My grandfather, from whom I took my name, road 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 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. 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.