I’ve made some great money in my work career, or whatever you call what I do.   I’ve had times I thought I needed to steal diapers, and months I’ve made 30 grand each month.

But this economy is brutal.   I am swinging for the fences with one hand, and downsizing with the other.   My kick ass dodge pickup is gone, and today I bought a 1999 saturn for 3 grand, but its mine.   Sold everything I have of value in order to keep my family going.   I know I’ll be on top again one day, maybe soon if plans go ahead.   I’ve also realized that I’m already on top where it counts:  My wife’s smile is as strong with an old saturn as it was with in the leather seats of my dodge truck.   Her hugs with my mattress on the floor is as real as it was in her 6 thousand dollar bedroom set.    She’s the most important thing In my life.   I love you Mrs Dunn.

We all know women who are so shallow that their status matters.   I wouldnt stay 5 minutes with those kinds.   I can barely talk to them now without telling them what I think.   So glad I don’t have that.   That shit isn’t even in my radar.

Lets rock and roll into old age and whatever life brings.    If I’m with you, everything else is a huge bonus.     I love you.

I love to write. My mind races most times, not in anxiety or in circles, but noticing things. My brain searches. Its made me notice things over my 43 years that alot of people don’t I think. For a long time, it was a curse, but ive come to learn that its a blessing.

When I was in high school (of which I was on the 5 year plan because I was expelled as a junior, and came back to finish at 18) I loved creative writing classes. I didnt know how to type, but I had a lot to say.   Creativity was also never really my problem.

At 40 I found out I liked to write. Like, writing was theraputic. I also learned to type in high school, and I found my racing mind can keep a thought long enough for me to type it. I’m glad I started a blog at some point, from notes I took from my first motorcycle rides I kept in a log/journal in 1989 on my honda magna.

Since then, I’ve thought about my dream job.    It’s writing.  I live in reality, and know that most writers starve and are supported by their women, or are single.   I can’t do that, but truth be told, I’d love to tell stories.  Documentaries of the old days, with research and accuracy.  With love, struggles and triumphs.   God, I’d love to write for a living.

Kurt Sutter is one of my heros.   not because he wrote sons of Anarchy, but because he thinks like I do.   He’s harsh, rough and can weave a story of all those things.

This is from his blog:   It fires me up.   Might never leave my thoughts, and might be my dying regret on my death bed.   I also might write every single day because It inspires me.

Ok, my daughter came and warned me about this. She was smart enough to know I shouldnt see it, but curiosity killed this cat.

Behold, I bring you Pure crap:

I’m still here, waiting for the music revolution. I want raw pure music again. The problem is, I think a lot of you like this. What the fuck have we become? I think I’ll go back to ignoring it. I don’t go clubbing, I wouldn’t know a rave if it bit me in the ass, and I sure as hell wished we had more guitars and drums. We need uglier people, making better music. Jim croce just turned over in his grave.

Ok, second thing wrong with the world today. Duck lips. When did girls all start doing duck lips? I’m all hip. I have a facebook page (add me), I listen to some alternative music (even some new stuff), but when in the fuck did women all start doing duck lips? Did girls start all thinking fornication was impossible if they didnt parse their outstretched lips at one point? Who started this? Surely you’ve seen it. Social networking is full of it. I am so glad my wife only does it to me and when she’s mocking duck lips. It’s her smile that I love. I am glad she doesn’t put duck lips on her facebook. In a wierd way, I think it means she loves me too. You girls are not all Kiera Knightley.

this song shoulda made my 10 top, a few posts ago. I’m a bit pissed I didnt think of it. I’d have bumped almost any one of those, other than zeppelin or the who, or stevie ray vaugn. Ok fuck, I’d have bumped amy grant or ELO.

I love Ska. Why did you leave? Ska, come back.

Wait, do you even know what a galaxie 500 is? If you don’t, or don’t even have the curiosity to google it, then stop reading my blog. Anything I have to say here will mean nothing to you. Go Search for brittany spears blogs, or something a mile wide and a half inch deep. Seriously, I don’t want you here. Motherfuckinggalaxy500.

What a great song. Preach on Reverend!

Ok, music world? Fuck yourself. We’re down to the point that we’re swallowing Ke$ha? I keep thinking of the heavy metal revolution where warrants cherry pie finally kicked out a Curt Cobains Nirvana (and I’ve got some thoughts on that too) or when the beatles finally hit america. What the fuck happened to music? I get it. Christopher cross was too ugly for MTV, even though that prick could sing. We’re eating packaged foods here. Its like McNuggets that arent chicken, but the market needs conveneience and packaging. Is anyone else noticing this too?

So heres 10 of my songs, with reasons why. It’s bullshit that I have to post them. These are in no particular order, they’re just the songs that have seemed to last, even if I listen to them once every few years or more. Some more.

One:

Thats right. Its not teenage wasteland, its Baba O’ Reily for those in the know. What a great song for crossing a desert on a harley, or sitting in your living room when you just need some Rock N’ Roll. I always come back to it. Listen to what Pete is trying to do here, with a synthesizer, years before they became popular. Roger is slinging it out of his soul. He knows, and you do too. It’s why you mistake it for teenage wasteland instead of Baba O’ Reily. Hot damn, this is good.

Two:


Amy grant. I used to be a christian, and as uncomfortable as I know that may make a lot of people, using the word “I used to be”, I cant deny that this is a great song or the value of used-to-being. I didn’t throw it all away. The video is campy and a bit too easy, but it makes a connection, at least for me. Also, a lot of good memories of living in Maryland. The bitch can sing. Stay for a while.

Three:


Led Zeppelin. This for me, is the best of the best. I listen to this, when the fire grows low. Beethoven or bach had shit on a jimmy page in stride. Wow. I really love this song. helped me kick through a few tough times in college. “it isnt hard to feel me glowing, I’ve watched the fires that grew so low…” I don’t know who wrote the lyric, but the guitar in this is just beautiful, and I don’t know shit from shinola. Wow Jimmy, I want to stand up and applaud.

Four:


If you can’t feel that, your wick is wet. Hendrix originally played this, but SRV made this bitch cry and sing. Wow. It might be what jimmy page was trying to say with his guitar the whole time. I really love this song. It twists my mind and head around its so good. SRV did something with a guitar here that makes a prick like me, who’s only taste is in his mouth, notice. whoah, I’m listening to it as I type, and it’s blowing my mind.

Five:


This is pretty honest. “you’re asking me if my love grows, I don’t know, I don’t know”. When I take into account all that was happening with the Beatles: they made one last album, knowing it was going to be their last. Like a tribute to 10 years of friendship, and parting ways afterward. The irony…. of a McCartney/Lennon songwriting duo that may never be challenged ever, and George harrison whipping out this beautiful harmony and lyric. More wow. What a great song.

Six:


Another favorite. Reminds me of living in a 15 foot trailer in Long Beach California in 1988, before I donned the responsibilty that I craved and still shoulder to this day, and will till I die. Happily. This was the song that made Sgt Pepper. Brian Wilson had no idea that he owned the music world and inspired a revolution that the beatles got all the credit for. It raised the bar, and I’m not being all that dramatic about this. Ask Paul McCartney, he’ll tell you about the most beautiful song ever written.

Seven:


I was a few years late in 1979 listening to Rocket to russia, it came out three years earlier. Mark Stevens bedroom. The clash and the sex pistols as well. When I heard it, I knew shit hand changed for me. I spent the next 10 years listening to punk rock. Thank you ramones.

Eight:

Thats right, Xanadu. I’m not trying to be tough here, because no matter how I twist it It won’t get pulled off. I love ELO. Always really loved ELO. They’d peaked by this point, adding Cellos to rock and roll, and found a synthesizer, but this movie about olivia newton John as one of Zeus’s muses giving a guy inspiration, well… it inspires me. Lots of good ELO. They had a great run. I just kinda dig this song, and always seem to find it again over the years.

Nine:

After the ramones, I found black flag. Jason neighbors, who turned out to be one of the best guys I’ve ever known had this in VHS and we used to watch it and drink Mickey big mouths hanging out in his trailer. Try and stop us, its no use. This song represents an era.

Ten:


Roxette. Something about these guys I like. Passionate lyrics and pop hooks. Always liked em. Reminds me so much of doing road trips with Robyn when we were first married across deserts at night in our red mercury lynx, and being in brand new love. I still follow these guys, even if the albums arent released in the US now. The guy can write music, and this chick has pipes. I love roxette.

Just 10 songs. I’m sure i’m missing some, like boston’s “more than a feeling” and the who’s “behind blue eyes” or some punk song etc etc, but these are the ones off the top o’ my head tonight.

I don’t like much modern music. I don’t know whats much to like. I like the older stuff, mostly because listening to some playa tell me about how he’s this or that, or some ho tell me the same makes me want to upchuck. There’s gotta be some value to music, thats half the point. The other half is a beat and a rhythm.

But I like this guy. This song is cool. It’s got both. Plus my 16 year old daughter can sing this like crazy and it makes me smile when she sings it while making me laugh.

Plus, when it comes down to it, I’d do the same for missus Dunn. Life isn’t so dramatic tho. Truth is, it doesn’t come down to dying for what you love, it comes down to living for it. Working for it. Its the thing that makes it consistent and work. My wife teaches me that more than any soul. This song is for you baby. And, you do do the same. I love you. I’m not sure what I give you, but it’s the thing you give me. Day to day.

I forget how it is. Sometimes, it comes back to me. Why I Ride. The memories of old rides. The road itself.

The waking up in the morning, usually alone, sometimes with friends who can get away or have the nut sack to venture more than a couple hundred miles. It’s not that I want to wake up alone. It’s usually the opposite. I just don’t want to drag anyone there to appreciate what I think is beautiful.

I’ve had a few rides that i’ve shared. I took my daughter wendy on one. We rode though utah, arizona, new mexico. We found a moment that I’ll always remember and I hope she does too. Where we sat by a fire, talked and opened up. I learned about her. We rode home the next morning, beating the cold and listening to the eagles in the mountains, doing 80 and were home by 3PM from 2 states away. I’ll always remember that. I hope she will too.

An open sky is the best. You usually wake up early, sleeping by your bike, with daylight hitting your eye lids. I love that. It meant you rode hard yesterday, and camped when you were exhausted. Or couldnt find a town, let alone a room. You always have a plan of some sort, whether its a national park, a place on the map, or a tree for shelter up ahead in your headlight. Yeah, I love those ones the best.

but a planned ride isnt so bad either. Usually a KOA where you know you just need to find the tent spots, because the proprietor isnt going to be up and you know you just have to pay in the morning. You’re sheltered by the tent from the sun, so mornings are usually the habit of what you’re used to, only better better because you’re on the road. Unzip the tent, crawl out, sit on the picnic table and wonder where you’re going to find coffee while you admire the contrast between what you rode in on last night, to what you actually see as reality today. These are good days. They usually mean a full saturday of an adventure on the road, or the quickest route home. Either one, you know you’ll mozy as much as time will allow, and enjoy it the most.

The motel is good too. Sometimes its a hampton, with a continental breakfast. Sometimes its a long lost 1950s motor court that you need to use your imagination on. To imagine what it was, versus what it is now. The Hindu proprietor when you check in or out, who usually could give a fuck for the history must be overcome to complete the fantasy. Either way, you get a shower, some sort of continental breakfast, and a cup of coffee while you take in the local news on a TV you don’t completely understand how to run. Those are good days as well.

What happens after all of these things is constant. It’s the checking on the bike. If its a hampton, I’ve parked the bike in the light by the entrance. I usually don’t ask if they want me to do that. Fuck that. 20,000 dollars plus on a bike, I’ll park it where I want. The tent or open air camping my bike isnt more than 10 feet away. I make sure of that. No matter how you spend that night, you check on your bike first. it’s like your kids. You have to know its OK.

I usually go out and start her up. I know she’ll start. She’s locked, and ready for the day just like I am. It doesn’t matter if its august or march, the morning is usually brisk and cold. God I love that. I miss that. I pull out of the motel/KOA/side o the road and take a breather to decide my day. Sometimes hitting the kill switch to take the morning in.

Of all the times of the day, of the year, of my life: this is the best. I live to ride. This is usually a saturday. Riding hard on a friday, making time to get to a destination so I can have this moment. Riding all night, and crashing in a place that was decided on friday morning, or sometimes 30 minutes before the bike shut off. This morning moment, where I decide where my front tire is going to point to. I have googled this morning, to know some options, but its now I decide. I love this part of the day. Of all my life decisions…. this is the best. It’s all good. The consequences are mine, and not driven by what WONT happen, or what worries me. They’re driven by the ride that I know is going to fill up my soul. I’ve planned it all this way. For this moment and day.

God. Where am I going to go? I Can’t wait.

This is shit I can’t explain to anyone. This is shit that gives me a month, or a lifetime of mojo. I don’t know if anyone understand this but me. its why I ride. It’s why having a motorcycle isnt enough. It’s why riding around town isn’t enough. why I bought a bagger. It’s why the person who understands this is a brother or sister for life. I know some of you pricks are out there. This moment. If you tour, some of you know what I’m talking about.

I need to go ride.

I need to get out why, after 3 years I turned in my B.A.C.A. patch.

First, I believe in the cause. I stand by my belief that children are the only innocent things in the world. They deserve more than what they get most times, and they always need to be protected, be it from passing traffic or pedophile fucks.
You have the same action in all those decisions, you do it without question, and without thinking about it, let alone second guessing it. For me, that hasn’t changed. For Robyn either. Kids are the only innocent thing in the world. They need adults to keep them safe. B.A.C.A. had a physical and time test to see if I was worthy of that, and I’m glad I passed it. But at the end of the day, kids see through bullshit. Abused kids have a radar, that sees through even a BACA back patch. They scan you for survival, and they only trust what is going to keep them away from abuse. Sometimes, even that is not enough.

Kids need an influence, abused or not from outside their family. Family is the base, no matter what it is, but an outside influence really sticks if that influence is right.

I left BACA, because …. I am not a joiner. But, I also still need BACA. I just….I wasn’t born to follow. I have a very…. er, extremely low tolerance for bullshit. All Organizations are full of varying degrees of bullshit. I don’t care what organization you’re talking about. I have a problem with rules that are not my own, for better or for worse. It’s my hang up, I get that. I suppose I could talk about that for hours and devote a whole blog to that alone.

I left BACA also for my family. I was drained. I had to shed something. I am more than what I was being. I wasn’t what I once was, and I Liked what I was. I like what I am. I like the brothers I met, and the ones I still call brothers. At the end of the day, I couldnt shake the question: What if I put the same effort into my family as I did this organization? I have 3 beautiful daughters who are counting on me. I don’t know that I’m the guy who can do both. or nothing kind of guy.

All I know so many who are doing it all. I have nothing but admiration for those who I see keeping those balls in the air, and who do it all. I wasn’t that guy. I’m an introspective guy who loves riding, loves his wife and family, loves building and describing things. I know a few of those guys.

Drifter, from Moab – A person with country wisdom, and a helping hand for anyone and recognizes truth when he sees it and holds on, no questions.

Little T from Price – a family man who sees it as it comes, and handles the same.

Slurpee from Tooele. A survivor with an axe to grind, and friendship to those who need his help. A self made man who keeps it all in balance. A natural leader I think. A guy to party with for sure.

Sticks from Maricopa- a man who recognizes friendship but cuts through bullshit with a sharp knife. Pick up a knife with him, and you have a friend for life. He will be there with you, knife in hand. Much love to stick, and his wife dimples. Good people there. Maybe the best I know.

Nails from St George. Been to the puppet show, and seen the strings. Fights in all things, keeping his wife of 30 years in balance and his loyalties sharp. A good friend if you are so lucky to know him. I’m lucky to know them both.

Chef from TN. Steady and true. Casual, but if he sees something not honest or right, he will tell you and make it right, no matter the personal cost.

Cowboy from Yuma. Huge heart. Small town boy working an international process, but knowing whats right. A trouble maker!

Boomer and Beezer: the only cops I’ve ever liked. God knows I tried not to, but got won over. Heart as big as the 2nd biggest county in the nation he is seargant over, and the slow wisdom that comes from discretion and experience. I love you 2. Best 2 people in our chapter.

Little Guy: Enthusiasm and happy to be there, no matter where he is. By your side through thick and thin, because he is who is is. Its WHO he is. Glad you met a woman with your values and is solid bro!

Shots – he will run to a friends help. I know few like you.

There are also some, I’d like to punch in the throat and choke you out. Very few though. One or two. You’re in, because you know the right people, but you’ll avoid the conflict when the conflict counts. BACA is not about the stance, its about the shield. If you can’t be that eventually, you’re exposed. I know eventually, you’ll be. I suspect you’ll screen your calls.

I met the finest of BACA. There are more. Guys who will pick up the phone at 2 am, jump on a cold bike and ride 4 hours because they got the call. Guys who would INSTINCTIVELY jump in front of a bullet to protect a kid, even though they could have a doubt. I rode with many of you. I did level 2’s with some of you.

So why would I leave?

Maybe I’m not that guy. I think I am. I’ve been on level 2s that I was ready to do what was neccesary to protect a kid or two. the kind where you’re not lying to yourself. I still think I’m that guy. Dying in the line of protecting an innocent child is in me. I got to see the puppet show, and I saw the strings. All puppet shows have strings, and I hate strings. Being a supporter in Bikers Against Child Abuse is an honor. I can still ride with these men, pull up to a house, get on one knee, look that kid in the eye and tell them I’ll do whatever it takes and be there for them. I can also not give a shit about the strings. To me, its the best of both worlds. Maybe I am not a commitment guy, on that level. To me, I brushed aside the strings and can still keep the eye to eye, where it counts. We’ll see if that happens.

I am who I am. I know who I am. I like what I see. To those brothers I mention, and more I haven’t met: You are fucking MEN. Nothing but respect and love. NOTHING BUT. You will do what you have to do, colors or not. it’s in you. Time will tell, no matter what I say or do, if thats in me. Give me the chance to prove it, colors or not. You’re either against child abuse or you’re for it. You either ride towards the problem, or you stay home.

At the end of the day, I won’t be tangled in the strings. Fuck that. My life is too short, and I have no patience to explain it if you don’t understand. I just have never wanted it that bad. I don’t need a patch however, to tell you with all my conviction, as a father, as a guy who loves riding: NO CHILD DESERVES TO LIVE IN FEAR.

It wasn’t about the patch. It was about the kids. Straight up.

If you don’t believe me, then fuck off. I honestly don’t care.

I need BACA. I just needed a few other things more. I’m glad its there.

New favorite song. Video reminds me of some of the old towns I’ve passed through on Route 66, and the song is just good too. been in my head for a few days.

The moon was shinin’ on the lake that night.
The Slayer t-shirt fit the scene just right.
Through smeared mascara, I looked into your eyes and saw a light.
You told me stories about your chickadees
They didn’t like BB guns or stupid archery.
The jumbo lifeguard, he let them use the pool all day for free.

Then the conversation stopped and I looked down at my feet.
I was next to you and you were right there next to me.
Then I said, “Girl, if you’re wondering if I want you to, I want you to.
So make the move. Cause I ain’t got all night.”

The rest of the summer was the best we ever had.
We watched Titanic and it didn’t make us sad.
I took you to Best Buy, you took me home to meet your mom and dad.
Your mom cooked meatloaf even though I don’t eat meat.
I dug you so much I took some for the team.

Your dad was silent. His eyes were fixed to what was on TV.

Then the conversation stopped and I looked down at the ring.
Your folks were next to you and you were right there next to me.
Then I said, “Girl, if you’re wondering if I want you to, I want you to.
I swear it’s true. Without you, my heart is blue.
Ooohwhoa Girl, if you’re wondering if I want you to, I want you to.
So make a move. Cause I ain’t got all night.”

So much pain may come our way.
There may come a day when we have nothing left to say.

When the conversation stops and we’re facing our defeat.
I’ll be next to you and you’ll be right there next to me.
Then I’ll say, “Girl, if you’re wondering if I want you to, I want you to.
I swear it’s true. Without you my heart is blue.
Ooohwhoa Girl, if you’re wondering if I want you to, I want you to.
So make a move. Cause I ain’t got all night.”

Lots has happened lately. I stepped down from VP of my BACA Chapter, and a week later turned in my patch, so I’m now just at supporter status. Long story, but my family and work had to come first and had to make a decision. BACA is a big commitment, and I couldn’t juggle it all. My time there was the best, and made great friends I’ll count as brothers forever.