There’s nothing quite like the feeling of twisting a throttle on a crisp Oklahoma Sunday morning and knowing the whole family is right there with you… The road didn’t care that our original plan fell through. It just kept offering up pieces of Oklahoma history and a whole lot of family time.
Whenever business takes me through Henryetta, I stop by Grandpa Eli Maghe’s grave—and remember the World War I veteran, smelter man, and stubborn fishing partner who survived a ditch in France and was still canoeing the Illinois River in his mid-eighties.
After a hard mountain bike ride at Draper Lake, we sat at a picnic table. I had recently come through open-heart bypass surgery and was still struggling with a slow, complicated recovery. I did most of the talking, pouring out the setbacks and doubts. Across from me sat Denny Beitler—well into his seventies, body bent and marked by a lifetime of racing injuries—quietly listening with that familiar little twinkle in his eye. When I finally ran out of steam he leaned in just slightly and delivered six words that changed my attitude: “Sounds like an excuse to me.”
Back around 1912, in a little tar-paper shack out in the hills of northeast Oklahoma—Indian Territory days weren’t that far behind—my great-grandpa Tobe Smith lived the simple life. No running water, no fancy plumbing, just […]
You kids all know Levi, right? Good looking black Lab, best duck dog in three counties, and official backyard terror of anything with a shell. Levi loved turtles the way some dogs love tennis balls. […]