A Journal for Two-Wheeled Lives
Every Road Has a
First Paragraph.
US-50, Nevada. 4,200 miles. The ride that made the journal necessary.
It started with a wrong turn on US-50 and a notebook left on the tank bag.
Seven days. One sleeping bag. A CB750 with 68,000 miles and a leaking fork seal that I kept meaning to fix. The Loneliest Road in America turned out to be exactly the right place to start writing — not because of what I saw, but because of how much time there was to think between towns.
I came back with 14 pages of handwritten notes, three rolls of film, and the uncomfortable realization that motorcycle journalism had largely forgotten how to sit with a moment. That's what Throttle is fixing.
Long-form matters in a swipe-past world because some roads deserve more than a caption.
Throttle publishes slowly and deliberately. One ride report, fully developed. One teardown, photographed like a still life. One route, written by someone who got lost first and found the good road second. No content calendar. No algorithm. Just work worth waiting for.
Four spokes.
One direction.
Each category is a promise: we go deep, we stay specific, and we write like the reader has already pulled a chair up to the bench.
The Alaska Highway in October
Rebuilding a CB350: Month Three
The Loneliest Road: A Field Guide
18 Months in a Single Jacket
"The carburetor float was stuck open. I knew this because gasoline was running down the outside of the engine. I chose to continue anyway. This is called commitment, or possibly a different word."
Rebuilding a CB350: Month Three, Week Two
The valves came out of the head looking like they'd been used as ashtrays. Pitting on the exhaust side, carbon deposits on the intake, and a seat surface that my feeler gauge disagreed with at every single measurement. This is normal for a bike that sat in a barn for eleven years. I knew this going in.
What I didn't know — what you can't know until you're sitting on a concrete floor at 11 PM with a valve lapping compound on your hands and a cold cup of coffee beside a notebook — is how satisfying it is to make something run again that everyone else decided wasn't worth fixing.
Save Me a Seat.
The journal isn't live yet. But when it is, the people on this list read it first — before anyone else, before the algorithm, before the announcement.