August 16, 2006 – 12:01 pm
(This article was originally published in Jordan’s Living Well magazine)
Vroom… vroom, roared the Harley before its engine was turned off outside the pharmacy on duty in Geneva one quiet Sunday morning a few years ago in September. The six foot ‘quelque chose’ rider dismounted the daunting machine, took off his intimidating German helmet, neatly tucked it under his left arm, and walked slowly inside the drugstore.
Click…clack, he steadily thumped his way across the aisles in his huge boots and leathery attire. Elderly Sunday morning shoppers could not hide their disquiet at the site of this unusual visitor with his menacing looks, but pretended to mind their business. With the dark sunglasses carefully hiding hung-over eyes, but betraying weekend stubble, disheveled hair and an overgrown goatee, he placed his helmet on the counter. Read More »
August 9, 2006 – 12:01 pm
(This article was originally published in Jordan’s Living Well magazine)
Forgive me, Ernesto, for helping myself to this undeserved title of which I am grossly unworthy. I ask permission not only because I’m so unlike you in that I cannot believe in a single earthly dogma for the salvation of mankind so as to dedicate my whole existence to fight and die for it.
This noble, but often blinding, human trait is only part of the abyss that demarcates your fearless soul from mine. What really sets us apart here is that my inconsequential motorcycle expeditions will not leave these pages, whereas your celebrated treks are already grand history. And so are you. From t-shirts to boxer shorts, your portrait is a cult image more recognizable than most Hollywood celebrities. Alas, the only portrait you’re likely to find of this author is a Swiss police mug-shot for some serious traffic violations, but we won’t get into that. So Comandante, you still rock! Read More »
