i've been shooting harley-davidson commercials for the past few days. and i'm sold. not even so much on the bikes--which are gorgeous and powerful and just plain cool. i'm totally, completely sold on the people who ride them. i love big, burly, bearded men with grizzled faces and arms lined with tattoos. i love women who laugh too loud, call me honey and have the confidence to get off the back of the bike and onto the front. these are cool people. they call fellow harley riders "family." they ride for charity. they love the feel of the sun, the smell of the rain and the sound of a v-twin engine (see, i even learned a thing or two). i found myself mesmorized by their stories. one of the sales guys--his silver hair in a ponytail down to his waist--was so excited to show me "his" bikes it was like talking to a little kid about christmas. i wanted to hug him. and i really, really wanted to hug the gruff guy in the back--the guy with the long beard and the soft blue eyes. he reminded me of my dad.

maybe that's why i loved this shoot so much. deep down, i am a mountain man's daughter. i don't belong in fancy social circles. i don't even like them. i'm much happier hanging with the harley rider's and the cowboys, the coal miners and the good ol' boys. i think my dad would be proud to hear me say that.

i know that i am.