That Moment When You Realize That You’re Fine With Being A Soccer Dad

In recent days, there’s been much discussion among my fans/haters (who are really just fans under a different name) comparing my dear brother and me. Frankly, this is a stupid comparison, and it wouldn’t exist if we didn’t share both a name and a blog. We have had remarkably different lives, separated by six years, eight grades in school (Jack skipped two grades, and when the school wanted to do the same with me, my parents declined, with my father saying that advancing Jack was the “greatest mistake of his life”), and nearly completely different interests.

In fact, there are only four things in which we’ve ever shared an interest.

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I Have An Obligation To You

Let me start by saying this: To anybody who’s ever read a single word I’ve written, thank you. Even if you think I’m an idiot, a fool, and “a mere shadow of my brother,” I’ll still say thank you. Over the last five years, I’ve written nearly half a million words that have found their way into publication, and if weren’t for the people who both love and hate what I have to say, none of that would have been possible.

As such, I have an obligation to you. But it might not be what you think it is.

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Merry Christmas, Bronchitis, Retrospective, Blah Blah

WordPress isn’t working well right now. Assume a really cool photo here-Bark

As 2016 draws to close, I’m entertaining a guest who always seems to visit me around this time of year—bronchitis. I felt it coming on at the end of the day yesterday, hacked all night to the point where I pulled the muscles on the right side of my ribcage (which meant that I was now coughing up a lung and in severe muscular pain every time that I did it), and I’m now on my second dose of Mucinex for the day. Oh, well. I’ve been getting bronchitis since I was a child, and I’ve survived every other bout with it. No doubt this one will end up with the same result.

However, my desire to do nothing other than sit on a couch and drink fluids means that I’m going to get my 2016 retrospective in a few days before everybody else does. Yay, me!

So what did 2016 mean to me? Oh, man. As any of the professional athletes giving insightful interviews after games might say about what that most recent win meant to them, It meant everything. 

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Busman’s Holiday


It’s one of my favorite English (as in Merrie Olde England) phrases: busman’s holiday. As a child, I was able to elicit the meaning from the context in which I normally read it: to take a busman’s holiday is to work, or at the very least to visit your workplace, on your day off. But what is a “busman”, and why do they work on their days off?

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I’m No Photographer…

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…but I’m not displeased with this one. Danger Girl on a cloudy Mid-Ohio Saturday afternoon, heading towards the Honda bridge. And I took it in “M” mode on the Rebel, setting everything but the focus myself.

When I see the results of my own “work” behind the camera, however, it reminds me how lucky I am to work with people like Andrew Trahan, Jamey Price, Sean Klingelhoefer, Evan Klein, Peter Dawson, Ryan Doede, Matt Tierney, Puppyknuckles Dave, and several others. The challenge that I have is writing something that will make you forget all that visual bullshit.

Just kidding.

Kind of.

Enjoy (what’s left of) your weekend, everybody!

Your Chance To Buy The Knife That Almost Got Me Fired


Massdrop is selling the Cold Steel Recon Tanto this week; in fact, they’re selling all sorts of Tantos. If you join Massdrop using this link then eventually I will receive free stuff valued at up to ten dollars. Thirteen readers have already done so; thank you!

I’ve been a Recon Tanto owner for more than twenty years. I love this knife to death. It can do all sorts of things. As my infamous pal Rodney can well attest, at least one of those things will get you fired — if anybody finds out.

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I Never Forget



Does life ever feel too luxurious for you?”

A long-time friend of mine texted me those words tonight. It’s not hard to see why. After all, I’ve basically been assaulting the social media feeds of my friends with what seems like the most luxurious life a quote-unquote normal person could lead.

A weekend behind the wheel of a supercar with one of my best friends in the world. A first-class flight to Miami, where a waterfront suite awaited. Custom sunglasses sent to me as a congratulations for driving that supercar to the top of the podium. I won’t lie—sometimes I sit back and wonder how in the world I got to where I am today.

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There’s a War Going On


Some of you might have read my post yesterday on TTAC. I don’t have anything else to say about the gentleman (I don’t want to help his SEO presence any more than I already have) in question or his “work,” as I believe that it speaks for itself.

However, I feel that there’s a gap between what I would call the real writers in this business of automotive writing and the, well…I won’t use the word that Katt Williams would use. I’ll call them the Frauds.

I’m thankful that Mark Stevenson, my Managing Editor, has given me the space on TTAC to mercilessly expose the “writers” who suck on the collective teat of the OEMs for their very sustenance. I was text messaged by no fewer than five writers whose opinions I greatly respect yesterday, all saying that they wished they could do the same. I don’t take that freedom lightly.

I do, however, feel uncomfortable at times with the notion that there are truths that some don’t want to say. If there’s a Fraud out there, writing reviews about cars that are nothing more than copy/paste jobs from the press kits, why shouldn’t he or she be exposed? Why does it take a “Bark” to do it?

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