Happy Thanksgiving, California Riders

A Reflection on Gratitude, Community, and the Road Ahead

Every year, Thanksgiving arrives faster than I expect. One moment it’s late summer, the inland heat is rolling across the Central Valley, and the coastal fog is still clinging to Monterey Bay at dawn. The next moment the clocks change, the mornings feel colder, and the holiday lights start showing up on porches from San Diego to Redding. Suddenly the year that felt endless back in January is somehow almost over.

This season always makes me slow down — which is saying something, because lawyers aren’t known for slowing down. But Thanksgiving has a way of doing that. It forces a pause. It nudges you into reflection. And it opens up space to really think about the people who shaped your year.

For me, those people are California riders and the families who love them.

And if you’re reading this, whether you’re a veteran rider, a brand-new rider, someone healing from a crash, or someone grieving a loss you didn’t see coming, I want to start with something simple and sincere:

Happy Thanksgiving. I’m grateful for you.

It’s Been a Year of Intensity, Resilience, and Heart

Every year in California comes with its own rhythm. But this year felt especially heavy for riders. Maybe you felt it too — the unpredictability of traffic, the wild swings between scorching heat and sudden rain, the tourist congestion on Highway 1, the fires, the endless construction zones, the close calls on the freeways. It feels like every corner of the state had its challenges.

And then there were the crashes — each one a story, a life, a family. I’ve talked with people this year who had their entire world change in one second. I’ve talked with riders who did everything right, but someone else didn’t. I’ve talked with parents and partners trying to make sense of grief that still feels unreal months later.

No one prepares you for how fast everything can change on the road. But what struck me this year, and honestly, every year, wasn’t just the pain — it was the way riders and families kept showing courage in the middle of it. Strength in the middle of chaos. Grit in the middle of heartbreak.

I’m grateful I get to witness that kind of strength.
I’m grateful I get to learn from it.
And I’m grateful I get to stand with people through the hardest moments of their lives.

Riding in California Is Its Own Kind of Spiritual Experience

One thing that sets California riders apart is the sheer variety of places we ride. There’s nowhere else in the country — maybe nowhere else in the world — where you can start the day with ocean air in Big Sur, carve through the Santa Cruz Redwoods at noon, end up in vineyards outside Napa by mid-afternoon, and somehow still make it to the mountains and Lake Tahoe before dark if you felt like it.

California riding is a world of contrasts.

Coastal curves that make you feel like you’re gliding.
Inland straights where the heat radiates off the pavement.
Bay Area freeways where every second demands total awareness.
Mountain passes where the air gets cold fast and the world suddenly goes quiet.

And yet no matter where you ride, the feeling is the same:
That blend of independence and connection that only a motorcycle can give you.

You’re out there alone — completely exposed, making a thousand decisions a minute, totally dependent on your skills and awareness. But at the same time, you’re connected to everything.

Connected to the road beneath you.
Connected to the changing temperature as you climb or descend.
Connected to the landscape — redwoods, sagebrush, eucalyptus, ocean, dust.
Connected to every rider who nods as they pass you on a two-lane stretch of Highway 25 or up near Angeleno Heights or heading through Joshua Tree.

That paradox — alone but connected — is the heart of riding. And it’s the heart of the riding community.

California’s Rider Community Is Something Special

One thing I’m constantly grateful for is how riders in this state show up for each other. I’ve seen it again and again.

A bike goes down on the 101 — riders pull over.
Someone’s stranded on PCH — strangers become a pit crew in under five minutes.
A family loses someone — riders organize memorial rides, fundraisers, meals, support groups.
A rider’s struggling mentally or emotionally — someone steps in, listens, checks in, doesn’t let them disappear into their grief.

There is a depth of generosity in this community that you don’t always see in other parts of life. Riders don’t care about your politics, your job, your background, your age, or your bike brand. They care about whether you’re safe. Whether you’re okay. Whether you made it home.

That’s something rare.
That’s something worth celebrating.
And that’s something I’m thankful to witness every single day.

Why I’m So Grateful to Do This Work

This time of year makes me appreciate the meaning behind the work I do — not the legal side, not the mechanics of cases, not the paperwork — but the human part of it.

I get a front-row seat to the real stories of real people.

Stories of riders rebuilding their lives after devastating injuries.
Stories of families honoring someone they loved with courage, dignity, and strength.
Stories of people who refuse to give up even when life has knocked the wind out of them.

Being let into those stories is a privilege.
Walking alongside people during those chapters is an honor.
And helping them push forward into something better — even if “better” looks different for everyone — is something I never take lightly.

I’ve spent years fighting for people across this state, but it’s the humanity in every case that fuels me. The resilience of riders. The devotion of families. The community that refuses to let anyone suffer alone.

That’s what I carry with me into Thanksgiving.

California Families Carry a Lot Into the Holidays

The holidays can be complicated. They can be joyful and warm, but they can also be heavy — especially for people who are dealing with injuries, recovery, or grief.

Some families are celebrating their first Thanksgiving after a crash.
Some are celebrating their first holiday without someone who should still be here.
Some are navigating physical pain, emotional pain, or financial stress.
Some are facing the uncertainty of what the next year will bring.

Wherever you are on that spectrum, I want you to know something:
Your pain is real.
Your feelings are valid.
And you’re allowed to take this holiday at your own pace.

There’s no right or wrong way to move through the season. Some people surround themselves with family. Some take a quiet ride up the coast to clear their head. Some light a candle. Some stay home. Some talk. Some don’t.

There’s room for all of it.

The Road Ahead

As we close out the year, I’m taking stock of everything I’ve seen — the heartbreak, the victories, the healing, the setbacks, the moments of courage. And I’m thinking about the year ahead, knowing that the work continues and that the community continues to inspire me.

California riders are a powerful reminder of what resilience looks like in motion.
Of what independence looks like when it’s grounded in community.
Of what passion looks like when it’s matched with responsibility.
And of what connection looks like when we choose to show up for each other.

I’m grateful for every rider I’ve met, every family I’ve talked with, and every story people have trusted me with this year.

From My Family to Yours — Happy Thanksgiving

So wherever Thanksgiving finds you — at home, with family, on duty, working, resting, or taking a quiet moment somewhere along Highway 1, the Grapevine, or the Sierra foothills — I hope you feel a little warmth this holiday.

I hope you find a moment of peace.
A moment of gratitude.
A moment of connection.
And maybe even a moment on the road, where the world feels big and small at the same time.

Thank you for being part of California’s rider community.
Thank you for your spirit, your generosity, your resilience, and your strength.

Happy Thanksgiving — from my family to yours.