Happy Thanksgiving, Wisconsin Riders
— A Reflection on Gratitude, the Road, and the Year That’s Nearly Behind Us
As the temperatures drop across Wisconsin and the holiday season officially kicks into high gear, I wanted to take a moment — in the middle of all the traveling, cooking, football, and early-sunset days — to simply say Happy Thanksgiving.
I know the end of the year sneaks up on all of us. One minute we’re enjoying long late-summer rides toward Door County or cutting across the Kettle Moraine when the trees are just starting to turn gold, and the next minute we’re waking up to frost on the seat and holiday lights going up on Main Street. If you’re anything like me, this stretch between Thanksgiving and New Year’s always carries that strange mix of nostalgia, gratitude, and anticipation. It’s a season for slowing down just long enough to appreciate the people in our lives — and for me, that means appreciating the riders I’m privileged to help and the communities I get to serve.
Wisconsin Riders Are Built Different — And I’m Grateful for Every One of You
One thing I’ve learned representing riders across the state is that Wisconsin has a very specific riding DNA. There’s a grit here, a practicality, a self-reliance that makes total sense when you consider what it actually means to ride in this state. You’re not just fair-weather riders. You’re people who know the sound of a cold engine, the sting of autumn wind, and the bittersweet feeling of putting the bike away for a stretch of winter.
And yet, you also know the community that emerges around riding — at the dealerships, the small-town diners, the charity rides, and the little taverns that seem to exist for the exact purpose of giving riders a warm place to land.
What always strikes me is how riders can be fiercely independent, but at the same time deeply connected. That’s one of the reasons I love this work so much. When you’re on a motorcycle, especially on those long straight stretches between towns — maybe heading toward Fond du Lac, or rolling past the farmland outside Green Bay, or following the Mississippi near La Crosse — you’re physically alone. It’s you, the machine, and the horizon.
But you’re also part of something bigger, something you can almost feel humming underneath the asphalt. Riders know that paradox better than anyone:
The road gives you solitude, but never leaves you isolated.
It gives you independence, but connects you to everyone who’s ever leaned into a curve or chased a summer sunset.
I think that’s why I feel so lucky to do this work. In a way, helping riders is my way of contributing to that connection — stepping in when something goes wrong, making sure you’re not alone afterward, and helping you navigate a system that often feels overwhelming.
This Time of Year Always Reminds Me Why the Work Matters
As the year winds down, I always find myself reflecting on the cases I’ve handled, the families I’ve met, and the moments — big and small — that stick with me.
Some years it’s a verdict or a settlement I’m especially proud of, because I know it made a real difference in someone’s life. Other years, the memory that stands out is a conversation at a hospital bed, or a grieving family who trusted me to stand beside them when their world had just fallen apart.
This year has had a little bit of everything, but the common thread is this: I am grateful.
I’m grateful I get to help people during some of the hardest moments they’ll ever face.
I’m grateful for the trust injured riders place in me.
And I’m grateful for how many Wisconsin riders remind me — every single week — why this community matters.
The Spirit of Wisconsin Riding: Generous, Grounded, and Human
One thing about the Wisconsin rider community is that it’s not flashy, but it’s deeply generous. It’s not loud about it. It doesn’t need a spotlight. It just shows up.
When a local family loses a loved one in a crash, riders organize memorial rides before anyone else even knows what happened.
When the American Legion Riders or VFW groups put together charity runs for veterans or families in need, people show up without being asked twice.
When a rider goes down, strangers become friends overnight.
And when winter hits, that energy doesn’t disappear — it just moves inside: charity events, toy drives, pancake breakfasts, fundraisers, and community gatherings that hold people together until spring.
There’s something profoundly Wisconsin about that kind of quiet generosity. It’s not performative. It’s not transactional. It’s just people helping people — something I try to carry into the way I practice law.
Why I Feel So Thankful This Thanksgiving
I could make a long list — and honestly, maybe I should — but Thanksgiving is supposed to be simple. It’s supposed to be about slowing down, taking stock, and appreciating what’s right in front of you.
So here’s what I’m especially grateful for this year:
1. The riders who trust me with their stories.
I never take that lightly. Motorcycle cases involve real stakes — health, financial security, mobility, family stability, and in the worst cases, grief. When someone trusts me to guide them through that, especially when they’re hurting, I consider it an honor. I’m so incredibly grateful to be considered Wisconsin’s Motorcycle Law Firm.
2. The families who let me stand with them after a tragedy.
Wrongful death cases are never just legal cases. They’re human stories filled with love, grief, memory, and hopes that were stolen. Helping families through that is some of the most meaningful work I’ll ever do.
3. The independence my work gives me — the same independence riders understand.
Running a motorcycle-focused law practice is a little like riding. You’re carving your own path, steering into the unknown, trusting your skills, and finding meaning in the journey itself.
4. The communities that welcome me — from Milwaukee to Madison to the Northwoods.
Every region of Wisconsin has its own riding culture. Getting to know those communities — really know them — has been one of the best parts of expanding my practice here.
5. The chance to fight for people who deserve someone in their corner.
A lot of riders feel misunderstood by insurance companies, police reports, or people who don’t understand riding. I’m grateful I get to be the person who stands up and says, “No — let’s tell the real story.”
The Road Ahead: Looking Toward the Rest of the Holidays and a New Year
Thanksgiving has always been the unofficial kickoff to the deeper holiday season. From here, we go straight into the stretch of winter that’s filled with lights, gatherings, and (if you’re a rider) a whole lot of dreaming about the first warm day in spring.
This is when riders pull their bikes into the garage and start tinkering, winterizing, cleaning carbs, updating gear, or flipping through maps planning rides for next year. It’s also when families come together — and when many people finally have the time to slow down and reflect.
For me, the end of the year always brings a sense of renewal. It’s a moment to ask:
What did I do well?
How did I help people?
How can I do better next year?
And how can I keep pushing to be the lawyer riders deserve?
Those questions matter to me more than any marketing plan or business goal. This job is about people. And if I’m grateful for anything, it’s that I get to wake up every day and do work that has meaning, work that helps people put their lives back together after something that never should have happened.
To Every Wisconsin Rider: Thank You
If you’re reading this — whether we’ve worked together, met at an event, talked briefly, or you’ve just been following along — thank you.
Thank you for being part of a community that’s strong, generous, and honest.
Thank you for looking out for each other on the road.
Thank you for the authenticity and independence that only riders truly understand.
And thank you for letting me be a small part of your world — whether that’s answering questions, fighting for your case, or helping your family navigate something tragic.
And One Last Thought Before You Sit Down for Thanksgiving Dinner
Riding teaches you a lot about gratitude.
When you’re out there on an open Wisconsin highway — maybe on a foggy November morning or on a perfect late-summer evening — you realize how small you are and how connected you are at the same time. It’s a strange, beautiful mix: the solitude of the ride, paired with the sense that you’re part of everything around you.
That’s what Thanksgiving feels like to me.
Even if the year has been chaotic.
Even if life has been heavy.
Even if winter is settling in and the bike is tucked away.
We’re still connected — to our families, our communities, and to everyone who understands what freedom feels like at 60 miles per hour.
So wherever you are today — carving a turkey, traveling across the state, working, resting, or just enjoying a quiet moment — I hope you feel that connection, too.
Happy Thanksgiving, Wisconsin riders.
I’m grateful for you — today and every day.