BOLTS WY 2017

Sometimes life has me feeling like a dog on a leash that is all tangled up and wrapped around my legs like a twisty vine. So when Warren asked me if I wanted to spend six days riding up to Jackson Hole Wyoming I figured I could use some unwinding. Fuck it. That is why I own a goldwing. We stopped by my parents ranch, slept under the hay shed, rode the back roads including the legendary all dirt Irish Canyon. 20 miles from our destination we got blasted with a hail storm that left us with oozing welts, soggy britches and feeling alive. When we reached the camp the Bolts crew had tacos, cliff diving, and swimming in mountain streams colder than any thing I have dared to know. A quality group of active people. We did the turkey tour through yellow stone and saw the classic shit. On the way home the shovel head gave up the fight with bad internal noise. Fucking Harley Fucking Davidsons. I don't get the craze. I did get the explosive shits though. Picture me squatting roadside in the reed grass blasting out my internals when out of nowhere the girls high school volley ball team comes walking down the road. Classic. And we doubled up nuts the butt on the goldwing and lived out our dumb and dumber dreams. Life is what we make it and the people we share it with are what help make it worth making it.