Born from Dust, Built in Dirt

The evolution of vision:

Buying your first motorcycle isn’t as simple as walking into a shop and picking what looks cool. It’s a choice that shapes the kind of rider you’ll become. Ask yourself: What kind of riding do I want to do? Adventure, street, dirt—it all starts with choosing the right vessel.

Here’s the truth: unless you’re buying old bikes and know how to wrench, you’re going to lose money experimenting. That’s just part of the game. But if your goal is to ride—and ride now—you’ve got to jump in.

And once you do, gear matters as much as the bike. Don’t cheap out on a helmet—Arai, Shoei, and Klim are the only three I trust. Boots protect the only legs you’ve got. Jackets are barebones off-road, but on the street, leather is king. Pants? Keep it simple unless you’ve got Klim money—and gloves, always reinforced. Protection isn’t optional. It’s survival.

But look—you didn’t click this blog to get lectured on gear or hear me justify dropping five grand on boots, jackets, and helmets over the years. Yeah, I’ve made mistakes, but that’s not the story. My story is this: no rider ever settles with just one bike. The KTM 690 Enduro R comes closest to being a do-it-all machine, but even then, having two bikes—each built for its own fight—just makes sense. You don’t buy a cruiser to carve corners, and you don’t buy a Ducati for lazy Sunday rides. Choose wisely, and make sure your wife doesn’t kill you when bike number two rolls into the garage.

The last five years in my garage have been just as much about transformation as they have about bikes. Back in 2018, I picked up a white Ducati Hypermotard right after selling my 2017 Honda CRF 250L. Around the same time, I sold my Zuma 50cc scooter and turned it into a CRF 150RB Supermoto project. It didn’t start out that way, but it turned into something wild.

If we go further back, it’s a rabbit hole—Harleys, Groms, old-school Hondas. But the last five years? They’ve been monumental. This was the era I shifted almost completely into dirt, leaving most of the street life behind. It stopped being about collecting toys and started being about evolving—a transformation that really started way back with building street cars.

That 2017 Ducati Hypermotard and the 2013 Honda CRF 150RB were the first real players in that switch. I bought the 150RB thinking I’d build a “Grom killer.” Fun idea for a winter project—until I realized the motor would grenade if I actually tried to street it. Still, it turned into a badass little build and pulled some real attention on YouTube.

What really shifted everything, though, was the COVID lockdowns. That’s when I made the leap, took on some debt, and committed to experiencing the outdoors the way I wanted—on my own terms. My version of freedom.

2017 Ducati Hypermotard 939

After building and absolutely riding the shit out of the CRF 250L, it became my workhorse. Built for the street, chasing the supermoto life after linking up with my riding homie Tyler Wortman. That bike felt like the turning point—my gateway into speed, style, and looking good while doing it.

But the truth is, the Ducati changed everything. The L-twin is a special beast—torque you feel deep in your gut when you crack the throttle. It pulls forever, screaming to redline. That bike lived at 85mph, bending into any direction I threw it. I loved it so much I eventually stepped up to a brand-new Ducati Hypermotard 950.

Meanwhile, my obsession with supermoto had me chasing another project—a full ground-up build I could completely make my own. I wanted people to know: I don’t fuck around when it comes to dropping cash into a bike. The timing was wild. COVID was just starting to sweep the world, and I had just been brought in as a partner with a local restaurant group, my income suddenly way higher than it had ever been.

What I didn’t realize was that this chapter—the mix of Ducati speed and custom supermoto grind—wasn’t the endgame. It was the setup. Because around that time I started riding with a different crew, guys who lived in the dirt year-round. That’s when the shift hit. The overland lifestyle swept over me the same way The Fast and the Furious once made me want to build a ‘93 Honda. And just like that, my path veered off pavement for good. We will dive further down that wormhole in a bit, keep reading.

What a marvel of a build—absolutely legendary. It rode as good as it looked, but after finishing it and hearing from friends how quickly it could grenade on the street, I made the call to throw it on Marketplace and start hunting for the next machine.

Back then, I had a system: always two bikes. One carried a loan—usually a Ducati—and the smaller projects I paid cash for. This one was all mine. I had about $5,000 into it and when I sold it in April 2020, I broke even.

Meanwhile, the white Ducati was creeping up in miles, needed fresh tires, and that dreaded desmo service was looming. Rather than sink money into it, I sold it shortly after picking up my next bike - The 2019 Ducati Hypermotard 950.

Now, the red Ducati? That one I probably shouldn’t have bought. But obsession with the L-twin got the better of me, and the timing was too perfect—a nomad buddy rolled through North Carolina in his Sprinter just as the deal came together. Right place, right time. We’ll dive into that Ducati first, then circle back to the FE350—the bike that truly started to transform everything for me.

2019 Ducati Hypermotard - 950

The red Ducati didn’t last long. A couple of close calls was all it took to realize the street wasn’t it—at least not the way I was chasing it. I was all-in on going fast, but riding solo killed half the fun. Of course, I went full baller with the leathers, only to lose my ass on them later. Not long after, the bike itself was gone—sold off to some crypto kid in a deal that felt sketchy from start to finish.

But that’s when things started to get interesting. The FE350. Tyler Wortman vouched hard for Wheel Sports, this dealership just outside of town. As soon as I let the CRF150RB SM go, I called them up, and Wally told me he had one leftover model he’d hook me up with. The stars lined up, and I drove out to pick up what would become my first real dirt bike.

It was love at first sight. I still remember ripping it around the neighborhood that first night. The rush hit different—like I finally had a machine that lined up with how I wanted to ride. Nothing felt in my way anymore. And just like that, the modding began.

The FE350 is where everything started to shift for me. At first, I honestly thought I’d found the ultimate motorcycle. It checked every box: a badass trail bike, geared to rip dirt, but still capable of hopping on the street when I needed. A commuter, a trail warrior… and eventually, a straight-up embarrassment in tight technical single track—but we’ll get to that part later.

Out of the gate, it was fairly stock. First thing I had to do was desmog and retune it—anyone who’s owned one knows they come lean from the factory, and I was sick of the flameouts. I ran the stock tubes and tires for that first year because, truth is, I had to save up just to gear myself properly for dirt. On top of that, I had to build a network—find some homies to actually ride with—because at that point, I was still green as hell.

I remember those first trail rides clear as day. I was in great shape, but the bike humbled me. I didn’t have the supporting muscles or the technique yet, and like every new dirt rider, I had to start slow. Wayne National Forest became my proving grounds—I stuck to the main trails, finding my rhythm. But once I started linking up with friends, guys who were operating on a much higher level, everything changed. They pushed me in the woods, and that’s when I really started to grow as a rider.

Season one was in the books, and right around then Uncle Sam dropped that “stimulus package” money into my account. I didn’t need it—but I sure as hell wasn’t sending it back. So I blew it on a set of supermoto wheels I scored for a steal. I had to supermoto it. No question.

At the same time, I finally grabbed a proper set of dirt tires and went tubliss. Game changer. Tires and pressure in the woods are everything—they’ll make or break your ride. With that setup dialed, the FE350 started to feel less like a stock bike and more like my bike.

The FE350 was starting to take shape—looking sharp on the street while trying to hold its own on the trails. I say “hold its own” loosely, because my friend Daniel could ride the literal shit out of his KTM 350, and I was barely keeping up in the technical stuff. That’s when it hit me: the FE350 was holding me back. I needed a real weapon for the woods, and a four-stroke wasn’t the way. By this point, the red Ducati had been gone for about a year, the FE350 was paid off, and I was in a solid financial spot. Most extra funds were going into my 2018 Tacoma—there’s a separate blog post covering that overland evolution.

Perfect timing. I reconnected with an old friend, Adam Sams, who I used to build Hondas with—he worked as a Sherco factory mechanic alongside a hard-enduro racer with serious sponsors. Through them, I landed Cody Webb’s play bike: a fully built Sherco 300, ready to be beaten on.

Below are some of my favorite shots of me and the bike in the dirt, capturing the evolution of my riding. I’ve fast-forwarded a season here, but hey—I’m not writing a book.

The FE350 made me realize I was hooked on riding dirt. I fell in love with the freedom to explore, being immersed in nature, and the pure joy of movement. Around the same time, I was building an overland vehicle and leveling up the hobby. True to my style, I move slow—but when I commit, I go all in.

I sold the FE350 in January 2023, breaking even just as the economy was booming. That’s when Chaise offered me a deal on his 2022 Sherco 300 I couldn’t pass up, and my bike arsenal started to shift. I’d been dabbling in adventure riding with the FE350 and loved the versatility, while street riding no longer gave me the same thrill. The Sherco became my dirt-smoker weapon, and to fully embrace adventure, I picked up a 2023 Husqvarna Norden 901.

I chose the Norden 901 over the KTM 890 Adventure R because it checked boxes I cared about—it could eat highway miles, it looked badass, and it was marketed as an “adventure bike” that could hold its own in the dirt. Watching other riders send these bikes off-road sold me on the idea, and I envisioned keeping it for years. At first, I loved it. It had plenty of power—just as much horsepower as my old Ducati—but with the capabilities of the FE350. I dove deep into the adventure world, started piecing together my solo camp setup, and felt the nomad spirit rising. After circling Lake Erie in 2023, I was dead set: this was the move.

That winter I needed something to wrench on, so I grabbed a Honda Grom. I originally had my eyes on a Honda Monkey or a CT125, but they hold their value and people ask top dollar for them. I wasn’t about to pay a premium for a beat-up turd, so I went with the 2023 Grom instead—5-speed transmission, different styling, and the same small-bore fun: going slow, squealing tires, and mobbing around in a group.

I’ve always loved building, so naturally I spun up an adventure build. Pegs, bars, tidy tail, high-mount exhaust, knobbies—the usual. My buddy Matt Carroll was always talked about how much he loved having knobbies on his Grom; if you don’t know Matt, he’s basically the pioneer of Grom shenanigans in Columbus—a true small-bore legend.

I turned mine into my own version of an adventure bike, took it on a couple trips, and even rode it through fresh powder. Pure fun, start to finish!

1972 Honda CB550 “Vanessa”

This journey goes all the way back to college, when I built my first bike—a 1972 Honda CB500 that eventually became a CB550 after the engine gave out. Even then, I was chasing the evolution of my vision and style, learning through trial, error, and persistence. That first project wasn’t just about the bike—it was about building something with my own hands, shaping raw metal and old parts into a machine that reflected who I was becoming.

2022 Sherco 300 - Built by Cody Webb (Formerly with Sherco - now with Yamaha)

Then came the wake-up call in 2024. When Ryan finally bought a Tenere 700 (after I basically pressured him into it), we took a trip through Ohio and hit the GOAT. It was my first real outing on the Norden—just gravel roads, nothing technical—and that’s when it all clicked. April 2024: this bike is not capable off-road. Sure, if you enjoy lugging around a heavy beast, maybe. But even on gravel, it felt like an overweight sofa. The tank and ergonomics worked great on the highway, but in the dirt? Forget it. Don’t get me wrong—it was fun—but it felt unstable, and the limits showed up quick.

At the same time, life hit me hard. I was unemployed, unloading gear I’d bought back when I was a partner in a business. Naturally, the Norden went on Marketplace. I lost my ass on that one—over seven grand gone. Lesson learned: don’t buy brand-new bikes. Still, it went to a solid dude who had the same high hopes I did—until he realized it was too pretty to thrash in the woods. The bike that replaced it was a KTM 690 Enduro R, and let’s just say the stars aligned on that one…but I’ll save that story for later.

Meanwhile, the Sherco was still the bike changing everything for me. It accelerated my progression in the sport like nothing else. Suddenly everything felt easier, and I could focus on technique—pushing past limits I didn’t even know I had. But the real shift wasn’t just in skill; it was in mindset. Surrounded by the right people, the sport became something bigger. The mindfulness that comes from this kind of riding is hard to explain—you start realizing that the lessons learned in the dirt—commitment, self-belief, and pushing past limits—are the same ones that matter in life.

The Grom went first then the Norden to Follow. The TRD Off-Road 4Runner was next after that stuff, along with that clamshell rooftop tent that barely lasted two months on the truck before I cut it loose. At the time, I was dead set on paying cash for everything. I was running a commercial photography company, consulting on the side, and basically scratching and clawing my way through.

Then I landed a big consulting gig, and my mind was made up: two pumpkins. The Grom turned into a KTM 250 EXCF, and the Norden would be replaced by a KTM 690 Enduro R. That’s when things got interesting. I had sold so much gear that I was able to rework the garage and take these purchases in steps.

This life and this love for riding—it’s my passion, my escape, my anchor. Yeah, sometimes the habit has been unhealthy, but I’ve never borrowed a dime from anyone. For about five months, I was fully self-sufficient, and for the first time in a long time, I was happy. My days shifted toward creating, having fun, and just getting by. I felt the thrill and rapture of being an entrepreneur—making money for myself, building something out of nothing. It was fucking awesome.

That’s when photo and video became my true focus. I realized my purpose all along has been to share these riding experiences, this passion, through YouTube and content creation. That’s where my energy belongs.

Anyhow, back to the moto blog. This one is a doozy! Imagine the 5 years leading up to this lol.

The KTM 250 EXCF was a 2017 I picked up from a pastor who was aging out of the Enduro game. He’d taken great care of it, and for a moment I thought I was stepping back into the same groove I had with the FE350. The bike needed a little elbow grease, so I tore into it.

I added a handful of simple parts, swapped out the oil pump gear (a known weak spot on those older KTMs), reinstalled the stock roost guards, threw on a fork wrap, and ditched the obnoxious bar risers. I desmogged it, retuned with a Smile fuel tuner, and even tracked down a set of mint stock plastics. Wrapped it up with fresh Dunlops, and it was looking clean—dialed in, solid setup.

But here’s the thing: I got bored fast. After a couple of months, I listed it, broke even, and moved on. No harm, no foul. Just another chapter in the garage logbook.

Meanwhile, the Sherco stayed put. That bike was—and still is—a lethal weapon, serving its purpose every time I swung a leg over it. But as the 250 EXCF rolled out, the garage started feeling strangely empty. Just one bike left. Weird times.

The 4runner turned into a Tesla … read into the next blog for that story… it lasted 45 days lol. Toyota for life.

Naturally, that’s when I decided to go all in on the KTM 690 Enduro R.

The Vision and Obsession

Images like this one were constantly being looked at, studied and researched. I am the type of person that finds pleasure in reading and learning about motorcycle parts, the chase is what gets me rollin. I had made up my mind - but I was still unemployed, making ends meet but was in no position to buy another motorcycle.

After months of searching, I finally tracked down a KTM 690 Enduro R just a couple hours outside Columbus. I stayed in constant contact with the seller—May through July of 2024—just grinding it out. On one hand, I thought about taking a small loan to close the gap, but on the other, I was dead set against debt. No steady job, money was thin, and I was running out of things to sell.

I trusted the universe had more in store, but I stayed patient. Then two big things hit. First, I got recruited back into the restaurant world in late June—same leadership role I’d had before, strong group, steady paycheck.

Second—bad for the seller, but fate for me—his wife asked for a divorce. Brutal for him, but it cracked the door wide open. This was the bike I’d been waiting for: original owner, just over 2,000 miles, ridden soft, already rocking the exact upgrades I would’ve done myself. One day he called me up and said, “I’ll sell it for whatever you’ve got in your account.” He needed to liquidate fast, and the stars finally lined up.

That Monday, I got a ride to Dayton and rode it home. I can still feel it—ripping down the expressway, wind in my face, that rush of nomadic freedom I’ve been chasing since I was twelve years old. Out of all the bikes I’ve owned, this one finally made sense. Sure, someday I’ll get the itch for something new, but the 690 was the bike that pushed my vision further. My unicorn moto. The one that lit the path.

So the modding began. And here’s the best part—it’s still my prized possession. I own it outright. No loans, no payments. 100% mine. And I got it for an absolute steal. Resale is always in the back of my mind, but let’s be real—this bike isn’t going anywhere anytime soon. In the video below I break down all of the specifics around why I love the KTM 690 and all of the mods I have made on it, give it a watch and start looking at the 690 differently.

In closing—riding and creating isn’t just what I do, it’s who I am. This vision keeps me moving, and I’m not slowing down anytime soon. The support means everything, and this 2020 KTM 690 is the workhorse carrying the mission forward.

Stick around, the story’s just getting started.