There’s an irony I’ve been sitting with lately.

Back when I ran my bike shop, we sold some beautiful bikes, custom wheelsets, custom builds, high dollar gear that made your heart race just looking at them. And I loved that. There’s something special about good gear. The craftsmanship. The performance. The quality.

But here’s the thing: none of it matters without a place to ride.

At the same time I was running the shop, I was pouring countless volunteer hours into helping build a trail system in the national forest – the first ride center in the US. It was a passion project. Maybe even a quiet attempt to build a hybrid life, owning the shop in town while helping shape the riding experience in the wild.

Because I saw it clearly: you can’t sell adventure in a box.
You need access.
You need place.
You need the ride.

And now, that vision has only expanded.

We’re living in a new era of movement, OneWheels, electric unicycles, e-skates, e-bikes, e-moto. These stealthy, flow-filled machines unlock the same stoke and presence I’ve always chased, but they have no home. No infrastructure. No true welcome.

I know the feeling. I ride these machines.
I’ve coasted through greenways, dipped into dirt paths, even glided through neighborhoods… and felt the joy die the second I get that look, or worse, get booted.

That booted feeling? It kills the vibe.
Not because I did anything wrong, but because the places haven’t caught up to the movement.

That’s why I go back to something I tried years ago, something that still lights me up.

I was one of the first, if not the first, to host a OneWheel event in South Carolina. It was held at the Southeast Outdoor Adventure Center: 125 gorgeous acres between Charleston and Columbia. It was my weekend getaway, my happy place. And when we held that first ride event, only about 25 people showed up.

But man, the smiles. The stoke. The connection.
I saw what a ride center could be.

And then – COVID hit.
And just like that, it ended before it began.

Why share this now?
Because I’ve done it.
I’ve seen it.
The trails, the laughter, the pure goodness of people in motion.

And here’s the truth: the timing wasn’t right then.
But it is now.

We don’t need fewer trails, we need more.
More open space. More acceptance. More gathering places where movement, whatever form it takes, isn’t a nuisance, but a celebration.

So yeah… it’s not about the bike.
Or the board.
Or the wheels.

It’s about the ride.
And rides need a home.

Let’s build one!