I’ve been lucky enough to make some road friends, and I’ve been lucky enough to make some real friends.

In the past two days my world turned upside down. The work I’ve done my entire life, particularly in the last four years, crumbled apart in a matter of moments. And the people that came to my aide, just as expected, are those who I met in scuzzy dives, back yard fires, or barreled into my life on the back of a V-Twin. 

I met Erika and Alexis through the heavy metal scene in Savannah, Georgia close to 10 years ago. There was a lot of metal and outlaw country, a lot of hard times, and a lot of tequila. And now they’ll be flying down from up north to see me through one of the hardest times of all. Hopefully, the eye patch that I wear will be temporary, but who is really to say?

See that horse hoof to forehead connection?

Aside from a broken cheekbone, fractured spine, busted nose, and general bruising, my entire eye socket in about to be replaced with titanium plates. I’m about to be the real-deal bionic woman.

My fiancé, younger brother and myself are having an eye-patch decorating party tonight: one for every occasion. On the suggestion of Alexis: a crushed velvet one for special occasions. And as I have previously shared with Erika, there will be a Patch inspired one ala Switchblade Sisters. Next week, after the plates are put in, they sew my eye shut for it to (hopefully) heal. I plan on doing that with at least a little bit of flair.


Today is looking better than yesterday.

The girl-moto gang fell apart when things got tough, which is a shame. It wasn’t what I ever expected. It was a harsh realization. The boys, however, stuck by my side with relentless force. The sisters I met through the heavy metal scene, even though spread apart by state-lines, miles and miles away, have figuratively been by my side; they have already made plans to come and stay down in the foul, currently disappointing, south.

Motorcycle life may be put on hold. At least scooting around myself until I have better vision. They are going to sew my eye shut, guys. Got that? The doctors are going to sew my eye shut so it can heal properly.

With my escape lost, confined to bed rest, I’m slowly losing my mind to the theme of the Great British Baking Show.

That loyalty I was talking about, the new friends—we made some at Definition of the Chopper this past month. A guy, Jeff, traveling in a converted school bus hauling several of his own choppers rules the road by day. I was mildly in awe of his Honda/Harley project that could possibly be the most perfect bike I’ve ever seen— regardless of my being partial to the evils of all that is metric.


We met a guy who wasn’t hesitant at all about coming up and talking to us when, I’m sure, he noticed us standing around and talking about his build. Is there anything better than a purple ironhead? Maybe a purple ironhead with a raccoon tail attached to the sissy bar and a few Triple Six Death Crew stickers. That was Myles. We liked him immediately.

We all sat down together at Suck Bang Blow later that night, where I was more or less silent save for subtly making fun of decked out Victory bikes bumping “Satisfaction” (Benny Benassi) through their speakers. It was good to listen to what these guys had to say. Coming from different places, both had similar stories of travel, wear, tear, and tons of experience taking the plunge and making something out of nothing—what it’s probably all about in the end.

Since I’ll be on bed rest for a long while, I’ll catch you up with them. There’s a lot to be learned from a guy with two wheels and a dog—someone loyal to the road, who actually grabbed the freedom in front of them and are out there living their own superb and terrifying adventure.

More to come very soon friends—cheers.