It’s been a while. I’ve been busy. Life has been busy. Things have happened. Things have changed. Despite all of that. Something has been missing. Expression. While I have the opportunity every day to express myself through music, my podcast and youtube channel. I’ve still had this yearning to express further with my finger tips.

Through writing.

Writing enables me to transfer thoughts from mind to paper/computer screen and eventually out there for the world to see. Do I care if it gets a response? No. Do I care if it makes me money? In one form, yes, I hope that is the case. In this form, no, it’s not necessary. This form is mearly an outlet to express an existing thought or train of thought on the subject of motorcycles and cycling. In another form it is to tell a story. Which I have finally done in the form of a book. Yes, at long last, I’ve written a book.

This book chronicles my ride from New Jersey to Islamorada, Florida, in the Florida Keys in 2019. While most people would say, “So what? Millions of people do that all the time”. I will say, “Yes, but how many do it on a motorcycle on the busiest corridor in the country, on interstates?” The true answer is, not many. Not many are either dumb enough or know better to do so. I’d like to think I’m not dumb and that I do know better, but this book may prove otherwise. It was, beyond anything else, a vast experience I’ll never forget. For me, it was quite the adventure and, thankfully, only the beginning. More adventures would follow, and each would be more epic than the last.

Now, the book is not your garden-variety Motorcycle Adventure story. I get into excruciating detail about what led up to the trip; in fact, it took me nearly 10 chapters to get to that point where I was on the road. But I had a story to tell and dammit, I’m going to tell it. I did so to remember, at the reader’s expense, of course. Did I have to? Well, I felt it necessary to help bring the story to a moment of “Ah ha” understanding. Not that anyone would appreciate that; some have even made it a point to tell me as much.

I keep a daily-ish journal, and much of what is in the book is from my daily notes I would take during the ride. My observations, my thoughts, what I saw, what I experienced, what I did, what I felt, smelled, and heard. It was probably way too much information and detail to the point of tedium, but that’s how I think and consequently how I write, it’s how I think and it’s how I remember.

I published this book in December of 2024, and to date, no one in my family has read it, asked for a copy, or asked me about it. Some friends have bought it, I’ve given away a few copies, and I’ve received a few very nice reviews on Amazon. The synic in me says they wrote nice reviews because they knew me, the writer in me just says shut up and accept them as a compliment. I’ve received a few bad reviews, one scalding review beat the crap out of the book, even going so far as to say they stopped reading it and put it down in Chapter 10. I’m okay with that. No one is required to LIKE anything I do, and I know many people don’t like some things I do. They’re allowed. It’s the nature of the beast, as they say. If one is to be an artist of any type, one must accept that there are going to be people out there who will beat down one’s craft. I’ve experienced it in my music, in my art, in my writing, in my podcast, in my YouTube Channel, in my whole life. That is life. Shrug, tweak your face a bit, and move on. That’s not to say it doesn’t bother me; it does a little, but I’m kind of used to criticism and just give it a whatever. I am more bothered by my family’s lack of interest in it, including my wife, to whom I gave a copy for Christmas. I gave one to my mom before she passed away; she never read it. But, not everyone are readers and I get that. But not even a “Tell me about it” comment from anyone. Really? Ugh.

I know the book contains some errors. More than I want. I didn’t hire an editor or a proofreader, and, with a facepalm, I didn’t even use AI to read through the book and correct the mistakes, which would have been free and taken no time at all to do. I’m sure that didn’t help the bad reviews either. It cracks me up, though. I read through the book 4 times. Edited it each time. Making corrections and fixing punctuation, thanks to MS Word’s features. I even went through it one last time when I was reading it during the production of the audiobook and found even more errors, but by that time, the physical book had already been published.

I have kept a journal since I was in my mid-20s. I do so for fear that someday I may begin to lose memory of things in my life, things I’ve done, places I’ve been, things I’ve experienced, everything. So I write it all down. This book follows suit. I documented every farting little something so that I can remember it when I can’t, if that ever happens. My Grandmother K. was smart as a whip, a cheery old English lady who wrote everything down and shared it with me. Recalling her days as a child in England and eventually as an adult in Germany during WWII. So I do the same with her as the inspiration. While my book might not hold the same drama as life in Germany during WWII, it will be nice to look back on with fond memories someday, hopefully in the very distant future.