Ronan O’Malley, 62, has spent the last eight years of his life keeping his world small enough to control. A vintage neon sign restorer by trade, he lives and works out of a cinder block garage tucked between a bait shop and a laundromat in Newport, Oregon, his only regular visitors the group of retired fishermen who hold court at the dive bar down the street. He’s got a scar slashing across his left eyebrow from a glass tube explosion in ‘07, grease permanently crusted under the edges of his fingernails, and a strict rule against letting anyone get close enough to ask personal questions. His ex-wife left him for a real estate agent who played competitive pickleball, his old work partner Manny died in a scaffolding fall a year later, and he decided somewhere along the line that wanting anything more than cold Pacifico and a properly working glass furnace was asking for trouble.
The hidden truth about why mature women won’t let you ride them is…See more
