My New Mexico Adventure. Aka, I'm a Gawddamn Roadside Warrior. #wrench

I left Lone Grove at 8pm, and drove all night towards Carlsbad, NM.  I got in at about 3am.  I ducked into the shadows of a Chevron gas station, and I rolled into the bed of the truck.  I made use of an empty water jug and dumped the contents out the back window, before crawling into my sleeping bag with my boots on.  Now, I knew my feet would be swampy, but I wanted to be ready to jump at a moments notice.  Small town politics kept me more at a state of unrest, on the edge of ready all night, with the sound of cars driving by just feet to my left, up and down the main drag, and an occasional customer filling their tank.  I set my alarm for 6am. 

When my alarm went off, I sprung into action.  The sky was just getting some slim hints of light to it, and the roadways were packed with work trucks, country trucks, and I knew there was some industrial work drawing the town to life.  Disheveled as usual, and under slept, I just stood in the middle of that convenient store trying to figure out my next move.  Diner, I wanted a diner.  Turns out the diner I wanted, wasn’t open until 11am, and I couldn’t complain about it, cause it was called the “No Winer Diner.”  How suitable.  I drove toward the edge of town closer toward the caverns, and a taco truck caught my attention.  “A burrito will be nice and fast” I said aloud to nobody.  I waited for oncoming traffic to pass, and I pulled left into its makeshift parking area.  The morning was cooler than Oklahoma had been, because I was up in that middle to high New Mexico desert.  

So there I was…getting back into my truck, when I smelled something funny.  I swung the door back open, popped the hood, and looked for any funny stuff.  My radiator bottle was full up.  And I could see some spillage.  “Oh man.”  I immediately looked up the nearest auto parts store, 1.9 miles back in the direction I’d just come.  When I pulled up they were closed, so I inspected the engine a bit closer, and you know what I saw?  I saw a split alternator belt.  yep, the whole thing had just gone up and split in two. That would explain why my things just weren’t working all that well.  Right then and there I set my sights on changing my belts, and before you'd know it, I was well into misadjusting my pulleys and getting those belts off.  Grease and dirt and wrenching are my friends, so I was in my natural habitat.  Soon after they’d opened, I was in there, a handsome ball of grease and parking lot gravel, with my old belts in hand, and walking out with my new ones.  Within minutes I'd gotten them all on and adjusted to Toyota specs, a highly scrutinous process.  I poured what had over flowed into the bottle, back into the radiator.  And I was back on the road by 9:30 am.  Everything seemed fine.  

Carlsbad Caverns was a couple miles off the main road, so I took that short stroll up to the mountain top, and walked around inside their museum and displays.  Their elevator into the cave was broken, so I had to vow to come back on another trip and do the 3+ hour hike.  Once again I was off on the road, heading towards Phoenix, my destination for the day, and where I’d spend the next few days having a good time.  I was motoring along for a couple hours in the dead zone in and out of New Mexico and Texas territory, where there’s no cell service, and I was relinquished to the limited iTunes selection on my phone, plus there were no Truckers on any of the CB channels to listen to.  Up ahead I could see this huge steep mountain hill that seemed to come out of nowhere, but I had to climb it to get out of that flat zone.  And wouldn't ya know, that as soon as I started to climb that steep mountain hill, the truck started overheating.  Now, this was the first time in it’s entire life that it had ever overheated, and I was super bummed.  I knew I had to get that needle down below the red F, so I slowed the rpms, and climbed as slowly as I could, not putting any stress on that engine.  As soon as I got to the crest, I pulled into a lookout parking lot.  Figuring there was something that needed adjusting, I popped the hood, checked the belts and because they were new, I gave them a tiny little tighten.  Now, I figured they didn’t cost much, so if one of them blew I could just put some new ones on again.  

        The truck had cooled down by this point, and the rest of the way to the next town was downhill, so I’d just ease the truck to the nearest gas station.  I picked up a bottle of coolant, thinking that the truck fluid was actually low, and as soon as I made an old coffee cup into my new funnel, boy did my radiator guzzle that fluorescent green liquid. So I started getting curious about the radiator.  I got back on the highway, and before I knew it the needle was heating again.  This time I pulled over at the New Mexico welcome center, and I called my dad.  Cause he’s always my favorite car person, and makes everything better.  I decided in that parking lot, of adobe shelters over concrete picnic tables that I had to change my coolant completely.  I dumped out the contents of straps and bungee cords from a bucket I kept in the truck.  I found the radiator drain, used the coolant overflow tube as an attachment to the petcock, and let all that old rusty brown coolant flow into that bucket.  I then poured the rest of that new coolant gallon into the radiator and then ran the truck (with the cap off) to let it normalize and flow easier into the compartments of the radiator.  That’s the trick. 
       I never waste an opportunity to be a good tourist, so being as I graciously took liberties in their parking lot,  I decided a little spin inside the visitor center would be mighty right.  I went ahead and signed the visitor center book (always).  I also grabbed some free literature on "New Mexico Tourism", mainly cause there was a picture of some snow skiers on the front, and part of this trip I was on was all about the skiing.  I gave the woman attending the visitor center a synopsis of my trip and the way my morning had gone, and she obligingly told me there was a gas station 10 miles in the direction I was headed, so down the road I slowly went.  The needle kept teasing the heat line.  I kept the engine low and slow all the way to the gas station.  I parked right in front, went inside and bought a nice looking bottle of coolant, the 11 dollar kind. I topped the truck up, and ran the motor, same thing (cap off).  Then I let it cool down, and I added some more.  The truck was having some trouble starting each time, because basically, slowly over the course of the last couple days, since the belts were so busted, the alternator wasn’t doing its job of recharging the battery.  And well, I had to get some good driving on her to really get her back up to operating efficiency, so the truck was just slowly cranking, and I had to give her gas every time.  
        After I topped the truck up for the last time, the dude who was leaning against the wall, looking like he either wanted to help, or throw me into his van, walked defeatedly off toward a far part of the parking lot, as soon as I closed the hood, and locked the truck to head into the store for one last round of resources before I braved the road again.  (I feel like I really dodged a bullet with that one).  

I pulled onto the road way, and gradually gained speed down the onramp, onto the highway, watching that thermostat needle ever so carefully for the slightest move past middle.  Nothing.  Not a budge.  In fact it stayed middle for a whole 3-4 hours of normal driving speeds.  I was home free.  Problems solved.  But then....I had just reached Picacho Peak in AZ, when my dad called me back, and I couldn’t wait to tell him the good news.  “Dad guess what? …..Oh, no!  wait!  Never mind.  Dang!”  The needle had started climbing toward the H line.  Most of my disbelief came from the fact that the needle had stayed middle until both Picachu Peak and My dad had called.  I couldn’t believe the coincidence.  I didn’t know if I should blame the spirits of Picacho, or the fact that my truck didn’t want me to give my dad any good news.  I pulled over at the nearest station.  The whole station was empty, except some accommodating overhead lights.  Though I still had to put my head lamp on to inspected the engine.  Dry.  Not a lick of coolant could be seen, so no over-flow problems, but the radiator top felt unnaturally cool.  Turns out the thing was really low, and thus the coolant wasn’t flowing in the upper compartment of the radiator as a result.  I looked around the bottom of the truck for any signs of leak.  Nothing but a puddle of my pee.  No immediate radiator drips to be seen.  But then I did noticed that my drive line was showing signs of immense wetness.  So I deduced that to radiator fluid leaking slowly as I drive. I spent the rest of my coolant on filling the radiator, and I headed to the next nearest "open" station for another bottle to top it off.  The bottles kept getting more expensive the closer I got to Phoenix.  Something to do with supply and demand I guess. Visuals of those pesky graphs from business school flowing through my mind. 

As I drove the slow 60mph just 50 miles outside of Phoenix, I got pulled over by a cop, who was nice enough to tell me that both my license plate lights were out, and that the ball hitch I had mounted was an obstruction, and he couldn’t really read my plate.  We had a friendly banter.  And then he ran my license, just you know, because, and I wasn’t much worried about anything, being a good citizen and all.  Then I answered “No” to all questions about drug transportation, and before you could say the alphabet backwards I was back on the road.   

I arrived at about 1am, backed into the driveway, grabbed my giant green sleeping bag, and found the couch.  It was a glorious arrival, and much awaited slumber. 

True your spokes.

Is this the ending of another era?  Not until, I come home.  Not until I take flight, and everyone finds me alive on the west coast.  The east coast has been interesting to say the least.  Most of it trying, and most of it bullshit, and most of it I can't wait to just turn my back on and leave, knowing and hoping that I learned the lessons I was meant to have learned.  Never be that person who gets out of one relationship and doesn't bother to reflect on their experience, to grow, nor change, nor better themselves.  That person is only out to do more harm to themselves and the relationships that they end up destroying as a result of passing along a damaged soul to the innocent folks just looking for love and honesty.  Because if one can't be honest with themselves, how can one be honest with others?  Taking emotional damage and baggage into a new relationship, is like putting a new tire on a fucked up rim.  But if you are wise, then you take the time and due diligence to true the spokes before you put the new tire on, that way you are getting the most mileage out of the new tire and doing yourself the good of a decent go at a new run.  Without bothering to true the kinks and wobbles and hops out of that old damaged rim, then you haven't learned the lessons you were meant to learn.  And you're going to have a shitty run at a new opportunity for a clean start, and a nice fresh ride.  True your spokes.  True your soul.  Listen to your soul.  Your soul needs food, it needs honesty, and it needs time.  Time to heal and reflect.  You owe it to yourself, and to others, to give everyone your best self.  True your spokes.

The gun

Do not be afraid of guns. Most folks who I know are deathly afraid of guns, just don't know how to use one, operate one, handle one, have never seen one in person, and that makes them incapable of wrapping their brain fully around the issue. And I've seen some very skilled, responsible, and disciplined folks handle guns so safely and proficiently, that you'd be proud to go shooting with them any day. So as anything powerful requires skill and discipline, and restraint, so to must we exercise the same diligence of mind with anything that we utilize in society with such wielding strength. For instance, there are some really bad drivers on our streets. Cars are extremely dangerous, and all it takes is a small written test, and a small dinky and slowly demonstrated driving test, and badda bing badda boom, they're behind the wheel on their own, of a large thousand pound vehicle driving as fast as they want. Yet we trust these folks. It comes down to "respect" for the thing which you know possesses unrestrained power. You become the restraint. And "skill" when you must wield and build on the fundamental skills that you started with, in order to become a proficient driver. And the rest of us have "trust" to get out there on the roadways with all these drivers that we have no idea what kind of driver they are, but we get in our lanes, and use our signals, and learn how to co-habitate on the roadways, through prescribed guidelines. Now how hard was that? Do not fear the gun.

Dice Party Friday night Brooklyn Invitational

So a remarkable thing happened:  I went out tonight in Brooklyn for the Dice Party, and I ended up having a remarkably good time.  I ran into guys and gals that I had no idea I was gonna see.  We had beers, shared smiles and laughs and company. I shook my shoulders and fingers to the music.  And got in a very small mosh pit. I also got to re-meet a very special icon, someone I met when I was a dorky little college student in SF.  George had a small motorcycle shop two blocks away from my house.  And I was shy and so wishing I had a bike.  And he was so nice and cool.  Anyway.  Got to share that memory with him tonight.  Fun times, night one, Brooklyn Invitational. Tomorrow is gonna be the main daytime gathering and show so stay tuned.  Going to bed with a little beer on the breath and a warm heart.

Tandy Leather

Today I rode 130 miles north to Tandy Leather in Connecticut.  Now 130 miles on the east coast/New York wise, is about 4 hours.  The entire thing is road work, and traffic jams, narrow lanes, and well, yeah 4 hours.  I arrived at the supposed location of the Tandy Leather store at approximately 3pm, after some detours through towns and makeshift routes.  Google Maps chimed in "destination is on your left."  Guess what I saw, to my chagrin...an empty store.  Famished, sunburnt, and thinking "of course it's not there"  I pulled over to cool my jets and call the number of the store, cause I figured they'd just re-located somewhere in town.  Someone answers I put the phone up to my helmet to try to get an ear on their location.   They moved to a place called Berlin, 15 miles south, down another highway, but still on the way home.   And what's 15 miles when you've just come 130.  I was Stoked it wasn't a complete waste of an overshot.  Although I could have done without all that 84 road work/traffic.

So there I was, hungry, and keeping their doors open, drooling all over the tools and rolling in the beds of fine leather.  The gal helping me find all the things I need was a real help, she gave me all sorts of advice and showed me all sorts of tools that I'd need after explaining in amateur depth what my projects were to consist of.  So, after trolling the aisles and throwing everything in my basket, I'd racked up a good pile of goods/necessities up at the register.  Basically I was like, "ring it all up, and I'll take the stuff off that I really don't need according to how affordable it all is and how much I can strap to the bike.   The first tally was up in the 190's, so I took a couple things off, talking briefly about each item, to each item, about how I really didn't need it.  Then we were down to 170's, then 160's then 150's and then when it got down to the 140's and I couldn't really do without anything I definitely needed, I was like, "let's do it."

I boxed and double bagged, and then shook that woman's hand.  Then I proceeded to cleverly strap everything: large roll of leather to the back of the sissy bar, standing out proudly far above my head, much the way a flag pole would. The pack of holster patters went delicately in a backpack, and the 'how to carve leather' book and box of tools, rode right behind me strapped to the passenger seat.  Then I went next door for Chinese food, at the kind of place that just had bare tables, and no service.  Not the way I expected Chinese in Connecticut to be.  But I was hungry, and the guys at the table next to me, owned the white SUV outside with the stenciled letters that read loudly across the back window "White Knight."

I made it out of there safely.  And me and my new trade tools, rode home a new route through the ups and downs of what Connecticut probably calls mountains.  It was the 15 south.  Decent separated two lanes up, two lanes down.  And the flow of traffic was delightful.  I knew I was making good time.  I left at 6:30 and I got home at 10. So I'd say I made better time for sure getting home.  Navigating the city is always going to be a labor of time/traffic/and wondering why people/I, deal with this shit.

Ok, It's late, I've got a ripping headache, and neighborhood kids are underaged drinking outside.  I'm going to bed.  Stay tuned for photos of my leather goods, and videos of my trip back from Connecticut.  I took one video. haha

Do the Hokey Pokey.

This is the European report on preventing violence and knife crime.  In the U.S.  this title would read "U.S. report on preventing violence and gun crime."  So basically that's what Im saying.  It doesn't matter really what tool you take away,  there will be a transfer of attention onto another means as soon as you do.

Same shit, different weapon.  Same shit, different island.  Same shit, different shitty people.   Basically, people will find lots of ways to kill and injure each other.  We are a demented people.  Take guns away, we'll use knives.  Take knives away, we'll use forks.  Take forks away, we'll use our hands...hey, hands are used to wield all of these things.  Hands are the real enemy.  Outlaw hands!  Wait that's ridiculous, hands can't be to blame.  What controls the hands?  The messages that the brain sends it...Outlaw Brains!  Or better yet, how about we raise healthy and responsible brains, that will use their hands for good rather than harm.  Well that's impossible to do these days because we've already become such a shit race of violent humans.  Everyday we are surrounded by bad examples of humanity, and bad influences.  It takes quadruple the effort to reverse the years of damaging humanity.  It takes calling people out on their shit when you see it.  Holding folks accountable, when nobody probably ever held them accountable for anything in their entire life.  When nobody probably bothered to teach them to challenge and hold themselves to a higher standard in the face of adversity, and bad peer advisory.   Those of us who hold ethical high ground, are usually passive or quiet, going about our day peacefully, trying to be and worry about ourselves only, being model citizens.  But we need to be the voices that the bad peers need to hear.  It takes vigilance.  But like bad habits are born out of repetition, good habits must be as repetitive and demanding if we are ever going to change.  Telling some one to pick up their litter and throw it away.. Telling someone at the grocery to push their cart to the cart holder.  Not just leave it in the empty parking stall.  Calling people out on their shit!  These kind of folks never developed that heightened state of awareness and cognitive ability, so now they're shitty adults lacking the discipline and leadership abilities, that a little positive peering and encouragement and the correct amount of discipline in their formative youths could have instilled.

New necklaces up for sale.

https://www.etsy.com/listing/243756303/letther-necklace-letters-leather

These are leather letters that I stamp and cut and then make whatever name you want made put on a really great stock of flattened cable chain.

Strange Days 2015

Guess who went to Strange Days this year!!!!  Me!  As a first timer, I had no idea what to expect other than the flier said it was a hippie biker thing.  I was all down with the description.  I thought, hell, even thought David Alan Coe is playing at Lowbrow Getdown, I'd still kinda promised my lady that we would do some biker shit that weekend, and by the time Friday was rolling around, I knew we wouldn't make the Friday night show all the way out in Ohio for Davids set, also my lady on the back of my shady splitting tire for 400 miles?  I didn't think so.  So instead I figured we'd shoot for a close campout.  It worked out perfectly because Friday night my lady and I attended her friends birthday party, and then Saturday morning we had a nice easy take off for the Strange Days thing.  Now I'm not used to the East Coast New Yorker/New Jersey crowd yet, but it was sure a lot of fun, and the folks were really nice.  We rode about 60+ miles from Brooklyn to the property in Vernon NJ.  We had excellent weather.  Sunny, and just perfect.  I really love the countryside rides around these northern eastern woods:  Peaceful, green, isolation.  With my lady on the back we sunk into the center of each New Jersey country curve winding up to the property.   We passed a couple small towns on the way in, stopped for gas, a handle of whiskey for the night, and to use a bathroom.  Then there it was.  Off to the right, and approaching I could see the gathering of cars, campers, and bikes atop this open hilltop.  Then up the gravely broken half-dirt half paved road.  We pulled right up to the booth, where when they saw me they came out with wrist bands, and said "20$ for you and Bitches on the back, are free."  I love that!!!  I was like "Bitches on the back!  hahaha"    So yea that ruled.  Then we rolled in and around the fire pit, and found a nice spot on the lawn about 50 yards from the stage.  A ripping band was jamming some psychedelic rock, and it was such the vibe I thought it was gonna have.

EDR or Bust 2015!! Currently Under Construction (writing it now)

Loaded up with my guitar, fresh oil, and brimming with all the goodies I could pack into my old Marine Corps seabag, I left home, headed south down the switch bakery of the gorgeous old 49er highway.  I was working with the 2 last hours of a setting Sierra Nevada foothill evening trying to make the little town of BootJack.  Now, it's only a stones throw as the crow flies, but as the bike rides, it's a good slow ride, especially in a setting sun.   My Aunt Linda and Uncle Chuck, live in BootJack, so I usually try stop there on my way in and out of town.  I made it to their place just moments after the last inch of light was anywhere to be seen, and as soon as I walked in, Aunt Linda was giving me a big hug, and Uncle Chuck was handing me a beer.  Cheers!
       Now, I spend the evening catching up, and planning my route and hours for the next day, cause I had only two days between me and Thursday morning when I would be rolling out with the group to Mexico.  I got a good start Tuesday morning headed for LA.  Now that leg of the trip's pretty basic, the ride out of the foothills is gorgeous, but then it's all 99 freeway and Highway 5 all the way down.  I made excellent time to LA, and stopped for a quick visit in Simi Valley to see a friend I'd not seen in years.  And then I headed to Burbank Moto where I always stop and hang out for a bit when i get to town.  This time I saw Steve and Jerry and Tracy and a few others, with whom I had a good time catching up with.  Getting lost in the conversations over a few beers, it's one of my favorite ways to relax once I reach LA.  Now, like always I'd started out with some lofty goals of visitation and seeing everyone in LA, but then this time I wanted to to see Mad Maxx, and so my evening quickly turned into me leaving Burbank Moto, and meeting up with an old friend, and running to an old theater to see it.  So there I was for the next few hours yeehawwing over a huge popcorn, soda, and hotdog at all that big screen sensation.  It was midnight 30 when I got out of the theater, and being a school night, I respectfully declined to harass anyone who might still have their eyes barely open, so I headed down to my sisters place in Redondo Beach, and crashed there for the night.  Once again leaving LA feeling like my time was too short, and most of my objectives were incomplete, and well?, that's the stuff that keeps me coming back, the fact that I miss everyone so gosh darn much.
       There I was waking up Wednesday morning in Redondo Beach, with the goal to set out to reach San Diego, and finish my camping gear list, as well as buy some more GoPro batteries, since I'd bought one the week before and still hadn't purchased an SD card, or backup batteries for it.  I figured I'd need all that for the ride to Mexico the next morning.
       So, on my way down, I ended up getting wind that one of my old Portland friends had just moved to Carlsbad.  And off I rode,  right on down toward her place.  I spent the next few hours in Carlsbad visiting and catching up on life changes, moves, the present, and future dreams and aspirations.  We had an awesome lunch at a little burger dive overlooking a serene little estuary.
Before I left for San Diego, I fixed her radiator issues in her car, took some photos next to banana plants, and had some very deep zenful conversations.
       By this point it was about 4pm, and San Diego was still an hour or two away-ish, especially by after-work So-Cal traffic, and some more errands I was planning to run.  half way there I made a gas stop, and spotted an REI where I bought some fuel bottles and some 550 cord.  Then it was Destination Adria and Randy's.  Now I know we were heading to Mexico, and part of the plan was to stock up on Pesos at the bank before they closed, but guess what? that never happened, and so Operation Wing It went into effect, aka "I'll get them tomorrow wherever I can."  That afternoon was rad.  I got a chimichanga from a damn fine mexican eatery and got to hang out with two of my favorite people, Adria and Randy.  I think we had cocktails and then I repacked and rid my bag of some of the stuff I wasn't gonna need in Mexico and made sure my pack was tidier and more purposeful for the trip.  So there I was, less stuff, still too much crap, and ready for bed.  But right before bed, I made sure I purchased some emergency "what if" 5 days of Mexican Insurance.
That evening was awash with texts between friends who we were all trying to meet up with in the morning from our spot.  Who was gonna ride where, and meet up with who, and what times.  Nothing like a little pre-party planning, whozits and whatzits.
The next morning with everything bungeed, and bungled, and boggled and banged, we were gathered up and rolling down the San Diego 8: Randy, Matt, Matteo, and Me, destination San Felipe, Mexico.
     The morning weather was perfect, my sunblock was within zipper reach, and my camel bag was full of fresh water.  The mountains out of San Diego are fun, up and down, canyons and crests, and then the decline through those last windy channels down to the dry California desert.  Now it had gotten good and hot as soon as we hit that desert terrain, and we didn't make our first stop until we reached Mexicali/Calexico.  When we reached the town border, we made use of some roadside shade to lather up the sunblock, and where I hustled off behind a tree, and peed unknowingly on an anthill, which then meant I was doing the "ants get hell off me" dance.  (Me and ant hills, it's a never ending story).

(going to bed, continuing the saga in morning.)

The end.

EDR 2015

Day 8

We were hot on the heels and almost completely in a dumping storm, rolling through central Pennsylvania.  We were thirsty for early afternoon beers and aiming for a historic country bar, but we were sidelined for an hour or two, and that crispy blonde beer turned into Roy Rogers French fries and a tall coffee, while we charged our dying phones.  But the road and our end all game plan for the day was losing hours of daylight, and I really wanted for Matteo  to get to see the countryside and little quaint towns through whatever light we could squeeze out of the sun.  We were charged up and we charged out, as soon as that storm was a good bit away from us.  Jim Thorpe was as cute and adorable and magical looking as ever.  And Matteo's eyes were wild and in love with its first sight.  A similar reaction that everyone has with their first encounter of this beautiful little town.  We made friends with a fella who followed up with a phone call relinquishing his parking spot to us.  Mick  ran out and welcomed me with a glorious hug in the middle of the street.  We promptly were shown inside, and the festivus of new OITNB episodes, pizzas, beers, and saging of the souls, we spent the evening warm with friends and explorative conversation.

Day 7/8

We spent the night in a rusty old place, complete with ash trays and the smell of piss if we dared to turn the air conditioner off.  It was a real period piece.  The morning sun proved more promising to our location, a beautiful full view of the Ohio River, running the length of our leftward view to the north and south, and to our right, we looked on an historic brick factory, littered with old single pane windows, crumbling bricks, and failing paint.  Proudly displayed overhead the building was a large sign that you could tell used to be traced with working bulbs, like a circus freak show sign.  It read "MARSH Wheeling STOGIES."   On a little 15 mile sliver of West Virginia, splitting Ohio and Pennsylvania, surrounded by what feels extremely wild, and looks extremely beautiful, we wheeled in and we wheeled out. Thanks for the hospitality, Wheeling, West Virginia.

Buddy Trip 2015 (part 2) Day 3:

Just woke up in a small town, with a history.   Well, doesn't every small town have some history?  People coming and going, mostly.  Well here we are. Stuffed with pizza, playing my own lyrical version of Ziggy Stardust for the motel attendant while he replaces our bedroom coffee pot.  And I killed the mosquito that's been chewing on me all night.  My hair is in the air, and I just don't care.  I love the the road. And the adventures to behold.  Like missing shifter levers, and dropping knives on highways.  As the futures unfold, unique to the explorer, the wearer of stories, enjoy each and every moment, cause each bend, holds a treasure to be found.

Pants, Jewelry, Loft Building, and Old Family Shooting Pics.

3 times I've crossed the country, each taking a different route.
The first time I made the trek, I was coming across the middle US, cutting that pie down the middle.  Jumped on the 40 from California and shot all the way across upper Arizona, New Mexico, Texas, Oklahoma, Tennessee, and then on up through Virginia, North Carolina, Pennsylvania, and NY.   It was cold as hell first week before the new year, I was threading the northern storms and the longer southern routes.
The Second time I made the trek back across toward the west I took the 78 to the 76 to the 70, across Pennsylvania, Ohio, Indiana, Illinois, Missouri, Kansas, Colorado, the 25 down through New Mexico, the 40 to the 17 through Arizona, and the 10 to California.

The 3rd time I crossed  back toward the east coast, I took the 10 through Arizona, New Mexico, the 20 through Texas, Louisiana, Mississippi, Alabama, the 59 to the 75, to the 81 back up through Tennessee, Kentucky, Virginia, Pennsylvania, and back to NYC.

That leaves me with 11 northern states to hit up when the weather is warm, like maybe when I ride cross country at the end of spring.  Those northern territories will be beautiful.
Idaho, Montana, Wyoming, North Dakota, South Dakota, Minnesota, Wisconsin, Wisconsin, Michigan, Vermont, New Hampshire, and Maine.  This has been a trip i've been trying to coordinate with the weather as much as possible for a few years now.  And I'm finally poised with the time to do so, Ok, no I'm not.  Not when you're trying to build your own businesses.

currently I have 2-3-4 business projects that I'm trying to launch.  Furniture design: I make a certain chair and I wanna start selling it cause it is comfortable and looks great.  Made a couple for myself, and I'm finally ready to create an absolute finished product for market.  Jeans:  I've been making jeans for years now, mostly for me, and a few for some friends, but I have a product that I've designed and I absolutely love it, and I know there are folks who will love it also.  Sturdy, comfy, and great looking.  Jewelry:  I've been making jewelry for a few years now, selling a few pieces here and there, and realizing that my simple yet elegant approach to daily accessorizing, has been a winning feature, and I just want to get my stuff out there to the public.

Now, New York is under sheets of snow and ice and layers of cold and I'm so grateful for 4-Wheel drive.  Meanwhile, I've been making the most of all my indoor winter weather.  Such as, I just moved into a new apartment.  I have a bigger room, and I got to completely design and construct this amazing loft.  It easily fits a queen bed, a small dresser, and it stands 6 feet off the floor.  There is a nice walkup ladder, the kind you don't have to use your arms to balance, because this is a walk-up, not a climb-up.  This is where the real building is.   I feel like this is such a nice complete piece of work.  I love using the things I build.  And everything feels so much better that way.  My cat loves it.

I'm having a hard time sticking to one subject, and sitting down for a long period of time.  I just got back from errands.  I recently had to retire my Doc's cause they were leaking and the soles were hard, and I had no tread.  I got some real work boots Redwing classics 10 eyelet.  So after working in these straight for a week, I went back to get some leather conditioner, waterproofer.  cause the winter just sucks the life out of leather.  I also went to Home Depot and got 2"screws, 1.25" screws, and some brackets. Stopped at Michaels for some jewelry making things.  I'm now home, and after watching a few cat videos and laughing really hard, I am now typing this exciting tidbit about my day, and just about to post some recent photos of my projects.  Like loft building, jewelry shows, and pant making.

Making a Harness.

Rare, coin jewelry.

Card wallet.

Available at my Etsy page DirtyFree

sold out of this design, but still rad.

Full wallet.

Available here DirtyFree.

Triple throw, chain bracelet.

Available here DirtyFree.

The Loft in progress.

Silver-Laced heavy chain, gorgeous polish and nice clasp.

Available for purchase here DirtyFree.

Buttons I made.

Conch shell bracelet display.

Necklace board.

Making jeans on my sisters Los Angeles floor, November 2014.

Mtn. Biking in the Sierra Nevada

Santa Barbara wine.

My first scooter chop.

My first hand stitched article.  A shop vest made of auto upholstery.

Family desert shoots.

Grandpa shootin from the side, like a boss.

G'pa, Dad, Mom.

Dad, Cousin, Uncle.

Aunt

Always a smile when I'm scooting around.

Needs and Wants.

The Long gone Helmet Dred.

Heads cold, with no hair.

#jujubeast