Born in Ravenna, Ohio and raised a few counties to the west in Tiffin, known for its glass and good Columbian, Sam Walker had a normal childhood and adolescence, occasionally writing poetry to pass the time. On his 18th birthday he moved to New York City to pursue dreams of spotting an affordable apartment in the Village Voice. After a lengthy search he finally found one a short 13 hour drive away in Ohio. There he attended university and met his bride-to-be Therese, which is spelled with an 'h' and does not end with an 'a'. They relocated to New York then slid over to Jersey, as you do. She worked in an ice cream parlour and he became a serial bookstore clerk and occasional accident victim (encore), which had a better hourly rate. They had many adventures. Later, when his wife got a job with fringe benefits not counted in gummi bears, the two relocated to Great Britain thanks to the unique GTHOODBTNCTO [Get The Hell Out Of Dodge Before The Neocons Completely Take Over] scheme then offered by the Home Office.
Once ensconced in fair green England, he discovered cycling for the first time since he was a teenager, when he'd perversely sold his last bike to fund his first car.
He end-to-ended in the winter of 1997 and wrote it up for Cycling Today magazine, no longer extant except in the fond memories of creditors. He was picked up as a columnist, the editor not minding that he'd apparently been dropped on his head several times as a child.
In March of 2006 he achieved 15 seconds of pulpy fame in the Guardian, Britain's newspaper of choice for nude vegan cyclists. This led to a radio gig and his being headhunted by a literary agent. He is currently at work on a novel which he is confident will be finished in the spring of 2015 [first draft].
In early July 2007 he had a haircut.