B-B-B-B-Bad to the Bone

I went through many phases growing up. As far as my dress code went, my tom-boy adolescence transitioned rather rapidly to gothic once I hit middle school, then skater/punk (in large part due to this boy), then mellowed out quite dramatically into a wild hair, no makeup, tie dye wearing hippy once I was an established high schooler. I was a band geek, an athlete, a skater girl, and often times mistaken for a burnout. But one identity that remained throughout all of my metamorphoses was that I was a motorcycle chick. Continue reading

He’s Okay, But There Was an Accident…

I’m a second generation motorcycle rider. Growing up my dad always had a motorcycle; at one point he even had 4. Mom and I would take turns riding with him most weekends running errands, visiting family, and sometimes just going out for ice cream. We joined a local motorcycle club when I was 12, so our rides became more frequent. In the organization, we were Chapter Z or by those who knew us, the Zaniacs. We would ride out to other chapter meetings, go on poker runs to raise money for local charities, ride in parades… It was an amazing feeling to belong to this amazing group of people who loved riding just as much as we did.

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And the Hits Just Keep On Coming

Yesterday… the Mondayist of Mondays. I left work early because my boss took so much pity on me, and this streak just doesn’t seem to want to end.

Let me explain…

Yesterday: I woke up and got ready per usual. I knew my day at work was going to be a full one because I had spent all of last week working events out of the office (happy belated National Public Health Week ya’ll!). I was planning on spending my morning in my meeting then the afternoon playing catch up with missed phone calls and emails from the week before. Continue reading