Dead Man's Hand

Aviator. Fire pilot. Motorcycle rider. Vagabond. Drifter. Trouble-maker. Jack of all trades and master of none. P X Duke has been riding and writing about the places he’s been and the people he’s seen for quite a while. Some of his writing is factual; some of it isn’t. He likes to leave it up to his readers to decide which–if any–lies are the truth.

After receiving a Smith-Corona portable typewriter as a gift many moons ago, Peter taught himself to type. When he crashed into high school, eventually all thoughts he ever had of writing were given over to partying. In the typical single-industry town in which he was raised, the only game in town was a job at the factory. Following a single summer in that life-sucking trap, he knew it wouldn’t be for him to end up dying within five miles of where he grew up.

Peter left town in a hurry and enrolled in flight school, where he learned to fly helicopters as a commercial pilot. That took him on a journey around the world and into operating his own successful aircraft leasing business. When he sold the business, he retired from active flying and flew a desk in a variety of aviation management jobs until he became fed up and quit it all.

He started to write again in the mid-nineties on one of his many sojourns to southern California on his motorcycle. He ended up disappearing for six years. For most of that time he was in the high desert and the Baja. How did that happen, you might ask?

    “I became fed up with my job, so I did what any sane person would do–I quit. I got rid of most of what I owned, sold my house, climbed aboard my motorcycle and headed south to sunshine, blue sky and adventure. When I finally stopped, I was in Mexico. When I came to, I was sporting a beard. Don’t ask how long I was there. I have no idea.”

    “During one of my forays into the high desert of southern California, I was offered a part-time job at an old-school bike shop. My jack-of-all-trades-master-of-none life experience allowed me to parlay that into full-time employment doing computer networking and security and a lot of other things that no else seemed to know how to do.”

    “That job paid the bills for six years. I had more laughs and adventure than any sane person could want or experience. I picked up and delivered motorcycles throughout the El Lay basin, planned and led bike runs up and down the length of California and the Baja, glad-handed and schmoozed high-rolling customers and advised others when it was time to leave the bike shop.”

Peter has ridden over a lot of North America at one time or another, from Canada to Mexico, from Atlantic to Pacific, and to places in between. By far, his favorite ride is up and down the length of Baja Norte y Sur, where the people are friendly, the sun always shines and it’s warm in the winter.

Of everything that he has experienced in his all-too-brief life, Africa is perhaps the greatest enigma: a beautiful continent, rich in people, nature and resources, yet poor in all of those things too.

There are some missing years in there, but what the hell, a little mystery is good for the soul, wouldn’t you say?