My grandfather, from whom I was given my name, rode a motorcycle as a serviceman. After the war he worked at the General Motors assembly plant on the Hudson River and rode with a club in New York City. He built a life for our family in the Hudson Valley.

My father always had a bike and restored cars in high school. As did my uncles on both sides of my family. My first bike had a motor, gifted on my fifth birthday.

I grew up reading books, scratching in journals, and playing music with my friends. We drove the length of this country and other countries in vans and slept outside and in all manner of squats and venues. I kept a 35mm Minolta on my back.

On my 20th birthday I bought myself an old, white Lincoln that I would one day drive along the beach with my wife. I got a job selling motorcycles, then another selling older motorcycles, and eventually I began marketing and selling new cars.

I kept taking photos and I kept telling stories. I appreciate your being here.