From Thin Air: The Humanity Behind Building a Mission

Today, we’re going to talk about change. A lot is happening with Bikers Across The Nation. I started this from nothing — from thin air, from space. It’s surreal to know how far it’s come, and it hasn’t been without help. I’m truly humbled, grateful, and honored. Some of that help was temporary, and that’s part of the journey — people come and go as needed. That’s what it means to build something from scratch. There’s no perfect way to do it. You’ll fall on your face, you’ll make mistakes, partner with the wrong people, and take wrong turns. But praying and learning how to overcome are everything. It’s not easy to shift directions with a “from-nothing” concept, but it’s always worth it because the bigger mission is the real mission.

Just like how we learned in school to start with a blank page for a paper or a scientific project, building something new takes a leap from idea to creation. That’s how our Founding Fathers did it with the Declaration of Independence — not all stayed, not all signed, but each played a part. That same energy runs through this. As I’ve grown, I’ve realized this isn’t just a biker thing — it’s a human thing. That’s why I write: to explore what it means to build something real, raw, and needed. 

A lot of people are afraid to start unless something already exists. But this is where the foundation of Community Psychology comes into play — it’s about understanding people in context, observing systems, relationships, and gaps in care. It teaches us how to listen, how to see what’s missing, and how to co-create solutions that serve the greater good. Sometimes that means starting from a blank canvas — stepping back to ask: what are we building? Who is it for? What do we need that doesn’t exist yet? It’s not about having all the answers — it’s about the courage to begin. Support systems are important, but without you, the thought, the idea, the heart — none of it exists. 

I always say, “This concept isn’t about me,” and it’s true — but I had to build it so it could exist. I’m honored to hold space for this mission, and I honor those who have helped along the way. Even when personal relationships end, the mission remains, and I still care. That’s part of creating something greater than ourselves. We must give credit, support dreams, and protect the heart of what’s being built — even if Joe Blow from the backwoods assisted in the mission and did  something meaningful for us, he deserves recognition. Building something this human means being misunderstood sometimes. But the concept is not meant to be abused or controlled — it’s meant to help. When we talk about building something from nothing, we also have to talk about those who did it before us. 

   Harley-Davidson started in 1903 in a shed in Milwaukee, and it grew into an American symbol. But after World War II, something deeper formed: the soul of biker culture was shaped by veterans who came home and couldn’t relate to the world anymore. Riding became their therapy, motorcycles their vessels of freedom. They built the “biker way” from emotional need and experience — they didn’t just ride, they created a path forward. They weren’t trying to be rebels; they were trying to survive.

And that legacy evolved into today’s biker groups who serve, give, and protect. The bikers built the biker part — I built the human part. We come from that legacy. I’m not even a biker, but I’ve seen the lack of care for people, and I felt called to help fix it. I say often: I have fences and doors. Boundaries matter. But the concept is bigger than any of us. I want to live peacefully, read books, raise my son on a farm, and just be — because I’ve been through a lot in 37 years. I’m not perfect, but I am honest, real, and accountable. I live with anxiety, and ADHD. I’ve had to change my path to build something bigger than myself. It was a personal choice. No credit, or recognition I want. It is about the concept not me, and anyone specific. It is about the bikers.

I see others trying too — those who don’t get credit, who feel like the world’s against them. I’m praying for all of you, even those I no longer speak to because of hard decisions to just life getting in the way.

Whatever you’re building, I pray it’s filled with love and purpose. It will be hard. It might go unnoticed. Many artists only got recognition after death — and that’s okay. I’d rather live poor and help humanity than be rich and do nothing meaningful. I just want to be real, to be known for my humanity. I am honored to have this mission that came to me as I was active listening to understand a biker. Every lesson I’ve lived, every challenge I’ve faced, became the foundation for the humanitarian side of this biker movement. I pray that part shows. I pray it helps. I’m honored to listen to each and everyone of you. Thank you for allowing me to do that and build this with scratch to help in a human way with a group of individuals that have followed others for generations. It is a true honor. Thank you. I pray it does well.

Bike Night In Georgia