I still remember the way the air felt that afternoon. It was Mother’s Day, and after years of me talking about my bikes, my mom: Leslie: finally agreed to hop on the back of my Harley for a ride. She had never been on one before. She was nervous, but once we hit the open road, I could feel her relax. When we pulled back into the driveway, she had this look of pure, unadulterated joy on her face. "Troy," she said, "I want to go again. Let's do this more often." We never got th

Do you ever look at the world and feel a bit small? I know I do. It’s easy to scroll through the news or walk down a city street and feel like the problems, domestic violence, sex trafficking, the cycles of trauma, are just too big for one person to fix. You want to help, but where do you even start? If you’ve been following our journey at Leslie’s Ride, you know that we believe in the power of the "small" things. A single ride. A shared song. And yes, even a humble raffle ti

I still remember the way the air felt that afternoon. It was Mother’s Day, and after years of me talking about my bikes, my mom: Leslie: finally agreed to hop on the back of my Harley for a ride. She had never been on one before. She was nervous, but once we hit the open road, I could feel her relax. When we pulled back into the driveway, she had this look of pure, unadulterated joy on her face. "Troy," she said, "I want to go again. Let's do this more often." We never got th

I still remember the wind. It was a crisp afternoon, and for the first time, my mom, Leslie, climbed onto the back of my bike. She wasn't a rider, not really, but she wanted to share that part of my world just once. I can still see her smile in the rearview mirror, her hair catching the breeze as we cruised through the neighborhood. When we pulled back into the driveway, she was beaming. "Troy," she told me, "I want to do that again. Next time, let's go further." But there wa

FOR IMMEDIATE RELEASE Media Contact: Troy Goings Event Coordinator Lesliesride@gmail.com [916] 312.0571 A Son’s Promise Becomes a Community Legacy – Leslie’s Ride & Music Festival SACRAMENTO, CA – How many times have we told someone we love, “Soon, I promise,” thinking that time is an infinite resource? For Troy Goings, those four words became the catalyst for a movement that is set to transform the Sacramento community. Today, we are proud to announce the first annual Les

I still think about the one time my mom, Leslie, rode on the back of my bike. She never rode a motorcycle by herself, and that ride meant everything to me. She wanted to go again. We thought we had more time. We didn’t. She passed before we ever got that second ride. That memory stays with me every time I fire up an engine. I’m Troy Goings, Leslie’s oldest son and the Event Planner and Coordinator for Leslie’s Ride, and this event comes from a very real place in my heart. My

Every time I hear the low rumble of a V-twin engine echoing off the hills, my mind wanders back to the early days. I remember the smell of gasoline and the crisp morning air that always seemed to signal something special was about to happen. For me, and for many of you who have been with us since the beginning, Leslie’s Ride isn't just an event on a calendar. It’s a cornerstone of our community: a living, breathing tribute built by a son honoring his mother and carrying forwa

I still remember Leslie as a source of inspiration, not because she was out leading motorcycle runs on her own, but because of the way she showed up for people. She never rode alone, and she only rode once on my bike, but that memory has stayed with me. What defined her even more was her heart. Leslie was the Head Coordinator at W.E.A.V.E., where she worked as a domestic violence and sex-trafficking advocate. She was the kind of person who made people feel safe, seen, and sup

I remember sitting in my garage late one Tuesday night, the smell of oil and old leather thick in the air. I was staring at a photo of Leslie, tucked into the corner of my workbench mirror. She was the cornerstone of so much joy in our lives, a true source of inspiration who could light up a room just by walking through the door. It’s a heavy thing, carrying the memory of someone who meant the world to you. There’s a specific kind of regret that hits when you realize they are

I still remember the way the air felt on the morning we lost Leslie. It was a stillness that didn’t belong in a world she had filled with so much laughter and light. For those who didn't know her, Leslie was the cornerstone of our family, the kind of person who could turn a rainy Tuesday into a celebration just by walking into the room. She was also the Head Coordinator at W.E.A.V.E., where she advocated for survivors of domestic violence and sex trafficking with the same fie

I still remember the way the air felt on the morning of our very first ride. It wasn’t just the crisp, California breeze or the low hum of engines warming up in the parking lot. It was something heavier, something more profound. I stood there, helmet in hand, looking at a sea of chrome and leather, and I realized that for most of us, these bikes are more than just a way to get from point A to point B. They are a lifeline. When I started as the Event Planner for Leslie’s Ride,

I’m sitting here at my desk, the clock ticking past midnight, surrounded by half-empty coffee cups and stacks of permit applications. To most people, Leslie’s Ride is a day of thunderous engines, gleaming chrome, and community spirit. But to me, and the small team behind the scenes, it’s a labor of love that starts months before the first kickstand goes up. Planning a charity motorcycle ride isn’t just about picking a route and hoping people show up. It’s a mountain of logist