Op-Ed

I shot this inside the St. Paul Pass Tunnel on the Route of the Hiawatha. I was scanning for other shots when I ran across this and it fit my mood, my mode of thought in a…

The honey-feast of the berries has stunned them; they believe in heaven.   —Sylvia Plath Black. Huckle. Rasp. My favorite time of the season is coming to a close.…

As usual the temperature climbs toward triple digits as I find myself in the foothills of Oregon’s Blue Mountains climbing a paved road with high prairie views that stretch…

I recently had the good fortune to discuss the difference in sound between the two guitars that made rock and roll possible: the Gibson Les Paul and the Fender Stratocaster.…

Sweat pours down my forehead saturating my eyebrows. I slide my right index finger inside my sunglasses and swipe the left, then the right, with a flick like windshield…

Our annual weeklong stay at the Newberry National Volcanic Monument drew to a close with a final riding opportunity. With my favorite rides already under my belt, I would…

Ah, the tricks my memory can play on me! Somewhere deep inside my noggin, unbeknownst to me, some smart-ass neurons are synapping back and forth laughing their asses off. …

I was a relatively broke graduate student working in a bike shop when I told my parents I planned to spend $60 on a bike helmet. The LeMond Air Attack from Giro retailed for…

This whole life of cycling began in earnest along the Southern California coast, where I could pedal just two blocks and turn north or south on the Pacific Coast Highway to…

Sometime in my teens, my father planned a family vacation at some resort on the Gulf Coast frequented by the Old Money families from the South. The tri-fold brochure that my…