Tip of the O’Farrell (for you non trail-riding Santa Clarita Valley newcomers, that’s like an upscale cowboy hat?) and top of this fine, April morn to you, saddlepals. We’re about to enjoy a most riotous spring just around the corner. As far as
I seem to have picked up a bad habit. Well. Another one. It’s happened the past few months. It’s completely age-inappropriate. Somehow, the word, “Dear …” has snuck into my daily
The politicians used to blame Daylight Savings Time on the farmers, but the farmers didn’t particularly care what time the clock said. They were up at sunrise. Alas and alack, we’ve misplaced an hour
So. Granted. I’m terribly prejudiced. I’m forced to drive down the hill from Bouquet Canyon to reach the yawning civilization of Greater Newhall, what newcomers like to call, “Santa Clarita,”
If you’ve ridden more than a little, you’ve had an experience where you just drop your reins, hold your arms out and gallop with your eyes closed. This early spring of 2026, I’m recommending it for you more seasoned
One of my all-time favorite people is the editor of this paper, Tim Whyte. For decades, we’ve played on the same team of Journalism here at The Mighty Signal. The
You might notice that big, huge commercial blue trash bin at the end of the stables. Do drop your excuses about how you need to sleep in and recover from
I blew myself out of the water last Sunday. It was late afternoon that I learned the Oscars were on that night. I hardly go to movies anymore. I’ll watch
This week’s trail ride marks one of this valley’s top claims to, if not fame, then infame. This marks the 98th anniversary of the great St. Francis Dam Disaster — the second-worst thing to happen to Californians in history and
For the first time since the Pleistocene, I was without cellphone for a few days. It was both 19.6 on the Richter Hysterical Yuppie Sissy Scale, and, heaven. I was
Hope you all are having a fine Saturday morning. We have a great little adventure ahead of us, including the great discovery of gold in this here valley, and a band of Protestant lynchers
DEAR PRESIDENT TRUMP — Hi! I don’t think we’ve met. I’m Bob. Bob Ali. Subordinate Holy Lance Private and The People’s Most Blindingly Revered Ayatollah No. 37, Supreme Leader Of
This fine Signal Saturday morn, amen boy howdy, do we have a swell trek ahead. We’ll investigate an amazing tale of being shanghaied and a wild hunt for Hell’s Angels hiding in the chaparral. (For you new Time Ranger saddlepals unfamiliar
Where’s Bugs and Bullwinkle? The ducks, Daffy and Donald? Professor Peabody (the world’s smartest talking dog) and those affable mice — Jerry, Mighty and Mickey? We even had a cartoon
We’ve a most interesting trek ahead through Santa Clarita Valley history, what with glass volcanoes, presidential candidates, Mr. Jane Fonda and a California Highway Patrol feeding frenzy. Left foot goes in the stirrup. Bounce a little. Hop on up. If you’ve done
I was pretty darn happy when we became a city in 1987. But then, a bittersweet realization visited: “In two or three generations, Santa Clarita will end up just like the
Being straight as Interstate 5 past Bakersfield and in a confident, male, heterosexual fashion, I truly wish all you dear Santa Clarita saddlepals a most enjoyable, meaningful and sweet Valentine’s Day today. May all
DEAR ST. VALENTINE — I’m not even sure if you’re the right person to address with this missive. But, for decades, a question has plagued me. Why did you force
Aren’t we positively lucky, to be living in a Garden of Eden where it’s a million below zero back east and we’re lounging resplendent in T-shirt weather? C’mon. Slip that left boot toe into
On any given day, there is a given day. Every blank space on the calendar comes with some sort of “National” or “Official” warning on the label. Let’s take today,