I learned from an experienced solo traveler that one gathers many stories while on the road. He said it is a good idea to keep some of your most epic stories for yourself. It keeps the memories sacred and prohibits others from cheapening it with their opinions. This is the wisdom of a traveler.
A few years back, I was at a small concert in downtown Portland. OR. with a friend of mine. The show wasn’t great, so we decided to walk across the Steel Bridge to the Yamhill pub on the west side of town. To this date, the Yamhill was the diviest-bar dive-bar I’ve ever been to. And I’ve been to a lot of them. They sold pitchers of PBR for $3, and SlimJims, and pickle flavored sunflower seeds and beer. I remember the bartender serving me a beer in a warm glass. I asked about possibly getting a frozen glass, but I should have known better. He said their freezer broke about five years ago.
We spent a couple of hours there hanging out. The people watching was great. At one point a trans-gender man came stumbling in crying and making a scene. He eventually dropped to the floor in front of everyone, sobbing and making being overly dramatic. He appeared to be determined to make sure everybody noticed his condition. Eventually, some Yam-Hillers picked him up, sat him down at their table and gave him a drink. Problem solved.
We walked back across the bridge at about 1:30 AM. On the way back it was pouring rain and cold and the bicycle (pictured above) was sitting in the middle of the bridge by itself. It was leaning against the handrail. No lock and no owner anywhere in sight. As if it were abandoned.
I thought it was strange that this bicycle was just sitting there in the middle of the bridge and wondered if perhaps someone had jumped off the bridge and committed suicide while we were at the bar. Such a morbid thought, but I knew for sure the bike wasn’t there when we walked across the bridge earlier that night. So I took it, and it became my bike. I really liked the classy look of it, the old school Portland vibe it had, the stickers on the framd and MAX pass wrapped around the seat post.
About a year later I couldn’t get the idea out of my head that what if… what if someone really did jump. So, I googled it. And sure enough, the day after I found the bike an unidentified male body was pulled from the river below.
Perhaps I should have told the police about the bike early on, but I didn’t. I did however post a story about it on Craigslist to see if anyone would come forward to claim the bike, but nobody responded. Probably because they had jumped off a bridge.
Speaking of dive bars, I always thought it would be fun to make a photo calendar of dive bar restrooms. The bathrooms are always disgusting, as expected, but sometimes the graffiti is great. I did in fact spends some time visiting dive bars and photographing some epic restrooms, but I never got around to making the calendar. Someday…
When you travel long distances with your bros through third world countries, in search of epic surf spots nobody has ever heard of, and you find one, there is only one rule; don’t tell anyone. This selfie was taken somewhere in Mexico with one of my best friends of all time. If you look closely you can see him lighting his cigar in the drivers seat. And, yes, we scored some incredible waves on this trip. And the Westy, with its brand-new engine, only broke down twice.
I took this picture in Puerto Vallarta in the very early months of Covid before everyone was on lockdown. When you see a motorcycle packed up like this, it no doubt has an owner with untold miles of adventure stories. A bike like this, in Mexico, with a European license plate is a rare find. How did it get here? Where is it headed? l waited around for a while to see if the owner would return, but no luck. Later that day I saw an older man, probably in his late 60’s, riding it down the street.
Safe travels my friend, enjoy the ride…
This is a 1990 Toyota Hiace. It’s a right hand drive, 5 speed manual, diesel 4X4. I saw a picture of one online and fell in love with it. A few months later I imported one from Japan and fixed it up. I have had the privilege of owning some very cool toys in my day, and this one was one of my favorites.
This picture was taken in on Mt Hood in the Cascade mountain range just before Christmas when my family and I were out in the forest looking for the perfect Christmas tree.
After many years of this family tradition I learned a very important lesson; perfect Christmas trees are found on Christmas tree farms, not in the forest.
Salmon Festival, Ninilchik, AK. 2021
When I was in the thick of a sad, and unexpected divorce, I found some solitude in friendly faces.
Speaking of drugs, I took this photo while experimenting with mushrooms for the first time. Or maybe the third.
I remember laying in the bed of my truck and looking at my shoe… for a very long time.
Somewhere in the mountains of Alaska.
What is art?
Silly Tim.
Thats a shark egg
Thats a pool shark
I purchased a small yacht and lived on it for a year in Southern California. Here is what the electrical looked like when I bought it. Completely rusted by the salt air.
Below are the ducks that would swim by the boat every morning asking for a piece of my croissant, or muffin, or whatever I was eating that morning. At least I thought that’s what they were asking for. So I obliged.
This is a famous penis.
Perhaps you recognize it.
The Ventura County Fair. Where locals go to get taken advantage of by people who don’t live there.
‘It’s also a great place to ride rides that were assembled in a few hours by tweakers and meth heads, who make extra money posting YouTube videos of their rides falling apart and injuring people.
I wish I were joking.
