Excuses

Yesterday, HarleyDad took a Harley ride to the George Washington Carver National Monument in Diamond, Ozarklandia.

George Washington Carver was a man who lived without excuses.

He was born in slavery. He and his mother were kidnapped by slavers. He was later returned as a small child to Ozarklandia and was raised lovingly by the Carver family.

Blacks did not have educational opportunities in those days. He grew up in a rural area, taught himself to read and write and learned about plants. Later he was able to get an education. He lived in the stables while in school.

Carver was a man who loved God and nature. He was an artist and taught Sunday School for twenty years.

He became a great man of science and an educator teaching at Tuskegee Institute.

Among other things, Carver developed over 325 products from the peanut.

This man had everything in the world going against him. He was a slave child, lived in poverty, and had no opportunities for an education. He had only three things going for him. He had a love for God and nature, a hunger to learn and better himself and adoptive parents that loved him.

When I left the monument there was a placque that said something like this: "When people asked George Washington Carver how to find the way, he responded: "Trust in the Lord, lean not in your own understanding, in all your ways acknowledge Him and He will direct your paths.""

Carver knew his Bible. Somehow, Carver had planted the mustard seed of faith-and God gave him the secrets of the peanut in return-325 of them.

The leaves were beautiful on the ride home-the lessons learned, however, more beautiful

Ride Wise-HarleyDad

My House

We manly guys like to think we are in charge. (That is, until our spouses tell us different.)

My Dad once said to me that he made all the big decisions; whereas Mom made all the minor decisions. He said that he was still waiting for some of the big decisions. Isn't that the way it is.

Well, I am Harley Dad and am I feeling my oats today. This is my blog and my house (Note the word "Hacienda") and I say what I please!!

However, being the wise and judicious person I am, I choose not to say many things.

I do however, want to say good things, things that lift up and encourage.

Besides, it is hard being the boss with people you love.

I prefer words like husband, friend, lover, and co-worker. It seems like as I get older, that I am not as important as I used to think. Instead, I seek good relationships. (Diogenes sought truth, give me good relationships and a steak any time-Both go down better.)

That doesn't mean that I don't want to speak the truth-however, it should be a truth that helps and is spoken from good rather than from hurtful motives.

Here in the Wilderness, we are known for speaking our minds. Some not in the Wilderness, might call us blunt. Well, I call us "Wilderness Blunt." We say it the way it is. However sometimes we say it the way it should be too.

A child's story is told of two evil tailors who told the King that they were making beautiful clothes that only the pure of heart and the good could see. The king could not see the clothes but everybody raived and the king kept quiet because he did not want people to know that his heart was not good.

As the king paraded down the street, a little boy said "Look, the king is wearing no clothes." The little boy just spoke the truth.

We live in a society today in which people walk around having been sold a bill of goods by tailors who are experts in marketing, opinions and media.

Well, the little boy in Harley Dad, thinks that some of these ideas and approaches "don't have any clothes on." One might call them "naked untruths." There seem to be alot of them today.

In this season of politics, they seem to be reproducing like rabbits.

Ride Together,

Harley Dad

THANKS IMPQUEEN

Now, how HarleyDad and Brokerbelle could have had such a talented and brilliant daughter, no one really knows.

In fact, no one really does know her! She is a genius, but is still undiscovered. The Impqueen designed HarleyDad's Blog and Brokerbelle's blog. The Impqueen is truely an Imp because she is mysterious, and she flits from one cybernetic flower to the next.

At any rate, HarleyDad is not big on commercials even though Yahoo places some on my blog (hey, somebody has to pay for this blogging stuff!)--at any rate, go to the ImpQueen. For a bag of gold, (or at least a few shekels of silver) she will design for you the blog of your dreams-for indeed the ImpQueen is also Webmistress of the World ("WOW").

Commericial Over.

HarleyDad

P.S. Now ImpQueen, I have said ImpQueen three times, do I get my wish??

I ROCK. Check my cool 'do-rag! Check my Sportster!

Woot! Here's me, your very own HarleyDad, wearin' my 'do-rag and meanin' some business, as you can see by the righteous logo on the back of my vest:



And here's me pretending to be a cop, or singing "Stop! In The Name Of Love", whichever you prefer. However, I don't recommend my Diana Ross imitation, so just pretend I'm a cop already.



o/~ "Think it o-o-verrr..." o/~

I'd also like to take this time to mention that my daughter the Imp Queen is not just a genius, she's also one of my favorite people. Won't you all go visit her blog and give her some money? Thanks in advance. Otherwise, she'll keep hacking me.

Ministry

Now HarleyDad sometimes watches television on Sunday and he see well-known men and women proclaiming their great ministries. I am not impressed, and I do not think God is much impressed either. In fact, He may not be terribly enthusiastic about how the name of God is bandied about--yea even in this blog. After all, God can speak for Himself.

The reason that I am not impressed is because of Brokerbelle. Brokerbelle has a ministry. Now as I understand ministry, this is the way it goes. God gives you something that you must give to someone else. You did not have this thing or gift yourself. It belongs to God. You are only a trustee. You pass on the benefits of this gift to another. By doing this, God gives you an opportunity to have a small part of his work on earth-but only if you give it away to someone else.

Now, that is the way that ministry works. Further there all all sorts and kinds of gifts. God would probably not give all of his gifts to one child-just as we would not give all of our gifts to one of our children for Christmas. We split them up. Make them share so no one gets too "big a head."

The child does not buy the gifts. To the extent the child shares, the child is like the parent who gave the gift. Now Paul of Tarsus knew about gifts and he wrote about them in various places like in his writings to the Romans and his first writing to the church in Corinth.

Back to Brokerbelle. Many years ago a woman came to Brokerbelle (a woman who did not even particularly like Brokerbelle) and told her that God had said to her as this woman prayed that a woman attending the meeting that night who wore lilac pants would have a ministry to women. Guess who the only woman was that was wearing lilac pants that night was. You got it. It was Brokerbelle. Now I have lived with this woman for 37 years now and she has seen almost everything. But I gotta tell you-she got the ministry. No, she doesn't speak and she doesn't write books--it just happens. And yours truly, HarleyDad, gets a ring-side seat.

Now I thought the ministry was just to women-but it kinda gets loose and and happens to almost anyone. I guess God is no respecter of persons. I have seen her pray for Highway Patrolmen, yardmen, prisoners, and assorted youthful miscreants. Nobody is safe! Notwithstanding this, the ministry is still primarily to women.

Here is how it seems to work. Brokerbelle does her thing. She goes to church, but quite frankly the ministry seems to work almost better at the grocery store, at the hair dresser, at the grocery store. I suspect it is somehow connected to Brokerbelle's credit card-but can not prove it. Ha!

Women wherever they are ultimately want to talk to her about things. Now I don't know what these things are because I am not part of the conversation, and Brokerbelle does not tell me. And I am not sure I want to know either. They come to her after church. Princess Belle and I are always prepared to and happy to wait a little while for these conversations. They most of the time end up being on something spiritual and sometimes there is some prayer-where together they talk to God. Now I can see what is going on in most instances-although I do not hear it. My ministry must be waiting-but the Good Book says that those who wait upon the Lord renew their strength. Well, I suspect, waiting on the gifts of the Lord coming through Brokerbelle can not be a totally lost proposition. So Princess Belle and I are happy to have some down time while God and Brokerbelle go to work.

Well, over the years I have seen her work with alcoholics, work with young girls, work with wounded and hurt women and lots of others. Now I know that there are other great women out there doing God's work and moving in their ministries. But I tell you-try to do this raising four kids. Try to do it when you are fighting a battle with a family member totally in drugs for fifteen years. Try to do it after seeing 4 to 5 child-custody fights for your granddaughter, try to do it when your husband has a 60+ hour week job and travels all over the world and is not a particularly easy person to live with. Now that takes some doing. That must be ministry in overdrive. I ride on a Harley mo-ped. She is on the spritual Road-King.

So when the Sunday morning TV comes on-and I see both male and female ministers talking about all that God does through them, HarleyDad is NOT impressed, not one little bit. HarleyDad is married to one of those people that have the "ministry" and she never took one nickle. She gives money away-instead of pleading for it.

I am reminded of an old World War cartoon by Billy Maudlin, that showed the soldier Willy and his friend sitting in the mud watching a group of new troops come to Europe. Willy says, "Nows there some real troops!" Well, that is the way it is here in the Wilderness. HarleyDad has seen first hand real ministry-So he is not too impressed with those fancy T.V. ministries. He has seen the real thing in Brokerbelle.

Safe Riding !!
HarleyDad

Even the Angels are Artists 

The Artistic Life

Being an artist takes courage.

Sometimes I wonder why artists go to the trouble they do-expecially if what they are doing is not long lasting.

The wonderful artists that do sand sculptures see them washed out into the sea.

A number of years ago when I was in Bern, Switzerland I saw wonderful, intricate and beautiful chalk drawings. These drawings were washed away in the rain after many hours of work had gone into them. Crowds wondered at the drawings, they were greatly appreciated, but so temporary in nature. Now the drawings live only in the memories of those who were there. They were drawn for us and our pleasure.

Similarly, when I was in Beijing China, I saw artistic masters of calligraphy, do their works using long pens full of water on concrete. Some of the worlds greatest Chinese calligraphy appeared for a few minutes and then vanished away forever.

Through most of our history, there have been wonderful things that have lasted only for an instant in time and then afterwards vanished forever much as the beautiful chalk paintings are the calligraphy done with water. They are here for a second and then gone.

Before recording media, most art had this quality. Before books, before records, before video cameras great art came and went-often being here for a short time and disappearing. The great dramatic performances and the great actors of the ancient world, we never had the opportunity to hear. The same is true of the great muscians and music of the ancient world. Have you ever wondered what the Psalms sounded like when they were put to music by David and Asaph.

All this wonderful art although beautiful is lost to us today. Many of our most wonderful books are only copies of earlier editions, including the Bible.

I choose to live an artistic life. The acts of my life are art. That art has an audience. My audience is God, the angels, my family and those people that God chooses to allow into my life. That art may not be lasting-after all who can even remember the joys and hopes of their own family five or six generations back. It is almost as if they never were. But they were. They did exist. They did things that were beautiful and important whether we know about them or not.

One day many years ago I say a policeman direct traffic with excellence. Now most people that direct traffic, only direct traffic. This man chose to direct traffic as an art. When he did it, he did with such flourish and panache that people stopped to watch and would congregate. This individual was in his heart not just a traffic cop, he was an artist doing his art. The drivers and passerbyers were his audience and we would often take lunch and watch him direct. Never did an orchestra conductor have a more appreciative audience than this traffic cop.

If you have a Harley, then ride safely--but just as importantly ride well. Ride as a thing of beauty, ride with excellence. If it is raising children, or doing a simple job then find excellence in it.

So live your life as an artist. Don't be too concerned whether you are remembered it or not. Live with excellence. Live with artistry. Do what it is given you to do-but do it well.

HarleyDad-ride safe, ride well.

L.

When it rains I some times think of my favorite cousin L.

L was my first cousin. I often remember her when she was a teenager. She was older by several years. She had dark hair and was beautiful. During Thanksgivings spent with our extended family she was the oldest of the four of us. She was the leader. She was also gentle and kind to the oldest of the boy-kids that often played together during those holiday times. Never do I remember her being unkind in any way. Of course, she knew all the secrets of being a true teenager and we were all in awe of her-at least I was. She was cool.

Our paths crossed and intersected again. I was going to graduate school in Louisiana and she had two daughters by then and lived in the same student housing, putting her husband through law school. We got to know them again during this period.

Our lives separated again. Our kids grew. Then one day I heard that she and her husband had divorced. Later there were other problems as the family tried to make it without a father and with the other issues that so many families have had to deal with.

L. finally after going through many things and seeing the disappointments that life often brings, was found dead in her car having committed suicide.

It seems like the most gentle flower is likely to go first when winter comes.

L. was gentle and kind. The Bible says that sometime the people of God are not welcome in this world. L. was too gentle for this world.

After the funeral, the family got together and begin to talk about L. and her life. Soon the spirit of life returned and soon the family was even laughing together at some of the family stories. I believe L. would have smiled if she had heard the conversations, and I believe she may have.

Suicide has always been looked down on by the church unless someone chooses consciously to do it because of their faith, and then we call it martydom.

I believe that God loves. He loves those too wounded by the world to go on.

I believe God loves L. and has applied the "balm" and medicine of his love to her and her wounded heart.

So when it rains, sometimes I think of L. and the fact that God knew her wounded heart and loved her much.

I miss L.

Family Heroes

My uncle James is one of the unsung heroes. He lived an ordinary life in Liberty, Texas.

But perhaps not as ordinary as it seems.

My father tells me that James loved motorbikes. Now I don't know if he was a Harley owner or not. But Dad tells the story of how one day James was riding his Indian motorbike and wiped out right in front of the house. Dad thought his brother was a dead man. But James got up and walked away.

In learning about the history of our family I talked to James about his experiences in World War II. It seems that he was a pilot and was stationed in the India area. His job was teaching Chinese pilots to fly. Those pilots would then fly in and fight the Japanese in Japanese- occupied China. Most did not come back. James had high admiration for their guts and courage.

On weekends and holidays, James would get a motorcycle and cycle around India.

After the war, he came back from India to Liberty, Texas and lived there the rest of his life.

Things were not always easy for James. However, I do not ever however remember seeing him being bitter or mad. Like many from that generation, they never talked about their war experiences without being asked. They had a different take on life than those around them. Often these people were quiet and unassuming. But they were ordinary people who had done extraordinary things.

As I get older, I stand in awe of these people. Who else in Liberty knew the adventures of flying over India and touring the country on motorcycle--but he did not say a thing. Just lived his life before God in simplicity trying to do the right thing. Attended church regularly and worked at a number of jobs.

Heroes are where you find them. They are often quiet and unassuming people. Sometimes we find them in our own families. James is dead now-but he is not forgotten.

HarleyDad and Nephew of James

TIMING

Timing is everything.

Ever have one of those days in your life when your timing was off. Got up late and the day moved on while you slept. Then you spent the rest of the day trying to catch up. Late to your appointments, missed the train, sold low when you had bought high, whiffed your golf swing and finally got your bid in after the auction closed.

During the first half of my life, it seemed that my timing was all wrong. My prayer for the second part of my life is that God will grant me to have great timing. To get into the ground floor of life, instead of being a "johnny come lately." Solomon said that there was a season to life and a time for all things.

There is a time to laugh and a time to cry. This blog, I believe, is born in its proper season and in it I expect to share both my laughter and my tears. It is my prayer to be there on time for the people that need me and to have a good word for those who need it. To say the right thing at the right time, and more importantly, to do the right thing. To move when God is ready-not before, not after.

It is a time to be rich in the right things. A time for love and for friendships.

Here in the wilderness, there is a timing in the seasons. We have four of them. Now is the time of fall, next a time of winter. Each serves its own purpose, each is beautiful in its own way.

There is a season for the prodigal to come home again. Now is that season. Our generation has been prodigal from its values, and now it is time to come home again to the core values of love, loyalty and friendship. Preachers might call this repentance, I call it a return home.

I love having the opportunity to choose my timing. When I was young for about three years I had to ride my motorcycle in rain since it was the only transportation that a poor student had. Today, I can choose to ride when I like. I choose to ride when the skies are sunny. Yep, it is true that I am a "fair weather rider." But now I know the value of timing. During that first half hour of rain when the roads are slick, I leave the Harley in the garage and go have a cup of coffee. Later, when it is safer I ride.

And speaking of timing and riding. Now it is time to ride.

HarleyDad signing off! Ride wise and live.

Branson-Time Warp

HarleyDad and Brokerbelle Love Branson. Missouri that is.

Sure, it is hokey! But that is why we love it. When you come to Branson, you step into a time warp. A time when values were better. People still honor the flag and veterans in Branson. Branson is not built around gambling, drinking, and the like (after all you can get that in New York or Vegas)-instead it looks to country entertainment ("Last one in Nashville, turn out the lights.") It is centered on family values and having fun.

I love Branson. It is all-American. Went into the Up Town Cafe last night. It is a 50-60's type diner with a 57 yellow cab out front. A favorite. Said hello to the waitresses. One a blond, one a red-head. My wife and I could not determine the accent of these poodle-skirted young ladies. When I got my change, I said thank-you in Russian and they answered in Russian. Yep, all American, all right-Russians in poodle skirts. Now you know why I love this place.

Then there are the wonderful shows. Shoji Tabuchi, a Japanese-American fiddler, who has a great show and is known for having the world's greatest bathrooms-even a pool table in there. Well, the ones in Harrods in London are pretty cool too! Other great Branson shows are Yakov-famous Russian comic making a ton of money in Branson (at least I hope he is) basing his comedy on a Russian coming to America ("I love this place.")

You can also go see the Chinese acrobats. They are part of the Shanghai acrobat troup. Now HarleyDad has seen the Shanghai Acrobatic Troup in Shanghai and they are pretty good. But the "A" team they ship over to Branson, put them up in a converted motel and teach them English, and they are better than the one's in Shanghai.

Then there is Cirque an international circus with acts from all over the world. Did I mention that Branson, was American, by the way.

American, in the truest since of the word--a melting pot.

Well back to Up Town Cafe. People are playing 60's bop music on the Wurlitzer. Spontaneously in the waiting area, people are dancing. Sons with mothers. Middle age women recapturing their youth-when they were beautiful. Now they are older-but still teenage girls on the inside-at least at the Up Town Cafe in Branson, Missouri. You can still be beautiful in Branson and have a great time too!!

Harley Dad signing off.

God, I love this place.

Harley Clothes

Before I had a Harley, I thought Harley was about motorcycles.

How wrong I was. When I went in to view this art on wheels and to hear that sonorous Harley sound, I found out that Harleys were really about the clothes.

Where else can you wear tight black leather and do it for purposes of safety.

Where else can a guy who was born white, get to wear a dew rag.

Blue jeans are the clothes of choice, and if they are faded and have a hole or two, so much the better.

Leather vests. Wonderful Harley shoes. "These shoes are made for walkin' (stomping) and they threaten to stomp all over you." But hey, who wants to ride a harley wearing moccasins.

$400 leather jackets that speak of coolness, harkening back to James Dean, Rebel Without a Cause, Steve McQueen jumping the fence on his motorcycle in The Great Escape and even Marlon Brando in The Wild One.

Harley helmets, cool shades, patches that are more outrageous than those used in the military. Helmets that are in Black with arcane symbols, proclaiming that you are a biker to be feared. You are in charge (at least of the bike.)

Skulls, flames and other daring symbols, that scream I am not really a doctor, lawyer or professional, I am really an individual. Maybe even an outlaw on the inside trying to get to the outside.

It is about wearing denims with sewn-on patches.

Leather gloves, you get to wear them even in the summer.

Leather chaps. Hey, what am I? A motorcycle rider or a cowboy. Who cares, what is the difference. I am the Lone Ranger on a motorcycle, I am the Range Rider on an electronic horse. Get ready for adventure.

Yep, the Harley is about clothes. It is also about dreams and visions. It is about freedom.

And that is just the men's clothes.

Women love Harleys. Yeah, I thought it was because of the rugged males-nope, it is about the clothes. Always was, always will be. How little I knew.

Some of us even like the riding!

HarleyDad is learning about Harleys-It is about riding in the right rags!!!

HaleyDads Famous Quotations

Don't buy a Harley with training wheels.

Never drive a Harley sitting backwards after drinking.

HarleyDad wobbles but does not fall down.

You can tell when I have been riding at night--bugs in the teeth.

Never let your dog ride on the back of your Harley.

Go H.O.G.S--especially useful if riding in Arkansas.

Stay Sober-Ride Safely!

HarleyDad

Superman 

Heroes in Disguise

Heroes.

They are all around us-if we have eyes to see them. Kudos to the Imp Queen. See her post on Christopher Reeve in October and the before and after pictures she included. So which picture is the picture of the hero.

Most of us have heroes near us.

I work for a living. At my office is a young lady, Thereah. She has a deginerative bone disease and is recently married. I see her young husband help her come into work each morning. She sometimes uses a wheel chair and sometimes crutches. She is quiet, smart and always smiling. Her disabilities are diminished by her positive attitude, her smiles, and the heroism of her and her husband. Each day, I am impressed and inspired. Ordinary folks on the outside, but they are superheroes on the inside.

These courageous young people are teaching me a lesson. I am their student, and they are my teachers.

Heroes are close to us-if we have eyes to see them. This blog from time to time will highlight some of these courageous people. Heroes in Ordinary Guises.

Guts is where you find them!

A Five Star Harley Salute to True Heroes.

Keep Riding.

HarleyDad

The Frog Prince

Let me introduce you to the Frog Prince.

Life is tough when you are green. The Frog Prince does not have a blog yet-but one is coming. As Kermit says :"It ain't easy being green." The Frog Prince, like a another fairy tale individual, woke up one day after 15 years of sleep-but when he woke up he found to his surprise that he was in one of the fine state institutions in Mid-America-with, shall we say, time on his hands. The Frog Prince had been on a 15 year binge experimenting with every possible drug known to man. As the doctors say-he was self-medicating. He described his 15 year binge in the words of Dickens: "It was the best of times-it was the worst of times." But when he woke up, and after the drug haze and confusion lifted, he found that during his Dante's tour of drug heaven and hell, through a miracle, God had left him a mind, words that can bless and a loving and compassionate heart. He also discovered that the conscience that he had abandoned for drugs, was preserved (although all those around him thought it dead).

The Frog Prince is like all of us. Some days we are Frogs-but on those days when we are kissed by God, we become princes and princesses. But when we do not receive that daily grace, we return to our slimy selves , croak our complaints, and brazenly expose our warts to the world. But when we accept the kiss of God (some call it the grace of God) we become more than ourselves. We shed our Froginess and walk with a grace, gifts and callings that are more than the sum of what is in us. A true gestalt of the dance between God and man that each of us is invited to.

So look forward to hearing in the future from the Frog Prince. Listen, he has something to say. He has been to places most of us prefer not to go.

Simple Things

Simple things are best.

Heard of a church class named "Been there, done that." What a great name and how true it is.

Some of us have chased the not so holy grails of success, money power, popularity, looking good, ad nauseum. When we get to the end of the rainbow, there is only rust. Our goals are illusory, intangible, the fruits are bitter to the taste.

We return to simplicity. A simple love of God and our fellow man. We learn that relationships are more important than honors and people more important than positions. We have come home to our basic values.

Sunsets are more beautiful than the highest priced art. Bread when we are hungry and water when we are thirsty are better than the best continental cuisine.

A ride on the Harley beats transportation on the Concord.

Fresh air is ours to breath (at least for those of us who ride in the Wilderness).

A smile, a hug, simple love and affection are treasures that money can not buy. Even hard work grants us sound sleep.

Friendship is simple-so is love.

An honest and unassuming blog. What more could we ask.

Even blood, sweat and tears are honest and simple things. Simple emotions for a complex time and a complex people.

HarleyDad makes a plea for the simple things in life. A baby's cry, a bird's song, the rustle of the wind. All are better and more honest than the very best music.

It does not get better than this. It is time to ride, now!! A ride home to the basics of simplicity.


HarleyDad

Female Aid Worker Captured in Iraq

Margaret Hassan kidnapped in Iraq

Brokerbelle, my wife, has this to say:

"There is nothing more evil than wickedness done in the name of righteousness."

HarleyDad has this to say:

"They shame the name of Allah!"

Thus saith HarleyDad and Brokerbelle.

Philosopher in Leather

Diogenes should have ridden a motorbike. The air is cleaner and truth is closer when you can smell the grass and feel the wind again. I ride alone-but not really alone. It is God and me on a Harley. For the non-rider, my advice is to repent and to say three harleys. Some of you may love Harlies as well or even more than myself. You might be described as "Harlier than Thou."

Sometimes we discover wonderful things later in life.

I did not jump out of an airplane, scuba, golf or ride a Harley until after 50 years of age. Age is a matter of the mind (well most of the time, anyway), and I am younger now than I used to be and am having more fun. The child within has decided to come out and play. It is unseemly and outrageous!! It is my hope to become an embarassment to myself and to others and I am certain that I will have an opportunity to do both with this blog.

The Bible somewhere says: "Be a doer of the word-not just a blogger of the word." Further if we are not a doer of the Word-then we are like the guy that wrote a blog and forgot to save it and then turned his computer off. That's what my Harley Bible says anyway!!

This blog is about Harleys-but it also about God, man, truth, and finding your way in life. It is about being an individual. It is about loneliness and wounded hearts. It is also about friendship, fellowship, and healing. It is about family-local families-but also about larger families and the relationship of those who have survived rough times. It is about parents trying to raise a child beginning at 50 and hoping that they live long enough to get the job done. It is about rediscovering family and the restoration of values in our life. It is about coming home again. It is about love and a little romance as well. It is about heroes in unlikely guises.

My location is The Wilderness. Now the wilderness is not such a bad place to be. In the wilderness, there is not too much to attract us, it is easier to find our way and things are quieter-at least when we kill the motor. Jesus went to the wilderness to pray. The wilderness is my home. I live in the Wilderness and write from the Wilderness.

Ride Free-Ride Safe.

Harley Dad signing off.

Rev up the Sportster and Let's Ride

I'm HarleyDad, and this is my blog.