Rider, Thinker, Seeker: My Journey Into the Dust

Some people ride to get somewhere. I ride to get away. Away from the noise, the deadlines, the screens, the distractions — all of it. Out on a gravel road, with the steady sound of the engine and the crackling (get it?) of the tires spitting dust and stones behind me, I can finally hear myself think.

I’ve been riding motorcycles, a lot or a little, for the past twenty years. But it's only been four years since I learned that the miles that matter aren’t measured on odometers — they’re measured in memories, in lessons, and in the stillness you find between moments. Ironically, in those four years I've racked up over 30,000 miles. Like most things, if you focus on enjoying the process and not measuring the progress...BAM.

How I Got Here

I wasn’t born on a bike. In fact, I was afraid of motorcycles all through my 30's and early 40's.  And then I actually got on one. I took a basic safety course, and went from "well, at least I know how to spell motorcycle," to "holy cow, what have I been missing all these years??"

You know that saying, "If you don't ride, then you don't know?"  Yeah, that happened.

Four days, 1,000 miles

Since then motorcycles have become more than a hobby — they became a compass. I’ve ridden through cities and silence, across paved highways and rutted trails. 

Some of the best rides I’ve had have ended with a dirty bike, a sore back, and a calm heart.  You can expect much, much more writing on the topic of motorcycle zen in this blog.

I ride a 2012 Suzuki VStrom 650DL — it’s not the flashiest machine (...or is it?), but it’s taken me where I need to go. Over time, I’ve learned how to fix it myself, pack it light, and trust it like a travel companion. We’ve both earned our miles.

What I’ve Learned in the Saddle

Riding a motorcycle teaches you to be where you are. You can’t daydream your way through a gravel curve. You can’t fake confidence on a muddy trail. Every ride reminds me to be alert, humble, and grateful. Again, much, much more on this is dotted all over this site.

Catskill Mountains, NY

There’s a lot of talk out there about specs, upgrades, and speed. But what matters to me is the ride itself — the way it slows the world down and puts you back in your own skin.

I’ve dumped the bike. I’ve gotten lost. I’ve fixed tires on the side of the trail with nobody around. I’ve also sat by a fire after a long ride with a pipe and a glass of scotch, and realized I didn’t need much else.

Why I Started Cracklin Roads

This site is about more than motorcycles. It’s about choosing a different kind of life — one that’s more sincere, more grounded, and more connected to the dirt under your wheels and the thoughts in your head. I write for riders who feel the same pull I do: toward the backroads, the overlooked places, and the parts of ourselves we rediscover out there.

Cracklin Roads is a space for stories, gear that matters, checklists that work, and ideas that stick with you. It’s also a place where other voices are welcome — if you’ve got a good story or a hard-earned piece of advice, I’d love to hear it.