My ex-wife once once told me, in the midst of her post-departure-angst, that I was "nothing but a goddamn hustler!" At the time I wasn't sure what to make of that. How to take it... Was that a bad thing? Shit to be ashamed of? I've spent the better part of my adult life working for myself. For better or for worse. Cleaning cars, writing about racing stuff, and most recently marketing for the motorcycle. It's all uphill. Treading water with weights around your ankles. But those big, deep breaths you get to take, when the air is ripe with opportunity and you can see everyone along the shoreline crossing tasks off their lists and tackling to-dos, for someone else? That's when you know this hustle shit is worth it. When I replay that comment she made, reflect for a second, and then, yep... I'm out here hustling like a motherfucker. For me. Because I'd rather die drowning than be sunburned on the shore.

MSR Hubba Tour 2 Review: The Definitive Adventure Motorcycle Tent

"Camping and motorcycling go together like bread and butter: a great combo, but too much of one and not the other can lead to a lousy breakfast, or in this case, a lost weekend. You don’t want your kit to become a burden or be too cumbersome. Setting it up and breaking it down should be a no-brainer, and more often than not, less is more when it comes to camp gear. So, choosing the right equipment for your motorcycle adventures is vital. Items need to be light, pack easily, accommodate you, and often the person you’re riding with as well. Designed to house two motorcyclists (or cyclists) and all their gear, the new MSR Hubba Tour 2 is the ultimate two-person tent for two-wheeled travelers. According to MSR, it was the motorcyclists in the office that designed the tent."

My review of MSR's new Hubba Tour 2 tent just went live on Gear Patrol.


What I've been listening to lately... Like, a lot.


Perpetual Motion Postcards | Tejas

The second episode of Perpetual Motion will be going live real soon. Here's a little teaser from Tejas!

Surf Mat Shenanigans

"Some of the best ideas are born after many beers. Like when your father spots an inflatable surf mat at a shop on Sunset Boulevard – shortly after pouring back a few pints at Mohawk Bend, I might add – and then pulls the trigger, suggesting you pack it onto your motorcycle and ride up the coast looking for waves to surf along the way. Great idea, dad! And so just like that a trip was born, two actually. The first was as mentioned, from San Diego to Seattle on big American cruiser machines. Kyra and I stopped to surf in San Clemente, again in Santa Cruz and then a third and final time on the coast of Oregon. The second trip, though, was into Baja on our Indian Scouts. And unlike our first little adventure, which had us riding well-known roads and surfing even better-known spots, our surf mat shenanigans south of the border were a bit more off the beaten path. That trip was the focal point of ‘Baja Norte,’ the first episode of our new moto-travel show, Perpetual Motion. So, I’ll let you watch that, and save the story. And instead of waxing on about what we did, I’d like to explain a bit more about the mat itself, how to surf one and why they’re so awesome."

I wrote about the awesomeness of inflatable surf apparatuses for Wayward. Click this to read the story.


Hoh. No. Kah. Ah.

My grandmother, Mary Jane Texeira, was born in a plantation home on the Kukaiau Ranch outside of Pa'auilo, HI in August of 1920. Her father, Antone, worked the cane fields of the Honokaa Sugar Co. and lived in a small house near the mill with his wife, Cozy, and their ten children. When she was 26, my grandmother moved to Honolulu and opened a little laundry service. A few years later, she met a tall fella from Eastern Washington by the name of Merlin 'Doc' Coffey, my grandfather. They moved to the mainland in 1951 with two children from her previous marriage, as well as one on the way - my father, David. Much of my family is still on the Big Island of Hawaii, living in the small town of Honoka Ľa, working as paniolo. That little guy hiding behind his mother's leg is my grandmother's great-great nephew, the next generation of Hawaiian cowboy. And that old guy with the devious look in his eye? That's my grandfather, Doc, at 97.


Ara Macao

What I've been listening to lately...


The Shape of Speed

I've got a thing for Art Deco - or anything made between the wars. A style that felt forward thinking, futuristic, and yet tied to the time and space in which it existed. My interest in this era, this style, is so great that I stopped in Tulsa, OK just to eyeball the architecture for a few days. And so, when the Portland Art Museum proclaimed the introduction of their latest exhibit, 'The Shape of Speed,' which showcases streamlimed automobiles and motorcycles built between 1930 and 1942, I purchased tickets and packed a camera, no questions asked.

The exhibit will be on display from whenever you're reading this, until September 16th of 2018.

You should go.


Asher Emerson

"In a dimly lit corner of an automotive restoration shop in Tempe, Arizona, there’s a giant dragon. It looms overhead, long and twisting and yellow, with flames thrown from a mouth adorned by a mustache. I look up from below, admiring its form, its size, then pull a few paper towels from the roll, dry my hands and exit the little bathroom in the back of Asher’s studio. On the walls there are tracing paper sketches of the human form with could-be tattoo designs covering their butt and backs. Traditional Irezumi art is everywhere. There’s a small drafting desk, a padded massage table and a big bendy light, which looks a little bit like that character from The Brave Little Toaster. Asher is standing in front of his computer, which casts a blueish glow over his upper half. He’s looking at something that he’s scanned, the outline of a design which he’ll soon paint onto the back of my leather motorcycle jacket."

I wrote about my friend Asher for Wayward. Hit this link and check out the piece I put together.

From the Phone - Vol.8

Most of this won't make much sense to anyone. It's just a bunch of photos pulled from my phone. Many of which are old, like maybe a year or more. Anyhow. At least I know what it all means, for now, while I'm still cognizant and not suffering from some kind of memory losing old-age disease. That said, the first five or six photos are contemporaneous - a lake in Arizona, an International Scout like the one I had, and a photo of my grandfather and his second wife. Those are followed by a random assortment of images that include a month long motorcycle trip around Italy (and France), drag racing on the East Coast, the stump of my grandmother's redwood tree, my father, my wiener, and a few negronis. It's a mish-mash. And something I haven't done in quite some time. So here goes. A pull from the ol' telephone memory book. If you want to see more, you can hit the FTP tag at the bottom of the post.


BTS | The South

We traveled throughout the South in April, filming the third episode of our show, Perpetual Motion, spending something like three weeks on the road. We'd been across the Bible Belt before. A few years back, on the same sort of bikes (see: Scouts Honor). From New Orleans to Key West, riding along the southern edge of America. We didn't take our time, however. We had a deadline in Daytona Beach, and were running out of money. This go around, though, we had a bit more of both - time and money. So we spent some time in New Orleans, where we drank ourselves silly and ate wonderful things. We then wandered into the bayou where we met some friendly fishermen who took us to a Civil War fort now surrounded by the sea. Afterwards, we headed to Birmingham, Alabama to see the greatest motorcycle museum on earth and kick back a few beers with an old friend and photographer, Raymond. Our next stop was Atlanta, Georgia to see Steve West, eat our annual donut, and do some drag racing with our friend and 11-time national champion, Rickey Gadson. From there we traveled to Charleston, South Carolina where we swapped motorcycles for sailing boats. Long story short, we'd met this dude, Chad, by chance a few months back in Baja. And he made the mistake of suggesting we come sailing on his boat some time. Dummy. After that? South to Jacksonville, Florida for the circus, then Daytona Beach to ride our bikes along the Atlantic Ocean. There's more, though... Drinking mezcal with a members of law enforcement, kickin' it with a couple of Eastern European contortionists, sitting on the disassembled Globe of Death, etc.

All of this and more will be featured in the forthcoming episode of our show. So, stay tuned for that.

In the interim, though, check out some of the behind-the-scenes photos I shot throughout the South...


Jacob Bromwell Vermonter Flask - Part Deux

28 months ago, Kyra gave me a gift. She had our friend Hobo Shane in Ohio carve a likeness of my little dual-sport - taken from a drawing our friend Doug in Denver had done about a year prior - onto a hand forged Jacob Bromwell flask. It was a gift unlike any other I'd received. I filled it with my favorite whiskey and took it with me everywhere. Across the country on motorcycles, twice. Off the coast of Africa. Into the Sierra Mountains where a friend poured hot sauce inside it as a prank. To the Bonneville Salt Flats and Baja, around England and just about everywhere else.

Then one night not too many months ago, someone broke into a friend's car and stole my stuff - camera equipment, clothing, riding gear and, perhaps most unfortunately, my beloved flask. Fuckers. If you're reading this, which I doubt, just know that if I see you sipping from that thing, you'll be removing it from your ass shortly thereafter. Anyhow... Fast forward to my birthday this year and guess what that goddamn woman got me, again? Yea, another flask to replace the one that had been nicked. This time, though, she had Shane carve a likeness of my Indian Scout sitting on the beach in Baja, from a photo I'd taken a few months earlier. Same Lana Turner quote, and same incredible craftsmanship, both from Hobo Shane and the boys and girls at Jacob Bromwell. So if you're in the market for an American made alcohol drinking apparatus, one that'll only get better with age, check out the Vermonter Flask.