Category Archives: Motorcycles

Rumbling About

Posted on August 11, 2020 by Jim Stewart

I can sit on my motorcycle, rumbling down Coast Highway 101, following my front tire to Seaside. As long as there is road, sometimes it isn’t possible to discover a reason to stop. Clustered memories can explode into other years … Continue reading →

Posted in Absolutes, American history, family, Harley Davdson, Humans, Life, Motorcycles, Open road, Oregon, Perception, Uncategorized, White privlege, Wisdom | Tagged , , , | 6 Comments

Haiku: Ninety or Nothin’

Posted on May 21, 2020 by Jim Stewart

(For my friend and compadre Bud Hedrick on his 90th birthday, May 22. ~JimS) Birthdays and race dayscan both have the same feeling:ninety or nothin’ (Motorcycle: checkers.com; Bud and Jim: Jim; and go visit https://budhedrick.blogspot.com/)

Posted in Aging, birthdays, Friendship, Haiku, memory, men, Motorcycles, Music, pals, Poem, Riding, Uncategorized | Tagged , , , | 6 Comments

“Mister…?”

Posted on September 19, 2019 by Jim Stewart

A young boy, dressed in clean but threadbare jeans and a shirt that might have once been red, took in my leathers and my road-weary black Harley. He then shot me a look that was older than he was. “Mister? … Continue reading →

Posted in Action-adventure, Aging, Conversation, Harley Davdson, Life, men, Motorcycles, Narble Furt, Riding, Slice of Life, story excerpt, Uncategorized, Writing | Tagged , , , | 6 Comments

The Road Takes a Break in Nakusp, B.C.

Posted on August 17, 2018 by Jim Stewart

The breeze off Arrow lake sways the curtains in my room, robbing the ghosts of places to hide. The fan blurs the ceiling where peeled wallpaper casts vibrating shadows, like insect wings stuck to my leather. The confused air stirs … Continue reading →

Posted in Action-adventure, Art, Bedtime, Consciousness, Dream, Gratitude, Harley Davdson, Life, memory, Motorcycles, Poem, Travel, Uncategorized, Vacation | Tagged , , , , | 2 Comments

Nightmare in Denim

Posted on May 11, 2014 by Jim Stewart

(Note: this came from a nightmare I had when I was small, in Buffalo, NY. Why I still remember it as vividly as I do remains a mystery.–jrs) I cowered in my sleep unable to turn away, unable to awaken to … Continue reading →

Posted in Aging, Dream, memory, Motorcycles | Tagged , , , , | 3 Comments