The first bike that was truly mine came from a high school classmate. I don’t remember the asking price – only that it was just close enough to what I had, and that the deal was done quickly. I pushed it home the length of Walden Park, our subdivision, feeling equal parts proud and unsure. […]
The Dirt Was Real: My First Dirt Bike Story Read More »
Wandering Between the LinesThis post kicks off Wandering Between the Lines – an ongoing series of motorcycle travel stories about a life spent chasing curiosity on two wheels. It’s part memoir, part travelogue, and part tribute to the unpredictable beauty of motorcycling – especially when paired with a tent, a map you mostly ignore, and a few good
Motorcycle Travel Stories: Testing the Theory of the Open Road Read More »
Wandering Between the LinesBuilding thisisonlyatest.com with AI as my copilot was an experiment — one that paid off. But like any road trip, the quality of the journey depends on the directions you feed into the GPS. Here are some of the actual AI prompts I used — the ones that got results, kept me moving, and occasionally
🧠 AI Prompts That Actually Worked (And a Few That Took a Detour) Read More »
Misfit Toys & Mental DetoursWhen I set out to build thisisonlyatest.com, I had a vision: a space to share the rides, projects, and reflections that come with wandering, wondering, and writing the results. What I didn’t have was a perfectly mapped route to get there. I knew the broad strokes — WordPress, Astra, a clean aesthetic — but like
🧠 Accelerated by AI: Building This Site with a Copilot Read More »
Misfit Toys & Mental DetoursAnd it started with spam, so much spam. Back in the early 2000s — the dial-up days, when inboxes wheezed like modems and spam flowed as freely as coffee in the NOC — I was leading the IT team for a family-owned business with a strong DIY culture. Strong enough, in fact, that when I
The Domain Name Was Only a Test Read More »
Bits, Bytes, and Burnt FingersAccidental symmetry, courtesy of the FDR Sometimes the best photos aren’t planned — they’re lucky stumbles at 40 mph, framed by tinted windows and half a Negroni buzz. This one landed just right on a ride back to the hotel after a night of food, poetry, and cocktails in the East Village. The city blurs
