Riding a 1942 Harley from Ottawa to Orlando Florida is not the most sensible way to go, even if it’s nice and warm when you get there. The story has some interesting ethnology of the southern US including just the tiniest bit of gunplay. My Harley-Davidson Winter Vacation, 1979
Uncle Victor was a big guy, at six and a half feet tall, restless because not much was going on in his life. He ran off to the Yukon Gold Rush in 1898 and never came back. His story, only known to us in its broad outlines, ended with his death in Dawson City following a construction accident in his 83rd year. It was necessary to go there and meet the people who knew him, before they too were all gone. A lot of odd and interesting characters in this tale. Tracking Down Uncle Victor
The original title of this piece was “My Summer Vacation”, but that bland title isn’t going to draw any attention from readers. The story is about a ride from Toronto to Newfoundland and Labrador on a 1947 Harley. There is fire and ice, a bit of murder and mayhem and a lot of meetings with good people. Enjoy. My Summer Vacation 1991
Around the world, through the Berlin Wall and across the Soviet Union on the Trans-Siberian Express, 1968.
I’m an old guy, retired, a layabout. But I have a lot of stories to tell and time to write them. There’s a motorcycle adventure in Fascist Spain in 1964, a ride across Siberia in 1968 and much more foolishness here and there. If you have the travel bug, you may find the time you spend reading these stories is time well wasted.
Layabout
Tales of a layabout 