Friends, I write today with tragic news. A treasured member of the New Atlas team has passed away, and it falls to me to pay some small tribute to a wonderful colleague and a close friend, Joe Salas.
I first met Joe in 2015 – he was one of the photographers Zero Motorcycles hired for its 2015 press launches. I was heavily into photography at the time myself, and Joe’s compositional eye immediately blew me away. He had an incredible ability to make the road itself a character in the story – I’d find myself looking at his shots and unconsciously starting to pick lines as if I was riding those curves again.
Joe Salas/4theriders.com
That takes a true rider’s eye – and Joe, as I soon discovered, was one hell of a rider. We kept in touch after the launch, and he showed me some of his own stuff… Videos of him jumping an R6 supersport bike damn near ten feet in the air. Photos of him, resplendent in his bright red 4theriders leathers, cheerfully dragging some elbow on the racetrack. This, clearly, was no normal person.
Joe Salas/4theRiders
He told me about his life, driving across America from racetrack to racetrack, wherever the action was at, taking track-day photos and subbing in as a riding instructor from time to time. I could barely believe the tales he told about his hijinks with Kev, Toe and the rotating cast of absolute lunatics in and around the 4theriders crew, where the action seemed even more ludicrous off-track than on.
We made plans to catch up and collaborate when I was next in the USA. And then, to my great surprise, we actually did.
Joe and I filmed the DeepFlight Dragon together in 2015, and he got a cameo in the video when Graham Hawkes offered him a chance to drive the submarine too. We caught up again a few months later to shoot the fearsome Kawasaki H2 – you better believe he spent some quality time on that beast too. Not long after that, I came back to the USA, and Joe and I took an epic road trip following Dezso Molnar up to Snake River Canyon, where we had the privilege of watching Eddie Braun recreate Evel Knievel’s rocketbike jump… This time, successfully.
We had lots more planned, but I hurt myself. And then Joe hurt himself. These things happen to people drawn to life’s sharper edges, but Joe copped it a lot worse than I did. Two days into a three-day party, he flipped a wheelie on his dirtbike wearing nothing but a pink tutu and a set of motocross boots. His knee went sideways, and was decimated to the degree that he became a medical curiosity. He could never straighten it again.
Joe Salas/4theRiders
Motorcycle riding was over. Racetrack photography was over. A six-foot-three superman that could ride anything, build anything and fix anything was reduced to a noodle-legged weakling who could barely stand up. Pain became a constant companion. Joe was angry, frustrated, depressed. It was hard to let go – not only of the future he saw for himself and his young family, but of such a big chunk of his core identity.
We lived half a world apart, but we talked every day – and because we were so detached from each other’s circles, we could tell each other things we’d never talk to anyone else about. No filters, complete trust – a trust I now gleefully betray for your amusement:
Joe Salas/4theRiders
I climbed my way back up out of my injuries and had to rebuild my sense of self in the process, so I felt what he was going through on a deep level. Robbed of his mobility and sense of usefulness, he withdrew from a lot of the world, but stayed fiercely connected to a few of us.
His physical strength might’ve been destroyed, but his force of will was epic to behold; he took a job working at a gas station to support his wife and two young daughters, gritting his teeth through blinding tears of pain and rage when his boss chewed him out for leaning on something to rest during his shift.
He’d call me from the car afterwards as he tried to put himself back together into something he could show his family.
Loz Blain/New Atlas
By this stage though, I was in a position to offer him a job. He wasn’t a writer by trade or training, but I knew him to be a hell of a storyteller with an unbelievable treasure trove of life experience to draw from, and I knew New Atlas readers would recognise in Joe a kindred spirit; a taker apart and a putter back togetherer. A guy who genuinely loved to understand how and why things worked.
All he had to do as far as I was concerned was write like he talked. And he did. As a result, he was a ton of fun to read; his personality and honesty and passion and silliness and sheer joy of life come crackling off the page. To wit:
“If you look straight down, you’ll get the tummy tickles. At least I do, and I love it.”
“If you have one and you’ve been able to drive it perfectly straight, please let me know and teach me your Yoda-mower ways, for I can do it not.”
“Definitely a 5 on the AR:SE scale (Apple Rating: Standard of Excellence). That’s my made-up packaging scale, where a Bazooka Joe is a 2, Rolex is a 10, and of course, Apple products are an 11.”
“Will I take it camping with me? 100%. A bear can’t catch you if it can’t see anymore.”
Joe Salas/4theRiders
If you’re so inclined, flip through his author page and enjoy some of the words he left us.
Beyond the writing and behind the scenes, though, Joe poured every ounce of his fire and drive into this website and this company. If you haven’t seen a ton of his articles lately, that’s because he stepped up to take on a whole bunch of technical challenges I’d been struggling with, and smashed them outta the park.
A few months ago, we promoted him to Tech Lead – but badges and titles never had much meaning for Joe or I. There was stuff that needed doing, so we got the sleeves up and did it.
Joe Salas/4theRiders
He knew what it was like to run his own business, forever looking for ways to make things better, and he only had one gear: overdrive. When you’re struggling to move a mountain, it’s awesome to have somebody on your team that loves to move.
Joe made a difference in so many ways – for me, for us and for his family. Within a couple of years he’d made incredible progress on the epic project of building Joe 2.0. From struggling to keep the rain out of his RV, to getting his family into a small house, to moving them into a big stone fortress of a place that could withstand the fury of a south Texas hurricane season – and bringing his mum over to live with he, Brianna and now three young girls… I’m vaguely aware they’ve got actual names, but they’ll always be Sqweebs, Meatsack and LB to me.
Joe Salas/4theRiders
We were each building a new self for a new era. A bit more grown up. A bit more responsible. A bit less exciting on the outside, but our shoulders were getting broader and we were putting family first. Joe and the girls were on a new trajectory. They were gonna be OK.
And then on the weekend, I got the call from Brianna. Joe had fallen off an e-scooter while they were out riding together. He’d hit his head. He wasn’t wearing a helmet. He was gone. Instantly, forever, gone, his last creative work a gruesome stain on the pavement.
Joe bloody Salas, who could wrestle a superbike around Thunderhill in his sleep, with one arm tied behind his back, dead, and it was a scooter that got him. The absolute cheek of it.
Brianna Denny/4theRiders
He loved those scoots. To a guy denied the chance of ever riding a motorcycle again, and who struggled to walk any distance without pain, they represented freedom and autonomy. He also reviewed one of those self-balancing electric monowheels for us too, and he loved that thing even more.
He’d send me videos nearly every night as he rolled through the backstreets and down by the beach, playing a hilarious selection of songs on the monowheel’s built-in stereo.
God how I miss that beautiful idiot. I keep thumping things and yelling “A TEN BUCK HELMET JOE, AND I COULD BE GIVING YOU SHIT ABOUT THIS,” but at the same time, it’s Joe. Full leathers on the racetrack, full Aerostitch on the road, but yeah, he wasn’t gearing up to pootle around on an e-scoot. No condoms between Joe and the world.
Joe Salas/4theRiders
“There’s a million things, activities, hobbies, professions and more that are dangerous,” Joe wrote in a comment on his monowheel review a few weeks ago, in reply to a pair of reader comments. “BASE jumping, motorcycle riding, skiing, bobsledding … even football. It’s the risk we take for the reward. Frankly, having been personally debilitatingly injured for the rest of my life from riding motorcycles (not to mention having personally witnessed several gruesome deaths and life changing injuries), it’s worth the risk to me. 🙂 Hopefully the EUC rider in question went out with one last awesome bang. That’s all us “extreme” folk could ask for.”
Well, there was a bang alright: skull on concrete. I dunno that’s the kinda bang you had in mind Joe, you stupid dumb idiot, but I do take some comfort in knowing that you were out with your sweetheart and feeling the wind on your face just before it happened.
Joe Salas/4theRiders
We’re all the poorer for his passing, none more than the lovely Brianna, their three kids and his OG three kids from a previous marriage. Life’s complicated, but I know he loved and enjoyed the hell out of all of them.
What this goddamned sexy fool didn’t do was live long enough to provide for them in the longer run. So while we’re looking at what we can do for Joe’s family as a company, there’s a GoFundMe running if you feel moved to contribute.
Thanks for everything, Grumpy Cat. Except the last bit and the giant hole you leave in the world. You were deeply loved.
