This seems like an odd question to me. “Tell me about an adventure you’ve been on.” Sure, but really, isn’t that the same as a number of the questions I’ve answered already? I suppose it depends on what we consider an “adventure” right? But also, due to my having blogged about trips and travels regularly since the summer of 2013 (and a bit more haphazardly before that) haven’t I already covered most of my adventures?
Do I take the easy way out and just say “well, life is an adventure” and leave it at that? I don’t think that’s in the spirit of the game. So no, I need to think of an adventure I’ve not talked about before or delve deeper into one I have. But this also means I need to explore the idea of what, exactly, an adventure is. Continue reading
Categories: Adventure, Friends, History, Personal, storyworth, transportation
Tags: big texan, gateway arch, hotel el rancho, kentucky derby, motorcycles, painted desert, route 66, storyworth, winslow arizona
I’ve always loved motorcycles. I’m gonna say it stems from first picking up a Ghost Rider comic book (#35, “Death Race,” way back in early 1979, from the wall rack at the Readmore bookstore on Spring Mountain and Jones). Johnny Blaze, the Ghost Rider‘s secret identity, became my personal favorite hero and I proceeded to collect every appearance of the character in the Marvel universe up to that point. Continue reading
How have I never seen this book before? I really need to write a new Skids Poppe adventure, huh?
You always think it happens to someone else don’t you. You just can’t know how you’re going to feel: Angry, pissed off, frustrated, hurt, violated. I mean, I’d seen it happen to friends of mine. I’d be there to comfort them, tell them we’d get the bastards. I never knew how painful it really was until it happened to me, until yesterday. Continue reading
It finally happened. I was doing everything right, even wearing my helmet. And it wasn’t my fault. I know, you out there think good old Skids is just whining but if I hadn’t had Guantanamo Bey on the back of the bike, none of this would ever have happened. As it is, I had to go to traffic school. Continue reading