You know a place is bound to be good when the line is a block long before the doors even open. That’s not advertising — that’s testimony. We arrived at Randy’s Cheeseburger in Foley just before opening time, and sure enough that line was stretched out like folks were waiting to board a lifeboat. We finally got inside and discovered a menu of uncommon simplicity and remarkable confidence. Chicken? Nope. Fish? Nope. BBQ? Nope. Salad? Not even as a joke. Cheeseburgers — that’s i

Bobby is the proud owner of a 2026 Indian Pursuit. When ya see Bobby thumbs up for Da Man

We finally contrived to have us a Skills Sunday, and none too soon, for the sort of ridin’ that keeps a man alive has a powerful tendency to turn to rust when the weather turns mean. All winter long them good habits sit out in the shed like an old plow, and by spring they squeak, balk, and complain. But today we fetched ’em out, oiled ’em up, and knocked the rust off proper. Eight  Sandies showed, and between the skills practice and the wanderin’ about after in pursuit of foo

I confess right off the bat that this little account is a shameless borrowing from the notion of the Ides of March. Mr. Shakespeare may object, but as he ain’t here to complain, I will steal the reference. Five  Sandies set out and traveled 135  miles through the Southern countryside, the sort of country that makes a man believe spring was invented here first and merely exported to the rest of the world afterward. The dogwoods were showing off in white and pink, the azaleas w

Well now—what a day it was. Why, it was the sort of day that comes only with early spring the calendar and dares you not to grin at it. A body could scarcely keep from breaking into a chorus from  Oklahoma! —but I shall exercise to spare you from me breaking into a rousing chorus. Suffice it to say, it was a glorious day to be astride a motorcycle, with the sun minding its manners and the breeze behaving like it had been properly introduced. And speaking of motorcycles, they