Motorcycle riding with friends means having each other's backs... even if it's been a few years.

When you lose a parent, people promise you the world. They promise you they’ll make plans and support you in time of need, but mostly it’s a lot of talk. Amidst all that noise, there was something else I heard. ...

A giving thanks story of “the Me I Was” before riding, “the Me I Am Now”, and how I got here. Intro 9 Years Ago this week my motorcycling life began. I was freshly 19 and taught myself how to ride. The dealership ...

I was somewhere around ten years old. My father had taken me to the auto show in Toronto. It was the late 90s. Neon was out. The Y2K fears were in. At the Metro Toronto Convention Center there was a ...

Here it goes… Four years ago today a phone rang. I missed the call. The voicemail, my aunt’s voice. “Adrian, come home right away. Your dad isn’t doing well.” It was a lie. He was already dead. But that’s what ...

We hear it all the time… The fairer gender isn’t exempt from it either. It’s the uproar we face as a reaction to our actions, our look, our desires, our love, and our will to be ourselves. It’s the static ...

And now for something completely unrelated. A buddy sent me a text: Art is so hard to define. Art invokes emotion and engulfs the senses. Art captures the exact mood of a time and place, real or fake. Like a look, ...

Ewa (like Whateva) called me Monday night. She was hooking her battery back up to her bike. The last time I saw her we were in her garage pulling the battery out of her motorcycle and winterizing it. The temperature was right ...

The City of Toronto is working towards charging motorcycles for parking, while simultaneously trying to find ways of reducing traffic congestion. If rejecting hypocrisy is your thing, have a look at how I avoided paying for parking while working downtown, ...

So there I was, looking outside towards my two car garage, hands pressed against the cold window, wondering, “Is my motorcycle thinking about me, too?” She was on the other side of the garage door. Cold, lonely, and neglected. I started ...