Julie Vasquez
Wayne Scott Taylor died January 14, 2026 in Sonoma County, CA at the age of 65. He is survived by his stepmother Carol Frala, his brother Roger Taylor, Jr., and his sisters Debbi Matosky and Julie Vasquez. He was predeceased by his father Roger Taylor, mother Marian McDermott and his much loved dog, Thinner.
Throughout his life Scott loved going fast. Anything he could get his hands on-bicycle, skateboard, go-cart, motorcycle-he would push as fast as it could go. He loved music and came home often with a new album or group to listen to and share, which was cool because he had great musical taste.
Scott was talented in working with his hands, whether it was mechanical, painting, or with wood. His abilities served him well as he liked the independence of working for himself as a house painter or in other jobs in which he could used his gifts.
Scott had a turbulent life. Many times he was his own worst enemy, letting his personal demons get to him and at times he struggled greatly. Regardless, he kept his sense of humor. He enjoyed being with people and always wanted to make them laugh. He was generous and shared what he had when he could. He made wry observations that were usually spot on. Ultimately, he marched to the beat of his own drum.
In lieu of funeral or flowers, we can remember Scott by finding an empty stretch of road, cranking up something loud from the 70s or 80s, then putting the pedal to the metal. Ride on, Brother.
Throughout his life Scott loved going fast. Anything he could get his hands on-bicycle, skateboard, go-cart, motorcycle-he would push as fast as it could go. He loved music and came home often with a new album or group to listen to and share, which was cool because he had great musical taste.
Scott was talented in working with his hands, whether it was mechanical, painting, or with wood. His abilities served him well as he liked the independence of working for himself as a house painter or in other jobs in which he could used his gifts.
Scott had a turbulent life. Many times he was his own worst enemy, letting his personal demons get to him and at times he struggled greatly. Regardless, he kept his sense of humor. He enjoyed being with people and always wanted to make them laugh. He was generous and shared what he had when he could. He made wry observations that were usually spot on. Ultimately, he marched to the beat of his own drum.
In lieu of funeral or flowers, we can remember Scott by finding an empty stretch of road, cranking up something loud from the 70s or 80s, then putting the pedal to the metal. Ride on, Brother.
