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Leticia Cline

@leticiacline

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Writer, Motorcycle Rider, Preserver of History, Cancer Survivor, Politician & Proud Kentuckian. Owner: @thedivecavecity @acecoffeecafe

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Today my father would have been 75.
I wonder what seventy-five would have looked like on him.
If the faded blue jean shirt with the small hole in the pocket and pearled buttons would still be hanging in his closet, or if by now it would have finally fallen apart.
We buried him in that shirt.
He was on a long stretch of highway when his heart gave out, trying to make his last run so he could get home in time to see me and Caleb, who were on our way to Kentucky for the summer.
His heart gave out. Mine broke as he took his last breath.
He never got to be seventy-five.
And I never got to know the seventy-five-year-old version of my dad.
Eighteen years later, I’m still trying to remember the exact way he existed.
The way he tucked his bottom lip beneath his top one and pushed his mustache out when he was thinking. The crooked smile and squint in his eyes as he looked through the windshield of his truck. The way he danced to every single bluegrass song.
Tiny things.
Things no obituary would ever think to mention.
Things I’m terrified time will take from me.
So I wear jean shirts. I ride like crazy. I work until my hands bleed. I call people at 2 a.m. just to tell them I love them.
I’ve spent eighteen years doing everything I can to keep some part of him moving through this world.
Because time frightens me.
June becomes July. July becomes fall. Years become decades. And eventually the worst day of your life becomes something that happened a long time ago.
But some part of me will forever keep time by the calendar of 2008.
And today, I find myself doing the math for a life you didn’t get to finish.
Today my father would have been seventy-five.
I wish I knew what it looked like on him.
But I know the faded jean shirt. I know the pearled buttons. I know the crooked smile. I know the bluegrass. I know his love.
So today I won’t count how many years you’ve been gone.
Today, I’ll count the years you were here.
And I’ll celebrate the man whose heart stopped on a highway eighteen years ago,
but somehow has been beating inside mine ever since.
Happy 75th birthday, Dad. taken in Mammoth Cave National Park by @leticiacline

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a month ago

I do things at my own pace these days. When @harleydavidson and @dickies announced their partnership, I was excited to have all things I love about workwear, history, and utilitarian fashion in one product but I’ve just been to busy to post about it until now.

When I was little I asked my mom, “when I die, is what I’m wearing that day the outfit I will wear forever in heaven?” She responded with an “I guess so”, and from then on out I knew I had to look good but also be able to get some shit done if needed. Thats why this fit is perfect for me. I’m a builder, maker, creator, rider, bar owner, coffee-slinger, politician, word dealer and hell raiser and I need clothes that can keep up. Thanks for making that happen HD and Dickies. Now I got to work on the “getting into heaven” part! 🤘🏼

Thanks for the photos @4thebirds , it ain’t easy to get me in front of a camera these days. taken in Columbia Motor Alley by @leticiacline

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2 years ago

This birthday meant more to me than most people knew.

A year ago, my mouth was wired shut. I couldn’t move my lips or most of my face, and blowing out birthday candles wasn’t even possible. This year, I got to make a wish and blow them out myself.

I’m so grateful for the people who knew how important today was and made sure I didn’t spend it without celebrating. I got to be with my son and granddaughter, and in one of life’s beautiful full-circle moments, my ex-husband, his girlfriend and his mom threw me a little birthday party.

After the year I’ve had, I didn’t need a big celebration. I just needed to be reminded that I was worth celebrating.

And today, I was. 🤍 taken in Windemere, FL by @leticiacline

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13 days ago

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21 days ago

MY HOMETOWN IS YOUR HOMETOWN.

For years, a lot of you have followed me because of motorcycles. You’ve watched me travel all over this country and around the world. I’ve been incredibly fortunate in my life to see a lot, do a lot, and meet people in places most people will never get to experience.

But no matter how far I went, I kept talking about small-town America.

Because I believe in it.

Nine years ago, I moved back home to Cave City, Kentucky, and decided that instead of just telling people how special places like this are, I wanted to help make mine a place people could be proud of. I invested here. I opened businesses here. I restored old buildings here. I served here. I promoted this town every chance I got.

And now I’m fighting for it.

Seeing this story reach The Tennessean, Lexington Herald-Leader and USA Today is surreal, but this fight was never about getting national attention. It’s about what happens when something enormous is proposed beside the farms, homes, history and natural resources that make a place what it is.

And Cave City isn’t just my small town.

It’s your hometown.
It’s your grandparents’ farm.
It’s the downtown you remember before everything moved to the interstate.
It’s the old building somebody cared enough to save.
It’s the family business that still knows your name.
It’s the place people leave when they’re young and sometimes spend half their lives trying to find their way back to.

These places are not disposable.

Progress matters. Economic development matters. But so does protecting the things that, once lost, cannot simply be rebuilt somewhere else.

Maybe that’s what I want people outside Kentucky to understand most:

You don’t have to live in Cave City to care what happens here.

Because if we stop believing small towns are worth protecting, investing in and fighting for, we don’t just lose dots on a map.

We lose pieces of America.

And I intend to fight like hell for mine. taken in Ace Coffee Co. by @leticiacline

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21 days ago

Resilience, openness and reinvention.

Listen to my concerns with @leticiacline on the latest episode of @RIDEBYND now playing on YouTube, Spotify and Apple Podcasts. 🎧

#RIDEBYND #motorcycle #podcast by @leticiacline

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a month ago

@leticiacline has invested so much heart and soul into bringing new life back to her hometown of Cave City, Kentucky.

Listen to the full conversation in the latest episode of @RIDEBYND now playing on YouTube, Spotify and Apple Podcasts. 🎧

#RIDEBYND #motorcycle #podcast by @leticiacline

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a month ago

Long live small town America.

Listen to my conversation with @leticiacline now playing on @RIDEBYND YouTube, Spotify and Apple Podcasts. 🎧

#RIDEBYND #motorcycle #podcast by @leticiacline

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a month ago

@leticiacline is a true role model.

Listen to the episode on @RIDEBYND YouTube, Spotify and Apple Podcasts. 🎧

#RIDEBYND #motorcycle #podcast by @leticiacline

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a month ago

The night before we were originally scheduled to record this conversation, @leticiacline was involved in a horrific car accident. An experience that gave her an entirely new perspective on how quickly life can change.

In this episode, we talk about the accident and what it taught her about living fully, along with her journey through motorcycles, racing, journalism, entrepreneurship, and her work rebuilding and investing in her hometown of Cave City, Kentucky.

Episode now playing on @RIDEBYND YouTube, Spotify and Apple Podcasts. 🎧

#RIDEBYND #motorcycle #podcast by @leticiacline

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a month ago

Dementia took my grandma Stella a little at a time.

Music gave her back.

Not metaphorically. Actually.

You could watch it happen.

A song would start and somehow it could reach a part of her that the disease hadn’t figured out how to. Her face changed. The words came back. Stella Mae was my grandma again.

This is us singing Mule Skinner Blues. A song I’ve sung for as long as I can remember. I’m not a good singer. That was never the point.

No pill a doctor prescribed could do what an old song could do for her.

And maybe that’s why Dolly Parton’s death today feels connected to this video for me.

Women like @dollyparton . Women like Stella. Strong women who came from places where music wasn’t just another way to tell your story. It was also your inheritance.

They worked. They built things. They spoke their minds. They could be soft without being weak and strong without asking permission. They knew where they came from without believing they had to stay there.

We learn the songs from women like that.

Then one day, we realize the songs weren’t the only thing they taught us.

We’re the ones left singing them.

And if we’re lucky, we carry a little of the women who taught us how.

#dollyparton #muleskinner taken in Kentucky by @leticiacline

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2 months ago

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3 months ago