Musings from one who writes, and rides…
Thirty-five years ago I went on a date with this cute hippie chick I met at school. It was (surprise!) a bicycle date. Within minutes, she had a flat tire. Of course, in those days, neither of us carried a tube or pump. So, in a remarkable act of youthful naiveté, we flagged down a…
This article was originally published in the BMW MOA Magazine. The other day a big truck pulled up to my garage, and my 1969 Triumph went off to a new, unseen owner known only to me by his eBay handle: LOVE_OIL_LEAKS. Or something like that. All told, in the last year or so, I’ve sold…
Lake Florence is not large, maybe three miles around, and though there is no trail, you could complete the wobbly circle with one half day of steady walking and a strong case of poison oak, the thin line of boils a persistent reminder of your exploits. Don’t ask me how I know this. It has…
What drives social media at the Monterey Bay Aquarium? There are plenty of things—like our animals, exhibits, events, and conservation efforts. But more than anything else, it’s the power of Aww. What’s Aww? It’s nothing less than the universal currency of social media. You know: kids under sedation after a dentist visit. Talking dogs. And…
In Paxton, winter relinquished its hard grip on the land slowly, the bony fingers of the season unfurling to reveal the mud beneath. What was uncovered belied the stark beauty of the other seasons—there was only tenacious, axle-deep mud on the narrow roads, and the nakedness of the trees awaiting the mysterious spring messages to…
When you sit down to create social media content, who are you writing for? I’m writing for Sue. She’s imaginary, of course, but she’s as real to me as my next-door-neighbor. And I think about her every time I create a piece of content for the Monterey Bay Aquarium Facebook page, Google+ page, or Tumblr…
This article was originally published in Motorcyclist Magazine. Last summer, feeling bold, I asked my wife if she might be interested in taking a guided motorcycle tour of the Dolomite mountain range in Italy. I ask questions like this periodically to test the bounds of what is possible—in the same way one might ask for…
The summer of 1969 stretched out endlessly, with days spent swimming in the small, unthreatening waves of Long Island Sound, family dinners in the backyard, and stick-and-ball sports played on the sticky macadam of our neighborhood streets. Steamy hot Connecticut evenings were spent with my ear pressed to a transistor radio, memorizing top-40 songs on…
Sometimes I consider myself an athlete. Nothing spectacular, mind you, but dedicated in my own way. When it comes to bike racing, I’m not the strongest guy in town. But I’m not the weakest, either. I’ve also had more than my share of sports injuries. And I mean that literally. I’m counting more than a…
Note to self: avoid shopping on eBay Motors late at night, after several glasses of red wine. The results can be embarrassing. Witness the 1970 Honda Z50 minibike now occupying a dusty corner of the garage. In the pantheon of irrational motorcycle purchases, this is surely one of my most infamous. Visitors justifiably ask if…