Reaching and celebrating a milestone

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As I looked on the left hand side of our website at the counter ticking off the many articles each of the Road Dirt Crew have authored, I was surprised to discover that this is number one hundred for me.  My path here and to the century mark has been simultaneously strange and lucky.

Riding motorcycles in my youth, I idolized moto-journalists and dreamed of being one.  Odd really, probably born from me spending too much time absorbed in motorcycle magazines in my formative years, which took way too long to form.  What a cool job they must have, I reflected, getting to ride the latest machines, talking to famous people, testing the latest gear, traveling the country.  My house was forever littered with bike periodicals.  Like sand from the beach they were everywhere, well-read, pages dog eared, covers worn, food spilled on them.  One day that will be me, I thought, one day…

Moto-journalists have the coolest jobs, don’t they?  The author putting some dirt in Road Dirt, testing the Harley-Davidson Pan American.

Then, many years ago after a typically spectacular motorcycle tour to Canada with our group, I wrote a short story about our trip and sent it out to everyone.  They loved it, so I kept writing stories about our adventures.  It helped me process the trip, enjoy it a second time, and preserve the memory of what we were doing instead of relying on campfire stories to carry on our history.

During these times an email came to my inbox that I almost deleted.  Bike Bandit, a motorcycle parts company in San Diego, was looking for writers.  It sounded like a scam, a clever way to collect information, track my web browsing or get my credit card digits.  But what if it was true?

For reasons I cannot explain, and without much thought, I picked the story about my three week solo trip across the west, attached the file, clicked “send”, then laughed out loud at the silly gesture.  What had I done?  For sure I was going to get an inbox flooded with every unwanted advertisement from surefire real estate investments and male enhancement drugs to the latest and greatest turnip twadlers.  Bike Bandit was not really looking for writers and if they were, my email would probably get buried by all of the responses, totally ignored, forgotten.

Ride where we do enough, and you will eventually get caught in a cattle drive. The West still lives out here.

A few days later I was going about life’s daily drudgery when my phone rang with a strange number.  I almost didn’t answer it, thinking it was a scam.  Replying to that email was a bad idea.  They had my number now.  Here came the robo calls.  What prince needed to deposit money in my bank account now?  I answered my phone anyway.  I don’t know why.

The man on the other end actually sounded like a real person and introduced himself as Eli Madero from Bike Bandit.  He told me how much he loved my work and wanted to send my story out as a feature article on their next mailing list.  I couldn’t decide if I was more shocked that the search was legitimate or that someone from this large company actually found my e-mail, took the time to read my work, loved it, then got back to me, wanting to use it to draw people into their business.  I was still harboring the thought that all of this was an elaborate scam, things like this don’t happen to people like me.  I asked Eli how many people were on their mailing list.

The only thing better than a motorcycle trip is doing it with your friends.  Trevor Alexander (left) and tire tester Dave “White Girl” Wensveen display the joy of the road.

A quarter million.

I froze.

All illusions of the scam were shattered a few days later when I got a mass email from Bike Bandit with my story as their feature, then realized that a quarter million motorcycle riders from around the country were seeing the same thing.  How ironic it was that after being afraid of a flood of spam into my inbox, my work was now part of a mass email from a large company.  The tables had turned.

As I started to process everything that had happened almost overnight a particular thought struck hard, snapping me into the reality.  Even if a tiny amount of those people, even just a tenth of those receiving that email read my work, 25,000 readers was a lot more than the couple of dozen in our riding group.  I needed to start trying.

Three bikes and many thousands of miles a year means tires. Lots of tires.

So I kept riding and writing, not sure where it was headed and kind of not caring, just enjoying the ride, trying to give my best work, word by word, every time, letting fate do the rest since fate was doing a splendid job so far.  I got recognized at places I went from Laguna Seca to the Bonneville Salt Flats to my local Mongolian Grill.  Even though I was humbly thankful to be on the team, one day I expected Bike Bandit management would come to their senses, realize their mistake, and give me the axe.  Which is what happened next.

In the spring of 2019, Bike Bandit management fired all of their advertising and writing staff.  Well, it was a good run.  I had my fun, got a taste of my dream, all the while knowing it was too good to be true.  In an ironic twist, Bike Bandit’s other odd management decisions turned out to be the beginning of the end for the San Diego parts giant, ending in their bankruptcy in spring of 2022, which is an unbelievable story of its own.

A good day at the office.

I talked with Eli, sad for my friend, who also left Bike Bandit.  He was one of my biggest supporters and we remain friends to this day.  He said he still loved my work and was going to recommend me to someone named Rob Brooks who was starting a new venture.  I halfheartedly listened, expecting nothing to come of it.

A few weeks later my wife and I were leaving our favorite Mexican restaurant.  I was riding shotgun, macho burrito leftovers in my lap, focused on not spilling when my phone rang in my pocket.  I debated on whether or not to check it.  My burrito was important to me.  I didn’t want to spill.

Artfully balancing the styrofoam container in one hand I reached for my phone and checked the number.  I didn’t recognize it.  Stupid scams.  I didn’t need anymore turnip twadlers.  I answered it anyway.  I can’t explain why.

On the other end was an actual real person who introduced himself as Rob Brooks.  Rob spoke with a lazy, smooth voice and a gentle southern accent, as if Wolfman Jack decided to move to southern Georgia and replaced his two pack a day smoking habit with quality coffee.  In his intoxicating tone, Rob explained that after contributing for Cycle World, Motorcyclist and being a regular columnist for some cruiser magazine I had never read, he was starting a new venture, raising up his own motorcycle media outlet from scratch.  No print magazine, just straight to the web.  I was suspicious.

Road Dirt chief cook & bottle washer Rob Brooks (far left) has come to ride my Northwest backyard. He was not disappointed.

I sent him a work sample which was likely used to replace his expired prescription for sleep medication.  Rob had been in the industry for a while and knew quality journalism, so I waited, wondering how he was going to use his polite southernly charm to reject the useless drivel I had just submitted.  Shockingly, he actually liked it, and asked for more.

I have been with the Road Dirt crew ever since.  Like a kid picked last for dodgeball I am just happy to be part of the team, thankful for everything, grateful for every opportunity.  It turns out Rob’s vision of skipping print and going straight to digital timed the market perfectly.  Since the birth of Road Dirt Motorcycle Media, Cycle World went digital only, while other big name periodicals like Motorcyclist and American Iron closed permanently.

After a hundred articles I thought I would run out of things to write. Yet in a way, I feel like I am just getting started, still learning, still trying to give my best work, word by word, every time, for both of the people who read this, and those who need help sleeping at night.

In my years here I have ridden the latest machines, talked to famous people, tested the latest gear and traveled the country, and am better at answering strange numbers on my phone.

You just never know when opportunity will ring.

Ted

Rob is not just the owner and editor of Road Dirt Motorcycle Media. He is my friend.  It is an honor to be a part of the Road Dirt Crew.