It’s been a long time, I shouldn’t have left you, without some strong prose to step to… Times up!

It’s been a long time since I haven’t had a home of my own. Or at the very least a home to call my own. I’m no stranger to extensive travels, but as I write this, sat on an aeroplane jetting towards the City of Angels, this is the first time in my life that I don’t have a place to live, a lead on a place to live, or for that matter, a real care about where I’m going to live. About 10 days ago I decided to pluck my leaf  from the stem of the big Apple and toss it into the swirling winds of 2020 and let the universe guide me in her jet stream.

Impulsive adventures are nothing new to me. I once headed to LAX just to drop a friend off and ended up on a flight to Sydney. Doing things on the spur of the moment is one of my great joys in life. But this time it’s different. This time I don’t have a home to go back to. I’m completely untethered. A drifter, you might even say. I gave up my apartment in the building I called home for the past 7 years, and put whatever belongings I didn’t gift to friends or even strangers into a sketchy storage facility in the Jersey shadows of the GW bridge and hopped on a plane.

The last time I was in my adopted second home of Los Angeles it was a two night stop in between a suicidal mental breakdown in Las Vegas and a mental health treatment center in Ocala Florida. This time I’m on my way to gather some belongings I had left scattered around the city and then continue on to Washington State to pick up my beloved Motorcycle which I had left for dead in the Spokane International Airport parking garage in September 2019. I’m gonna get back on that steel horse, a few changes of clothes and some camping gear strapped to the back, and pint my way towards a new adventure. Aside from a few friends I’m planning to visit in Idaho and Idaho and Colorado, I’ve got no idea where I’m going to end up, how I’m going to get there, or when. I guess I’ll just know I’m home when I feel like this is the place where I want to stop.

When I left this bike in Spokane I had been riding it all around the Great Western Frontier, looking for a place to die. This time, I’m looking for a place to LIVE!

21st Century Pack Mule. High above Lake Coeur D’Alene.