By Joe Gresh
I have conflicting emotions writing about Evans Brasfield. He was killed on a motorcycle recently and he was my editor for a brief time at the website Motorcycle.com. The thing that bothers me as a writer is: Am I doing this out of respect or will people think I’m somehow using Evans’ death to fill space in this web site? If you write a lot of stories like we do here on ExhaustNotes.us there is an endless search for topics. I hope I’m not doing that but Evans would totally understand my quandary and I hope approve. Lots of people knew Brasfield much better than I did. I should probably shut up and let them tell his story. Still, I want to write about this man I never met in person and only emailed with or spoke on the phone.
After I was booted from the paper motorcycle magazine I was writing for I tried a few other venues to publish my stuff. The pay was ridiculously low compared to the magazine and I stopped writing altogether as it didn’t seem worth my time. Most writers are a mix of hubris and insecurity; you need to think highly of yourself to suppose someone would want to read what you write. At the same time, deep down inside you need to be told you don’t suck at the job.
After a hiatus I pitched a story to Evans and he liked it. He told me he liked it, which was like crack cocaine to me. I needed someone to tell me I wasn’t washed up. I followed up the first story with several others. The pay wasn’t horrible and Brasfield made big of my efforts, swelling my ego to no end. In the comment section after my oddball stories Brasfield would write how fortunate he was that I submitted stories. When Brasfield said you were good enough you were damn well good enough. The guy was an absolute sweetheart and I felt like valued contributor.
Covid hit revenue for all businesses and overnight the economy collapsed like the house of cards it was. The Internet motorcycle websites were no different than the rest of the world. Brasfield told me in an email that they were dropping freelancers and going with mostly staff-written content. I didn’t like the news but at least he told me where I stood and we parted friends.
Hearing that Evans was killed in a motorcycle accident shocked me more than usual because he was such a vital presence online. I followed his Facebook page and we frequently exchanged comments. He was like a real life friend in that way. Everything I’ve read about Brasfield was positive and his own postings were typically positive. He loved his beautiful family and life must have been damn near perfect for him.
Motorcyclists live in denial. If we ever thought about what we were doing, putting a fragile bag of water atop a speeding, two-wheeled machine with next to nothing for protection, we wouldn’t do it. My feelings of “It could never happen to me” are gone now. If a good man and skilled rider like Brasfield can die in a motorcycle accident, any of us can. Hug your loved ones and enjoy the moment. Feel the warm sun and the cold rain. Look out at nature and marvel in your sentience. There are no promises in life and I wish I had known Evans Brasfield better.