Seriously not serious...

Bike Clown © Not me, but I'm forever grateful.

“I think you use humor as a defensive mechanism.” “No shit? Well, that’s why you get my $30 copay.” Only half of that was actually said out loud, the other strongly thought.

I won’t take you through the whole origin story, but the part that’s significant to this particular tale is that I was the smart little fat kid that became a clown to keep from getting picked on, and to try and fit in somehow. It’s a whole lot more fun to get laughed with, than laughed at. This is not a new, or novel, tale and I didn’t use my version of it to go on to fame and fortune (well kinda, but that’s a different story).

I'm 60, so let’s call it 50 years, or more, that I’ve been playing the part. My auto-default-go to response to nearly any situation is a joke of some sort, literally have to be thinking hard not to. Sometimes it’s a gift you wouldn’t believe, a lot of times not. Who knew humor wasn’t the answer to everything? Beats the hell out of crying if you ask me, others have disagreed. A joke when your grampa died? Reading the room not always a strength either…watching a giant man break down in tears has a way of reminding you. This chronic condition has been diagnosed as "diarrhea of the mouth" by my medical team.

The funny isn’t always a shield. It can be deadly too. In this past medicated month of taking a squint at myself, I've agreed with what I’ve always known, jokes can cut with surgical results. I’ve dissected people, to their face, had them laughing along…and then the light comes on. Am I proud of this? I have been, sure, there’s been plenty of times someone needed to be taken down. There’s been other times when I’ve done it for sport. I’ve been the bully that I used the funny to hide from. Not my finest moments, and too many of them to even try to defend.

 The thing about hiding behind a wall of any sort, even one that can bring the giggles, is sure…nothing bad gets to you, but YOU don’t get out either. Congratulations! You’ve built, staffed, and filled your very own solo-sized maximum security prison. All you’re allowed to be is the character you created, or at least that’s what I’ve always thought.

I love, and take pride in being (I hope) funny. The thing I’ve come to see, is that it’s ok not to be. I can, and should, deal with the world with more than a joke and a laugh. In my defense though, to paraphrase the bard, Waylon, "I've always been funny, but it's kept me from going insane"

Go ride a bike and have a laugh. Seriously.

Making it...

Making It © Mike Moore Studios 2026

 Making it. There's not much in the way of bigger rushes, than simply making it. Make it with a little flair, or something extra? Even better! But still, just the simple act of making it keeps us coming back. This little hill in the picture above is steeper than it looks, and the approach has been cropped away so you can't see it all...what I'm trying to say is I was happy I made it. I was happy enough to lay my bike down, walk down the hill and try to take a pic that captured that feeling, not sure I made that, but you gotta keep trying.

Making it. I've spent most of my life on an island, I thought I was the only one "here", save for a few passersby. I thought I had depression. Doctors have agreed. In the last few years that diagnosis was amended to one of anxiety with depression. It's never been a picnic, but these were the cards I was dealt, and I've tried to deal with it as best as possible. I was making it.

Both my kids have been diagnosed with ADHD, it is apparently genetic. The gift that keeps on giving. I always thought the depression and/or anxiety label wasn't exactly right for me, that there were too many other components. My therapist and primary doctor both thought it a good idea for me to get an ADHD screening. Surprise, and no surprise! I got it, and I got it.

Making it. The doc added a new med and I'm about 2 weeks into it. I feel like my focus is improving, when I'm not wandering away chasing shiny squirrels. I'd decided early on I wouldn't weaponize my condition, wouldn't use it as an excuse. It is interesting to look back on my life through this new lens though. Being called lazy, accused of not paying attention, always sucked because it never felt right, I knew more was going on in my head right then, than had likely gone on it that person's ever. I understand better why I've never really been a "rah rah team player" kind of guy, why I'm not a fan of authority, why I question nearly everything, why the noggin never turns off, etc. etc. I think a lot of folks my age probably have it, but when we were kids unless you were just a completely hyperkinetic whirlwind...you were in the general population, and you played those cards I mentioned earlier. I guess we can blame the red Jello. Mental health care for children wasn't a public school priority in Texas in the 70s, nor is it likely now.

Making it, means carrying some baggage too. Part of me wants to apologize to everyone I've ever known that's had to put up with some less than rad version of me, but that would likely take a substantial amount of time, and effort, and I AM known for being a little lazy (😉), so I think I'll let that be. Another part is pissed that I have it, that I've had to deal with it, and worse...that I passed it to my kids. It is what it is, and knowing is better than not knowing, I'm making it, and life will most assuredly go on, but it would be cool to get some credit for time served.

I am eternally grateful to all those that made some space for me in their lives and here's hoping I made that space just a little better. At at least 2/3s of the way through on this ride, I'm admittedly tired of just making it. I'd like to excel a bit, "live up to my full potential", since apparently I never did. (Ouch! I guess we can put that in the things from the past that hurt a bit). Life is good, and getting better everyday. I've got my fingers crossed behind my back, but I'm stoked.

Good times!

Can We All Just Get Along?

"Tight Squeeze" © Mike Moore Studios 2026

 This is a fun hunk of trail about 3 miles from my front door. It's a semi fast downhill made more interesting by the narrow, nearly 100 yard, fence lined chute that starts it. If the fence doesn't maliciously reach out for your right grip in an attempt to pull you into its chainlink embrace, it's fairly smooth sailing after this. Usually.

Why "usually"? Because USUALLY that's all you have to worry about. There have been "incidents". See the big rock on the left in the grass? I've moved it out of the center of the trail twice. Rocks have been moved into, and out of, places in attempts to stop the wheels from rolling. Why? Is it just random mouth breathers with too much time on their hands kicking and throwing rocks simply for slack jawed giggles, or are there those that don't want to share? Probably a little from Column "A", and a little from Column "B".

These trails are designated multi-use and are multi-directional. Personally, as a mountain biker, I give hikers the right of way and I try to make sure they know I'm near. It doesn't always work. Earbuds, headphones, and ass-cheek ear muffs, have kept more than one hiker from knowing I'm there. I've scared a few. Multiply this a few times by riders who, maybe, aren't as courteous, and I can understand some bent feelings on the hiker's part. But sabotage? Why?!?! Luckily rocks have been it, no trail spikes, garroting wires, IEDs, or tiger traps. Does getting startled equate causing possibly severe bodily injury or worse?

"Can we all just get along?" was Rodney King's plea during the L.A. riots after he was beaten by 4 officers, who were later acquitted. While I'm not trying equate rocks on a trail to eons of racial inequality & violence, I am pointing out the divisiveness. The "Us vs Them" that has permeated our world. Does anyone even attempt to get along anymore? I'm asking myself that question too, as I'm as guilty as the next person. "That guy in the red cap is an @sshole." Is he really? Maybe, maybe not, doesn't matter, he's been tried and convicted and didn't even know he'd been charged. WTF? What happened to getting to know someone before you called 'em a d!ck?

I've never attempted to claim sainthood, not being Catholic helps, but I know I can do better. I definitely lean more "progressive" than "conservative", but that's no measure of diplomacy. We "progressives" can be just as closed, or narrow, minded as "them". We're just the other side of the same coin. Same? How can that be? Spoiler alert...'cause we're all human! Yep, it's true! Black, white, brown, red, yellow, liberal, conservative, gay, straight, cyclist, e-biker...all of us...HUMAN! It's hard wired into our DNA to want safety, comfort, & happiness, no problem there, the problem comes when we do it at the expense of others. Lame.

Can we all just get along? I'm just asking 'cause I've been over it all for a long time, even while participating. I'm tired of trying to figure out who "us & them" are at any given moment, on any given subject.

I've got the answer! We should all go ride our bikes! Don't worry about what anyone else is riding, or how they're riding it, just be happy that they're riding. If we all do that, it'll just be us, and we won't have to worry about them.

Good times! 

It Always Works Out...

"Sittin' Here Sittin'" © 2026 Mike Moore Studios

 "What're you doing Friday?" Not a dumb question, at all, in fact a welcome one.

"Hopefully riding my bike, what're you doing?" Might as well keep this little tennis match going.

"Taking the day off to go ride."

"Cool! Where do you wanna go?" It was Tuesday. There were big plans around the house that day, and my brain was a thousand different places, but I knew if I could allocate just a wee part of my gray matter to thinking about riding...I'd be in a happy place. 

"Don't care, just wanna go." Game on. Time to figure out some fun.

I turned my trail search engines up to high on Wednesday. There's basically 4, nearby, trail systems in good ol' Bell Co., TX., and we've ridden them all multiple times. Something new sounded good I thought. The top 2 contenders were either Ogletree Gap Preserve Park in Copperas Cove, TX or the 580 Trails in Lampasas, TX. The closest, Ogletree, was about 40 minutes away. That made the decision, less drive time, more ride time.

Friday morning rolls around 'bout the same time it always does, and Nick rolled into the driveway at his appointed time. We chatted as we loaded up, and were off. 40 minutes went by pretty quick, whether it was the conversation or ride anticipation, don't matter...trails were waiting.

Neither of us had ridden here before. There was a trail map sign at the trailhead, Trailforks on my phone in my pocket, and my Garmin had the trail on it as well. What could possibly go wrong?

It's easy to forget how comfortable a familiar trail is when you're faced with the lure of a new one. It's also easy to forget how frustrating an unfamiliar trail can be. "What's around that rock?" "Are we done climbing?" "Can I make it through there?" When to crank, and when to coast. New trails turn the chaos concert volume up to 11. Sometimes, that's a party on the pedals. Sometimes not so much.

Spoiler alert! This was a "not so much" version. Just couldn't get the rhythm right, neither of us, we'd turn a corner and not be ready for what ever was next. Even my  new titanium wonder machine wasn’t offering up any of it’s space metal magic. I dabbed and walked more times in the hour we were there than I had in probably the previous couple of months. Nick wasn't fairing much better.

"How close are we to the truck?" Nick asked first, but I had already been thinking it. I checked my phone for a detailed look. "Looks like a couple of different options, but here to here looks the fastest." "F@ck this place." "Yeah...kinda what I was thinking too." We both slammed a little water back, and took off down the trail. The last section was at least fast and fun, but the exit sign was calling.

"This sucks. I really wanted a good ride today. Let's go to Dana, or BLORA, or someplace." "Dana's closest to here." I offer "Sounds like a plan to me."

We loaded up, and headed out, by the time we were at the park's edge we both agreed that the trail "really wasn't that bad, and probably if you rode it more you'd like it a lot more, but f@ck driving all the way out here"

In the 20 minutes, or so, it took us to get to Dana Peak Park the less than stoked feelings about the first attempt to ride had clearly faded. We were laughing a ready to ride again, and for the next 2 hours that's what we did. It took at least that long afterwards to get the village idiot grin off my face.

It always works out.

ALL NEW!!!

"Jewel On The Run" © Mike Moore Studios 2026

I recently turned 60 years old. I'm not real sure how it happened, didn't try to avoid it per se, just assumed I wouldn't get that far. My father had a heart attack, that triggered a stroke, that killed him when he was 60. So between genetics and more than a few less than optimal "life choices" I figured the credits would've rolled by now. I guess I shouldn't get cocky, still not safe til 61 rolls 'round I reckon, but for the most part I'm feeling pretty solid, and stoked.

The bike you see above was my 60th birthday & Christmas present. It's a titanium framed work of art that I "built" from the frame up. I have "built" in quotations, because the only thing I actually physically did was put the water bottle cage on. The good folks at Blur Cycleworks, in Round Rock, TX. did the actual wrenching and fitting. It is BY FAR the nicest bike I've ever owned. It's a Revel Tirade titanium hardtail. I have craved and coveted titanium as long as I've been ogling bikes, to me it is has always been the ULTIMATE bike building material. It's SPACE METAL!

Because I'm me, I've never allowed myself to spoil myself. I've had tons of nice things in life that I'm forever grateful for, but I've never allowed myself to jump in the deep end dollar wise. Whether that comes from a modest upbringing, or what, I don't know. This time though, with the blessings of my beautiful better half, I decided to say "F@ck it". The funny thing is, even with carte blanche to go bat shit crazy, I still bought everything at the best possible deal I could find. Why wouldn't you? I also didn't just get the most blingy, expensive bits you could, favoring reliability and long term track records over the latest flavor.  I piled everything up over the holidays, snatching every Black Friday sale goody I could. I read reviews, counted grams, re-reread reviews, made choices, changed my mind, made other choices, and spent the necessary coin to obtain this dream.

It ain't all about the dolla dolla bills though. The price means nothing if the sum of the parts equals poop, even if you got it on sale. I'm more than happy to report that my sum came to a LOT more than poop. Every part has lived up to its marketing hype, and they all play more than nice together. Can I, as a mid level, upper middle aged, man hope to get EVERYTHING this bike has to offer out of it? Not likely, but I'm more than confident it'll have everything ready for me when I need it. There will not be an issue with the bike holding me back. It is honestly more bike than I need, and do you know what? I don't care! I'm 60, I've put in the miles. Do I deserve it? Does anyone?

Go ride, or doodle, or do something goofy.

Have Fun!

Hills to climb...

Hills to Climb © Mike Moore Studios 2025

 We've all got hills to climb. Sometimes they're quick and punchy, sometimes they seem to go on forever. Even with 12 speeds, the rough and rocky nature of this climb had me tapping out before I made it to the top. What to do? What else? Just keep going! Maybe you don't get to the top of the hill the way you intended, but find a way. Take a deep breath, or 50, have some of that water, then just start putting one foot in front of the other...you'll make it. When you get to the top, take a minute to look back and see what you've accomplished, feel good about it, then get back on and go. There will be more hills.

When I was younger, my only interest in hills was making it down them as quick as possible using whatever tricks I could find. Now, as I'm square dab in the silver years, I'm beginning to see the beauty, and necessity, of all sorts of hills. Not gonna lie, sometimes they straight up SUCK in a make you wanna puke sorta way. The relief you feel when you make it verges on transformative, if you let it. If you don't? Quite likely not the end of the world, it may feel that way at the time, but use your experience to make it up the next hill. Maybe it's a line choice, maybe someone else can help with some guidance, let you know how they made it. Listen and learn, take it to heart, but at the end of the day...the hills are up to you to climb.

Avoiding the hills won't make them go away, trust me I've tried, there will always be another one lurking. Face the hill, have a plan, and start climbing. Being at the top looking down, is infinitely better than being at the bottom looking up. The view from a tough hill you've made it up can't be beat.

Good Times!

Stop 'n smell em...

"Stop 'N Smell Em" © Mike Moore Studios 2025

 Been a minute. Probably shouldn't have been. Probably should've been writing something down, letting things out.

Stop 'n smell em, even if they ain't roses, see something more than yourself. There's beauty everywhere if you get out of your own way to see it. Take the time to escape to sunny places, avoid the dark crevices between your ears.

Good times (if you let em)!