portraiture

It’s Saturday afternoon. I’ve got a good head-start on 365 today, having run into Myly at the local farmers’ market gone art-wild.

At 51 days, my family has been patient. Sacrificing seeing me, even throwing me out of the house to work on 365. For the sake of wife and daughter, today I think I’m going to get right to the point. There is a window of opportunity opening to spend some meaningful afternoon time with them, so in collapsing my writing time, I’ll simply summarize how I meet Myly.

7:00am – Alarm sounds
7:01am – Hit 10 minute snooze (or so I think)
8:15am – Awake (Holy Heck! Crazy late for day)
8:30am – Out door with family
8:32am – Embark on drive to teach spinning
8:55am – Arrive at gym (class starting at 9:00am)
9:00am – Class grimaces at site of me dressed as Little Miss Muffet (its Halloween after all)
9:05am – Realize chicks dig a man in a tutu and men are inspired by my courage
9:10am – Kick into high gear for one hour of pedaling euphoria
10:00am – Class over. Hang out in front of gym waiting for wife and daughter to pick me up
10:30am – Approach cool deaf dude. He rejects me and leaves area
10:30 to 11:30am – Lick my wound as I chat with gym friends
11:50am – Family arrives to rescue me from 365 denial.
12:30pm – Meet Myly at the Canoga Park Farmers’ Market – On Ownensmouth, between Sherman Way and Wyandotte.

Part artistic dreamer, part entrepreneur and master of community outreach, Myly is full of energy. For an hour we speak of the past and future of the Canoga Park art and culture scene. There is no loss of enthusiasm in her council to all, “Don’t settle. Find what you are passionate about and go for it!” A thought that I’m sure we have all entertained from time to time.

Myly lives what she preaches. She tells me of her recent layoff of employment, “I was freaked at first, but them I realized it was a gift.” She has not looked back.

She tells me, “As a child I always collected things.” Things that became treasures to her. Things that she reused to feed her artistic self. She tells me, “I’ve never thought of myself as an artist, but more of a business person.” We talk of her childhood and her remembrance of, at a very young age, selling necklaces that she made for other people’s discards. I’m told, “I never dreamed that I would one day be supporting myself with the stuff I make. It’s totally rad.”

Yet Myly is more that an emerging artisan; she is a community activist. She shares with me her role in organizing a very successful art walk; one that takes place every year in Canoga Park. As we hit this point in our conversation the topic turns away from herself and toward the local businesses. “Before we started the Canoga Park Art Walk there were many vacant buildings on Sherman Way (the street that hosted the art walk), but the event is reshaping the visibility of the area and now many of the empty spaces are slowly filling with new businesses: several thrift shops, art galleries, restaurants, boutiques and performance venues. “We are only just starting the outreach and the community is responding to it.”

I give her a title, “Leader of the Community Brigade.” She smiles and expands on the title. “My goal is to turn this farmers market into an artistic destination.” Right now, and with the support of the farmers market vendor, she is in the infancy of her initiatives. So here is my part in supporting her cause.

CALL TO ACTION:
Readers, if you are, or know of an emerging artist who is in need of exposure, tell them about this Farmers’ / Art Market. And if you are looking for a different place to explore on any given Saturday, visit and support this fledgling market. There is food, produce and culture. It’s free to walk and only $10 for artists to set up a booth.

For information email Myly at vintagegrime@gmail.com.

I ask her of her dreams?

“One day I want to have a storefront loft space. Upstairs will by my place to dwell. Downstairs will be for you, with gallery, shopping, coffee/tea bar and cool place to hang out at night.”

For now she is content in her current business, Vintage Grime, an offshoot of her childhood passion, taking one person’s old items and turning them into marketable treasures. Visit her at facebook.com/vintagegrime

She is only just beginning. Let’s hep her grow.

Myly, looking forward to one day visiting you at the loft. Your Rad!

Later Gator!

Myly’s signature coin pouch, no two are the same

From left to right: Shane, Saya and Kevin

Not far down the road is seasonal winter wonderland. An outdoor ice skating rink that somehow shows up, almost overnight, every October: Same place, same date, same theme. I’ve driven past it year after year, always saying to myself, “one day I’ll take my family California skating.” I give it this title because it is the only way I can explain ice skating in a mall parking lot, at night, in easy weather.

Tonight I find myself passing this urban construct of winter. And as I pass, in it’s proven tone, the 365 alarm sounds, “stop there, now!” I’m learning to trust it’s strangely subtle voice, a diving rod of sorts that subconsiencously steers me in my 365 path. After 50 days of getting to know it, I have learned wherever it points I follow, and when I ignore it, 365 is difficult.

So it sounds, “stop there, now!” and I listen, not knowing why and not certain if I will interview anyone. Is this tonight’s starting point or an end point? I don’t know. I feel horribly selfish making my first visit sans family, but I have to trust. Without question, without self-justification, without thought of location or technical execution, I just go.

Entering the complex and to the cashier, I ask, “how much to skate?” I’m directed to a sign, $15 for adults, $12 for children. Good with that, I ready myself to report back home of my findings, thinking it wold be inconsiderate to interrupt these kids at work. I turn away from the counter and set stride to depart. The alarm sounds louder! “You must invite your new acquaintances.”

Glad I listened. Throughout this project I have been led to some of the greatest youth. From kids that scare me to kids that are at the top of their game. What is impressive is that most have shared words beyond their years, leaving me with the distinct impression, the future is in good hands.

Winter wonderland puts me in contact with three more of this select generation, Shane, Saya and Kevin, all great young adults, all with great perspectives, all with hope for what’s to come, and all with well grounded maturity in what they claim.

We spend about an hour talking: A little bit of sharing as a group and some one-on-one Q&A. Here is a compilation of their wisdom:

“Be nice to strangers, and do your part to make the world a better place”
“Learn about the deadliest sins and do the opposite”
“Be courteous to others, its common sense”
“People can be selfish, so learn to share”
“Say thank you”
“Be the first to open doors for others”
“Take care of the environment”
“Be spontaneous”
“Don’t over think, things always work out”
“Take risk, follow dreams, no regrets”
“There is a lesson in all we do, good experience and bad experience, it’s all about a positive perspective”
“Stay open to new things”
“Don’t live with what if’s, there is always a way back”
“There is a positive answer to every situation, don’t allow yourself to get trapped in the negative”

365 has again put me in the right place, at the right time, with the right people. I have rubbed shoulders with the future, a trio of passionate young adults, who, early in life, have managed to find a depth of experience.

What I choose to not publish is the few life issues they share. Events I assure you have gained them their bragging rights. I respect these future leaders, they have earned my regard and I will not exploit their life stories. This is what I will say, “they understand where they are going, who they are and what is important” How many of us can say the same.

Shane, Saya and Kevin, “See you on the ice!”

Sitting in the car, Michaelbrent driving. I’ve asked for the third time, “who is playing on the stereo.” He says, “if you ask me again, I’m going to punch you.” So engrossed in my entry, I’ve asked him the same questing four times in ten minutes. Some people can be too touchy, can’t they. But I love the guy.

Thinking there might be a little hunger snap happening, we decide to stop at for dinner as we are returning from a location shoot in San Diego.

Ah! Applebees, great place for a nice quite wind down meal. I’m proven wrong.

We park, walk to the door, and in route, meet Victor playing Harmonica as he sits on a bench in front of the restaurant.

The guy is cool blue. Turns out he is classically trained in music, holding degrees and is a local contributor to weekly jam sessions held at Applebees. That comment rolls of both Michaelbrent’s and my shoulder and we pay a price later. I’ll tell you about that soon.

But for now I want to tell you about Victor. For some reason I’m running into a lot of past military and/or families of service men and women. I promise I am not pre-selecting my destinations or planning on who I interview. I’m truly going with the flow in working to be as spontaneous and open to situation as I can. Victor appears before us and the voice in my head pushes, “he is the one.”

So trust me this is not becoming a political blog.

Why is Victor here. By first impressing, some may think he is homeless. That is the furthest from the truth. I’m even later offended when entering the restaurant, Victor leading, two girls at the front desk show faces of judgement at his stepping into the establishment. Kills me to witness.

I’m more offended by the loud tone and language coming from the three clean-cut sports dude screaming obscenities at the TV baseball game or the drunken women ready to throw their underwear at the dude singing Guns and Roses hit, Neil Diamond style. That’s the I’ll tell you later part of the story, meal is pretty much ruined.

Why is Victor here, simply to get a cold glass of Coca Cola and to hang out on karaoke night. Makes you rethink perceptions of society. Between Victor and my encounter with Lieutenant Colonel Kevin Boad a few day ago, I’ve been educated in appreciating the men who served in Vietnam.

Better yet, Victor is a killer musician. Some nights he jams with the crowd and walks away with dinner, provided by customers or management in gratitude for his talents.

Sure, he look a little run down, maybe even hard of luck. Let me tell you a little more about him. He is a proud husband and father with two children: A son studying music and a daughter enrolled in nursing school. Even told us of his giving his son his Les Paul for school and helping his daughter pay her tuition.

Victor is no transient, living within walking distance, he tell us of his two bedroom home and honorably shows us his veterans card as he explains how he supports himself via his military pension and disability.

Oh, here we go (and honestly one of my pet peeves), people living off the system. There is no way this applies to Victor. Now 65 he speak of working up until his disabilities became too unmanageable. He tells us of his obstacles. Not in a poor me way, or as a crutch, but with a very matter of fact point-of-view. No handouts wanted, completely the opposite. Even share with us he is recovering from a stroke he has recently had, explains he troubled speaking and slumped walk. Not alcohol, but a very serious medical condition. His teach are decayed, yet his smile a grand. The guys is a tank.

We learn of his exposure to Agent Orange, Bullet Wounds and Shrapnel still in his side. He continence is lucid and his spirit kind, inquisitive and humorous. He expresses only one concern, arising when signing his paperwork, asking and I think more joking, “are you guys Communists.” I assure him we are not.

Victor leaves with us these words.
“Enjoy music, play it, learn of it, it’s very good for you.”

Victor, keep jamming!

Hello, dear blog readers, random curiosity seekers, and people who stumbled onto this site while looking for the newest celebrity trainwreck (nothing here about the Khardashians, sorry).

You may notice a bit of a difference in this blog entry.  There’s a reason for that.  And the reason is simply this: I’m not Richard.  Instead, you’re going to be treated to (or suffer through) a “guest blog.”

My name is Michaelbrent Collings.  And when Richard asked if I would accompany him on his daily “365” and write about it from my point of view, I approached it with a bit of trepidation.  I’m a writer, so it’s not the words that scare me.  I’ve actually written best-sellers and had screenplays produced in Hollyweird.  But most of what I do write is either horror (ghost stories and books about serial killers) or light fantasy (kids who discover they are magic users and become embroiled in a battle to save the world).  And Richard’s blog – or as he would probably prefer to say it, the blog of the people whom he chronicles – is neither of those things.

But I agreed to give it a go.  Challenges are fun.

And almost immediately upon meeting his “365”-er for the night, I started to regret my decision.

Not because she was awful, or difficult, or whiny.  Quite the opposite.  It’s because she was simply delightful.  When asked if she would like to be a part of the project, she lit up.  “Sure!” was her immediate response.  And when she walked away after the experience, she literally jumped in the air and (I think) even uttered a “Yippee!”

Her name was (and, I suppose, still is) Janel.  Richard and I met her after a long day on the set of a photo shoot he was doing.  He and I went to dinner with the client and the ad agency people, and Janel came along as the significant other of one of the folks who was at the dinner.

And it was such a lucky thing that she did.

“Where do you see yourself in ten years?”

Some people are defined by what they take in.  They are collectors.  Of information, of wisdom, or (in bad situations) of other peoples’ morale and energy.  Then there are those who are defined by what they give out.  Janel is one of those people.  She smiled.  A lot.  She wears her hair differently every single day.  She does yoga.  She is fascinated by humanity, but (I think) is still struggling to define her own.  Not in a bad way, but in a way that highlights the fact that she is still deciding what kind of person she will be.

And actually, maybe I am a good person to write this blog.  Because I do write fairy tales.  Tales of magic and fun.  Tales where the good guys win, and the evil-doers are punished.  And Janel, I think, is someone who is striving to discover the fairy tale within herself.

“Fit, healthy, and happy.”  That’s where she sees herself in ten years.  Not “in a fancy house,” not “surrounded by expensive things,” not “in this particular job at that particular company.”  But “Fit, healthy, and happy.”  She is energetic, spritely, and so it should come as no surprise that her personal vision for the future is one that focuses, not on the place, not on the thing, but on the energy, and on the feeling her existence will exude.  “Fit, healthy, and happy.”

“If you had any words, counsel, or advice you would like to share with my readers, what would it be?”

Janel is also something of a contradiction.  Again, not a bad thing.  Quite the opposite.  She has intricate levels that interconnect to create a person of unusual depth and passion.  So while she is a person who looks like she could probably run a 10K every day of the week and step it up to a full marathon on the weekends, she can also be quiet, and attentive.  She likes to talk, but doesn’t mind listening.  She seems as happy to laugh at another’s story as she is to laugh at her own tales of life and its idiosyncrasies.  Again, a rare quality.

So though at times she seems as though she is wandering through life on a journey to who-knows-where, she is also possessed of a certain inner assurance.  “I’ve worked for a three-star general,” she declares.  “He taught me how to be competent.”  I agree with her that competence is a quality rarely found, and much to be admired.  She wears her competence on her sleeve.  If she says she can do it, I have no doubt that it (whatever “it” may be) will be done.

And along with that competence, as though to balance out the happy, energetic, almost childlike quality that captivates those around her, she also has the ability to say something directly… and have it mean something.

“What counsel would you like to share with my readers?” Richard asks.  And in an eyeblink, she sobers, and says without hesitation, “Quit if you need to.”

Not idle words.  How many of us go through the motions, living our “daily grind,” and slowly dying inside all the while because we are too afraid to reach out and find something new – and better?  How many of us find ourselves locked into something – a career, a pastime, a relationship – that isn’t right for us… but just don’t have the personal wherewithal to simply stop?

Not Janel.  She tells Richard (and me, the horror writer turned anthropologist for a night) of her experience in grad school.  Pursuing a career she had dreamed of since she was eight.  And then realizing that something about it was wrong.  Something about it didn’t feel like it should.  What was I that felt off?  Simply this: she hated grad school.

So she quit.

The ramifications were enormous.  Starting, and perhaps ending, with the fact that she is no longer sure what she is going to do with herself.  Not that she doesn’t work – she does, and probably does an excellent job at it.  But “it’s not my dream job.”  And she isn’t quite sure what would be.

Which is, it seems, all right with her.  Because better to be a bit unsure of what the future holds that to suffer the certainty of misery.  She didn’t like where she was, so she changed it.  Obvious, really.

But how many of us could have done the same?

And even in that simple statement that her job isn’t her “dream job,” lays another implicit facet of Janel’s character.  She believes in dreams.  She never says this aloud, but it seems from the twinkle in her eye and the dimples that are so deep you can almost see through her head, that she does believe.  In the possibility of a better tomorrow.  The chance of a more perfect world.

In the hope… of hope itself.

Good night, Janel.  It was a pleasure.  And I hope your dreams come true.

Michaelbrent Collings is the bestselling author of RUN, Billy: Messenger of Powers, and numerous other novels.  He can be followed on Twitter @mbcollings, and his Facebook page is at http://www.facebook.com/pages/Michaelbrent-Collings/283851837365.  He also has a website at michaelbrentcollings.com.

Antoinette, 30 year veteran teacher to our California youth

You’re in the passenger seat with me. We’re cruising through suburbia and into the corner shopping center. Radio is on and we’re chilling to the tunes. Suddenly the music becomes silent. How can this be, we still hear volume, yet nothing is going in to our minds?

What’s up with this? two seconds ago it was a musical feast!

As if on auto pilot, we find ourselves being tugged by intuition towards two figures talking in front of the corner laundromat. The closer we get the smaller our musical background becomes.

We pull into a parking slip, just feet in front of them. We disengage the motor. As the silence grows, two incredibly interesting looking people take hold of our focus. With no pause our sub-conscience tugs us out of the car and drives us toward them. Well rehearsed now, we do the 365 pitch and get quickly rejected.

Yet even with the rejection, the conversation continues. We are smitten with the moment and the depth of character of our new acquaintances will not let go of our interest. At this point, who cares if we do, or do not, take photographs. “These people are amazing!”

“I’ll take it from here.”

To begin, let me introduce you to Antoinette, a very humble lady with 30 years of working in education, and the magnet that first catches my eye.

I sight her as she leans against the front window of the laundry establishment, child grandson at her side. At first it is uncertain to me as to how well she knows her confident, Lieutenant Colonel Kevin Boal.

But as I settle in to becoming part of the conversation, it rapidly becomes apparent that I have unintentionally wandered into a chance exchange between two individuals with dramatically different life experiences. What is captivating is the connection of humanity between them. I am taken in; there is no way I can change the path.

Antoinette, with great compassion, is mostly listening, later telling me of her empathy towards the Lieutenant Colonel, a Vietnam Veteran.

Lieutenant Colonel Kevin Boal, Vietnam Veteran, Man of Raw Wisdom

“You’ve got to visit back tomorrow, when I’ll have much more time to fully introduce you to him.”

Have you ever been with people who, just by only being in their presence, make you feel good about yourself. If so, you already have an idea of what spending time with Antoinette is like.

We speak of faith and patience in our fellow-man. Something she has learned through her 30 years of working in elementary education as a teacher’s assistant. Antoinette exudes a motherly spirit and one can feel her real concern for the people around her. I see this in the way she treats our Veteran friend Kevin, even comforting him at moments that I am overwhelmed by his stories.

I can tell this lady is special, a healer of sorts with great faith. An admitted Christian, she explains that is the source of her patience, inspiration and compassion for the world around her, “I’m a believer in Christ, I’m not perfect, but doing my best to be a good person.” She is the kind of person that sets a life tone worthy of mirroring. I’ll take heed to her example.

I ask her to share her council. Simple reply, “Everything is so fast paced now, you must have patience with yourself and those around you.”

This is a night of patience for me. A workshop of sort in unconditional acceptance and in listening, led by two masters of life, Antoinette and Kevin.

All in all, I spend over two hours communing with my laundromat friends. We talk of many things, with much of the time being monopolized by Kevin. No regrets from either Antoinette or myself. He is fascinating and filled with hard-earned wisdom.

So much so, that it is necessary to save telling you about him for tomorrows entry. Though this is a slight diversion from one stranger every night, it is the only way to give him fair representation and in keeping my blog entry to an acceptable word count.

It only took me 5 minutes to find my place this evening. It has been captivating, uplifting and at times a little scary, some back alley stuff I’ll talk about tomorrow.

All in all, I experience one more tutorial in reaching out.

My findings: “We all have stories, some dark, others not. But in the end, “it’s all good!”

My take away from a spur of the moment visit to a local cleaning establishment. “Ten minutes of photography, two-hours of humanity.”

Curtis, pharmacist and emerging entertainer.

A typical Saturday in Radstoneland: I give you the beats.

• Teach Spinning, announce next weeks Halloween costume ride. What will I wear (you’ll just have to wait for the report)?
• Best Buy for more iPad stuff. I’m telling you, “the thing is a drug addiction.”
• Purchase new care tires. “So much for any more iPad fix money. It’s all gone now!”
• Visit camera store. Look at other things I cannot afford. My method of aversion therapy. “I have to come down from my iPad accessory high.”
• To park with the kids. “Ah, release from life.”
• Bother other families at park to be in 365. Daughter now hooked on 365, she forces me to bug people. “Alright, I submit.”
• Accept rejection from said park families. “I know, felt like the creepy dude stalking parents at the park, but I have to respect my kids starry eyes.”
• Leave park to heal wounds of shame for bugging families.
• See photo opportunity on street corner, redirect path to intercept target.
• Get yelled at by violent preacher dude on targeted street corner. My bad, “thought he’d want to tell all of my readers to repent.”
• Stagger back to car, happy I’m still intact! “don’t worry, kids are safely hanging inside locked car and in my field of view.”
• Set path for home: dinner time and a serious re-think of 365.
• Wife tells me, “go find someone to photograph, I’ve got the kids.”
• Wander aimlessly in new treaded car.
• Drive past coin operated car wash on Saticoy.
• Begin to experience, “holly *#*#, it’s 8pm and I’m clueless as to if I’m shooting 365 tonight.”
• Small voice in head tells me to turn around and go to other coin opp wash near where preacher dude was earlier today? “OK?”
• 8:15sh, arrive at prompted coin opp. “I can at least wash my car.”
• Fight with change machine, damn thing wont take my wrinkled bills. “doesn’t everyone shove wadded money in pockets?”
• Win fight, walk away from opponent, hand filled with quarters.
• Get hosed: $5.oo for 8 minutes of paid water.
• Pull out of slip, “I refuse to pay $2.50 more to rinse a touch of soap off car.”
• Pit stop at vacuum station for decompression of timed wash experience.
• Observe expert car washer in stall beside me. “How come his car looks so much cleaner than mine?”
• Question my car detailing ability?
• Submit to my failure.
• Strike up chat with car expert, “perhaps I’ll get pointers on where I went wrong. Should I have sprayed the degreaser first? Maybe I was too long with the soap brush? Help!?”
• He’s a cool dude. Throw 365 invite, he accepts.

My car washing buddy for the evening is Curtis, his trained profession to date: Pharmacist. A recent Los Angeles transplant from Kentucky, he began his West coast pharmaceutical career 4 yeas ago. As we talk I quickly realize that there is more to Curtis than simply preparing medication. He talks the importance of patient experience, saying with smile on his face, It’s really about making people comfortable, many of my customers don’t feel well when they come to my pharmacy. I do my best to let them know that I care.”

The man has great compassion for his fellow-beings, something that inspires him in his greatest dream, “I want to be an entertainer.”

An emerging comic and singer, Curtis expresses his reasoning for pursuing a path into such a difficult and competitive profession. He has the right perspective. “It’s about giving myself and sharing my talents.”

After 30 years as a director and photographer, this is a comment that I very much appreciate. There are so many talented people who seem to burn out from to great of a self-absorbed point-of-view. Curtis’ interest in “giving and sharing” is about as healthy as it gets. I wish him well!

We talk of creative mindset, linking it with the importance of being true to personal perspective and what it takes to both develop and hold on to artistic point-of-view. Another topic very close to me.

Curtis give us this wisdom, “whatever way life takes you, follow your inside, your persona, how you feel about your presence on Earth, and somehow let it be the guide in interfering with your choices.”

I meet a man who cares about people, and in time, I hope he finds his voice in the world of entertainment. We need guys like him on stage.

In the end, I understand why I am at this particular car wash, at this particular time and on this particular evening.

“And I’ve learned again, 365 just happens.”

“Live life to the fullest, Time to work is time to work, time to play is time to play.” Johnny’s mantra.

Driving home after a dinner with friends and family. I come across a group of bikers. Actually my second group of bikers. It was only 20 minutes ago when I was rejected by about a dozen of them. Let’s just title that group, “we’ll never meet who’s behind curtain one.”

I’m a little set back by this first encounter, not one of the group was willing to partake of 365. It was a rather large gathering. “They looked so like a willing bunch,” I told myself.

For your reference, the scene: Picture a casual outdoor gathering, killer bikes parked along the road, and a group of leather jacketed bikers sharing stories over after ride coffee. At the time it seemed to me, “in a gathering like this, someone will gladly volunteer to be featured.”

What I do find is a gang very hard to break into, with several cliques huddling around tables or reclining on steps, all deeply immersed in their own dialogue.

I do; however, presenting business cards to introduce 365, manage to talk to two guys.  They are definitely not interested in being photographed and I can tell by the tense stare from one of them that my presence is tolerated, but not welcome. Who knows maybe we will get a call and be invited to a future event? Something that I will wholly accept. So keep reading, maybe there will be a re-visit in later blog entries.

Deflated from that rejection, and with about 20 miles of pavement behind the experience, I come across a second gathering of bikers mingling in a parking. Again, as did group one, they are in cliques sharing post ride stories.

What the heck! It takes three missed swings to strike out, I have more swings left and I’m not striking out on day 41.

I line up for pitch two, pull into the parking lot, promising my family this one feels right. To the trunk I go, grabbing my 35 pound back pack of photographic power. I approach the plate. “Hey bear with me, It’s not easy writing a personable and sometimes witty blog entry every night.”

So if I want to write a baseball comparison for soliciting a group of bikers to get involved in 365, humor me.

The lot is dim, the sound of revving bikes fill the air. Spotting an amazingly painted Suzuki 750, I approach, complimenting it’s cool factor as I tell of 365. Without division, all hands point to Johnny, our man of the evening.

Johnny is engaging, warm and articulate. He is completely into the 365 project, liking the outreach factor it presents. “I’m in for anything that brings people together,” he says.

It is obvious he is liked by the group, of which many contribute with team spirited comments as he and I talk.

Johnny is a very smart cat. At 24 he has already capitalized on international commerce, building a very successful import/export business between the United States and Vietnam. What is highly interesting is that he mostly imports product to Asia. Quite the opposite of many in his trade.

By the looks of the custom paint on his bike, hand painted by a tattoo artist, he is doing quite well. paint jobs like that, do not come at a small price.

There is no guile or ego in his attitude. He talks of values that his father instilled in him. Values that have led him to the balanced perspective he lives by.

A few of Johnny wisdom’s:
“Work hard, play later.”
“Money is not everything. Health is golden.”
“Be willing to sacrifice wasted time to stay focused.”
“Live life to the fullest.”

So what with the bike?
I learn of the closeness of the biker community and how it sticks together. “It’s not an unusual thing to get a high-five from an unknown fellow biker,” Johnny explains.

“As a kid I liked speed.” By the looks of his bike, I think he’s found fast, and it seems to be his release. “Biking is a big part of my life, it free’s me and allows my to relax.”

The group is pushing to leave and it’s time to wrap. One more question to ask.

“Where do you see yourself in 10 years?”

With understated humility, and in honor to his father’s advice, “be your own boss,” he answers, “based out of my home, Vietnam. To be the biggest import/export business in the world.”

Johnny, Thanks for the interview!