over a year now, and they’re really really close. I should know something next week. When they do, I’m moving the family to phoenix. For a lot of reasons. First, to be honest…. is to ride year round. 2nd, I’ve ridden everything, and I mean everything within 200 miles of here, and everything within interest of 500 miles of here. I need new roads. 3rd, to start over. I’m ready to rebuild and start some new things elsewhere. I like the challenge, and i’ve been here a long time. I think like the allman brothers song, I was born a ramblin man. It’s why my dad named me mr zip. I get bored pretty easy. 4th, I’m sick of utah. It’s great if you’re a mormon, but I’m not and its offered all its going to offer me.

I reflect on the last couple of years. Its been tough. Definitely a refiners fire. Everything has changed, and to be honest, the long continuous pressure of an entrepreneur got to me. I burned a few bridges, got a bit crazy and drank too much. I finally hit bottom and had to get my head right. I mention this, to be done with it, because I am done with it. I am poorer than I’ve been in years right now, but I have a helluva good life. I have some crazy ideas, a family that is behind me and is healthy, and my soul is strong. All i know, is I can handle a lot of shit…. shit that noone will ever fully understand but me. Thats how it should be.

I will tell you one thing i’ve been pretty proud of as of late…

This past year my 16 year old daughter has struggled with Anorexia. Its a pretty complex and scary disorder that had MrsZip and I up long nights. After all the doctors, therapists, school councilors and nutritionists, she pulled HERSELF out of it. She’s got the Dunn toughness, of which I’m very proud of. Its a mind fuck of a disorder. If you think you can force your teenager to eat, you’re a better man than me, because you cant. She was down to 70 pounds and was passing out several times a day. Scary shit to see happening to the little girl you love.

Anyway, she’s gained her weight back, turned full vegan on me, and exercising daily, doing yoga and ive never seen her so happy.

bla bla bla, back to motorcycling. Hopefully my next post is from the road.

This song was released in 1964. I was born 3 years later, but it was almost prophetic when it was released. Maybe Bob was just lucky. Life hands that out alot.

Route 66 is more than just an old road to me. I don’t think I’ve ever vocalized it, but its a lesson to me. It might always have been a lesson to me. The times change. We go on.

Robyn and I met Buster Burris in 1989, at the cafe table in Amboy California that he’d owned for years. Listened to his glory days and didnt realize then who he was at the time. Roy’s had seen the glory days of the road, and Buster had his heyday till he was bypassed in 1973. The times changed. Buster was in for a new lesson and lived on.

I first met Juan and Angel Delgadillo in 1989 as well. Seligman had been bypassed and cars on our saturday trip were not that frequent on our way to his empty restaurant. The times had changed for he and his brother. I love his lesson, that you can influence a change as well. I’ve been back several times over the years. Last time I saw Juan he was holding a stack of money as the tourists bought all they could from his shop, and Juan’s Kids carried his torch with the same smile Juan had. People are resilient.

I love the lesson. I think the times are a changin’ again, but people build. Its just in us. What we look at, we try and make better, be it a dirt road or an old town.

The Times, they are a changin.

remember the story of the grasshopper and the ants?

Wanna know the real story here? the truth is, the ants were boring. Hell, they bored each other. You can only count and re-count so many beans. We need ants, but ants need a grasshopper or two. They BEGGED the grasshopper to come in and entertain them. It can’t all be insurance seminars and excel spreadsheets.

There, go put your kids to bed and tell them that story. Grimm didn’t have a fucking clue.

When I was a kid, I thought california on the family trips was the coolest place in the world. Disneyland, beaches, stuff growing along the freeways, palm trees. I loved california.

In 1988 I moved there. To Long beach, specifically. I had a landscaping business there with a friend, worked a little, played a lot, bought my first motorcycle, and got the hell out of there. California, IMO is a shit hole. I think of california and I just think its dirty. I hate the helmet laws, the gun laws, and the other stupid laws that make business owners want the hell out of california. Its microchasm of everything I think is wrong with the US today.

Gimme an arizona saguaro cactus over a california palm tree any day. Arizona, for some reason has always felt like home. This month, I hope I can move my family to Phoenix. We’re all on board to go. I just need a little more dough, which Is in the works. I’ll get it.

Phoenix. Looking forward to starting completely over. Not because of anything wrong with Utah per se, but I like the adventure and new situations. Its like riding. Can’t wait.