An American Motorcycle Diary

Those born and raised in Charleston, South Carolina apparently have  a distinct and somewhat endangered accent which stands out in the South for its unique qualities.  Among the various regional Southern accents, the Charleston accent utilizes a vowel sound that keeps the same quality for the whole syllable. Under certain conditions the letter “r” is  not pronounced when it occurs after a vowel or at the end of a syllable (as in fah away). The features of this speech may be attributed to its early settlement by the the Huguenots and Sephardic Jews, both of which had major influences on the development of the area. It is more likely though that the speech … Continue Reading

Isaac Newton said, “We build too many walls and not enough bridges.”

It was already eighty-six degrees  and the humidity was 80 %  at 6:45 AM on Wednesday when we resumed our ride south on Rt 17.  We crossed the Neuse River in New Bern on a bridge that was battered by five hurricanes during its construction from 1995 until 1999.

It seemed sturdy enough, considering that there was: 49,000,000 pounds of steel; 200,000 cubic yards reinforced concrete ; 221,000 feet (just about forty miles worth) of pilings, drilled shaft, and piers; eight miles of bridge railing; and 40,000 feet (over seven miles) of concrete precast girders used in the … Continue Reading

Her grey hair is thick, full and  cut perfectly to frame her face. She has no noticeable furrows, brow lines or wrinkles in her skin, which has a soft and smooth appearance. She has avoided the pitfalls of spending to much time  in the sun. She is articulate, choosing her words wisely. She presents herself as comfortable and confident. We are sitting on wrought iron furniture on the front lawn of her modest brick home, under a tree, while the sun is low in the sky. If not for the hanging branches, the sun would be in her eyes. I am sweating … Continue Reading

We left Moe’s at around six o’clock on Monday morning. The cresting sun was hidden by low level clouds. It was cool, and the dew had drenched my bike.

We drove south on Interstate 95 to catch Rt.13 south of Norfolk. The sun slowly burned off the low lying clouds and filled the morning air with light and warmth.   We traveled in a south westerly direction on Rt.13 with the early morning angle of the suns light flickering a strobe effect through the trees while, we moved along at fifty five miles an hour.

As a New Yorker, I have grown accustomed to seeing grand-like churches and cathedrals built … Continue Reading

I visited with the Moe man for a day and a half on this journey.

He has been a better friend to me  than I have been to him. I love him for that. Despite my failings as a friend, he still calls me on my birthday, sends a card on the holidays, calls my wife and I on our anniversary. He shares  his most  intimate thoughts with me, bringing me in as one of his closest confidantes. I on the other hand rarely call anybody on their birthday, I no longer send out holiday cards and the only wedding anniversary date I am absolutely sure of is my own.  My wife can … Continue Reading