The nasty nature of the news can’t penetrate our mutual bond of motorcycles, dirt-road adventure and campfire flames.
I think we’d been talking about it for years and Saturday seemed like as good a day as any to do it. We woke up in our tents after a night of rain and snow, but it wasn’t very cold. Thermos brought a trophy he scabbed together. It was made from old motorcycle parts and […]
I looked up at the figure in front of me. He towered, motionless, at least 20 feet above my head. He held an ax, as long as I am tall, in both his hands. I raised my camera for a picture, my left eye squinting through the viewfinder. “Folks in Bangor aren’t going to like […]
My power-deficient, 900-pound Russian motorcycle struggled to get all three wheels out of the darkness of the valley on Route 17 in Township D. As we crested the Height of Land, downshifting into second gear, the trees to the west gave way and so did the gloom. My eyes were treated to the glory of […]
As some of you already know, I belong to a Russian collective. I ride a sidecar motorcycle, made in Russia. It’s called a Ural. It’s not fast. It’s not high tech. Gezum crow, it doesn’t even have a gas gauge. But boy, oh boy, comrade, is it fun to ride, and fix and ride some […]
A leaden sky was spitting snow and the thermometer read 20 degrees when I mounted my Soviet Steed Saturday morning and headed for Cole Farms restaurant in Gray. I took the turnpike for expediency and the wind found every crack in my cold weather armor at 55mph. I was grateful for my heated gloves and […]
I left my house in Portland Friday at the crack of noon after packing and tying up some loose ends with work. I was to meet a couple of fellow sidecarists (Thomas and John) at the Phillips Memorial Preserve near Oquossoc later in the day. But first I had to ride to Bath to pick […]