Photo Credit: The Amazing Jose Sandoval Part One: This is How We Die Part Two: Paint My Coffin Pink Part Three: Pour My Ashes in Slate Olson’s Coffee Famous last words. Remember them well: “All we have to do is get up Dixie Mountain and we’ll be ok.” All we have to do is get [...]

Last year I had the pleasure of covering a Bike First camp for my column in the Oregonian. In the piece, I describe involuntarily bursting into tears after watching a young girl with austism take her first unassisted pedalstrokes.  If you missed, you can catch it here – it’s a quick read. I’m happy to [...]

We're not normal. I know this. I've known this ever since the day so many years ago when I proposed to Sal that we ride our bicycles to the nearest cafe for lunch. "But what will we do with the bikes?" He looked truly perplexed. "We'll just lock them up," I suggested casually. I had my sights set on a bagel sandwich, and the weather was immaculate. The Sicilian's brow crumpled in a way that I'd not witnessed in our two years together.