Humor – Page 12 – Jeff Maddox

July 1, 2014October 27, 2015

A Stone’s Throw

Yesterday I pulled over on the short side-road next to the Skiddy cemetery to help a large turtle cross into the ditch. With my new-found friend safe from harm and turtle pee on my boot, I looked towards the southeast at the small town of White City off in the distance. I’ve seen this image many times as I come home this way every day. I laughed to myself about the illusion the grain elevator and the water tower give of being so far apart from each other, but I know they are only about 3 blocks apart. It’s a small town, so what isn’t 3 blocks away? I took a minute to think about a few things like the upcoming 4th of July celebration and how this week has always been one of my favorite times of the year. For a small town, White City has the ability to pull things together by putting on a parade, ball games and fireworks all infused with that old magic ingredient called home.

I know White City isn’t the only community in which this happens, but it’s the one I live in so I can speak first hand about it. I also sat there for a minute and thought about friends I haven’t seen for a while. Once in a while a name or face pops into your head and you wonder what they’re doing now. From my vantage point at the cemetery the town seems so far away, but the fact is it’s only about 8 miles. Just like old friends, at times they too seem like a distant memory but actually they’re not that far away. We can always pull a memory or two out of nowhere closing the gap between time and distance, and by scanning the horizon I know some of those friends are just a stone’s throw from town. Much like the illusion of the grain elevator and water tower.

Now that social media has played such a large role in getting us all back in touch, it’s easier than ever to know what everyone’s up to. But, I will say there is nothing that beats lunch with a friend and the laughter that follows. We take so many things for granted when we’re young and reckless that we never saw the wave of life coming. Some caught that wave out of town while others hung on tightly to the city’s edge. Neither being wrong or right, it’s just the way things ended up. We still have those friends whether or not our paths ever cross again. Of course it can never be too late.

We take so many things for granted when we’re young and reckless that we never saw the wave of life coming.

Who knew helping a turtle across the road would give me so much to think about? Was this his big break from the small ditch he grew up in to a bigger world where the pace is much faster and the grass is taller? Do turtles have a “fast pace?” Was he returning back to a place where he grew up? Was this turtle a symbol of small town life? Crazy questions for a small town guy like me. I may never know the answers, but it made me feel good to get him off the road.

After a few minutes of taking in the scenery, I fired up my Road King and headed into town. Another confused turtle saved from what might have been, and some memories of friends that will always be…friends.

June 20, 2014November 21, 2014

Plugged In

I have this same, eerie feeling now as when the first microwave oven graced our kitchen counter. I was standing there, in complete awe and fully aware of how my life would never be the same. Pretty cool. Harley-Davidson just announced to the world that an electric motorcycle – apply named Project LiveWire, with that familiar Bar and Shield on its faux tank – could possibly be coming to dealers near you. I will spare you the humorous names I’ve come up with. No, on second thought; Electric Glide, Volt-Rod, FXAC/DC and many more. All kidding aside, let’s take a moment to let this all sink in. When the Motor Company came to be in 1903, there really wasn’t any clarification on what kind of motor it would be – combustible or electric. A company steeped in tradition and often criticized for not breaking out of the original mold from which their bikes are built, has shocked the world with this announcement. Yes, I said shocked.

I wrote about the 2014 release of the Rushmore Project in a previous post The Paint is Dry at Harley-Davidson on how the Motor Company may have painted themselves into a corner with those who buy their motorcycles. Tradition can definitely hold you back when your customers expect business as usual. It’s hard to break free of what works so well, but it can also be liberating when you finally do so. If the Rushmore Project, the Street 500 and 750 and now the Project LiveWire are a sign of things to come, then hang on, it’s going to get exciting!

Whether you think an electric motorcycle makes sense or not, it’s truly about making those innovative changes, flexing gray matter and pushing the limits of design and technology. Here’s what impresses me most with the Motor Company. For a 110+ year old company with a reputation of building their bikes using the same parts over and over, they surprised us with something a bit futuristic with very little resemblance to anything within the walls of the Harley-Davidson Museum. Sure, every company goes through some weird times with ideas and designs, (Harley-Davidson is no exception) but to actually push the limits of what they built the entire company on is surely a sign of new blood and enthusiasm within the Motor Company.

Is it in our near future to see the electric motorcycle capable of touring? Will I be traveling to Sturgis for a week of touring the Blackhills on an electric bike? Probably not in my lifetime, but there was a time when I didn’t think it possible to heat soup in a little electric box in a matter of seconds, either. You must admit, Project LiveWire is cool. We must applaud the Motor Company for stepping up and stepping out of the corner in which we painted them into. That’s right. We held the Motor Company back by our childish wants, needs and desires to hang on to the past. But, Harley-Davidson allowed us to hold them back. Sure, we were comfortable and what the Motor Company was doing worked for so many years. But just as the microwave changed my household forever, I didn’t stop buying soup because of it. I like soup.

I’m excited, not only for the loyalists but the Motor Company as well. We have nothing to lose and everything to gain when limits get pushed. As Harley-Davidson steps out of their comfort zone and goes to the public and asks their opinion, it can only be a good thing. For a company to be that plugged in to their customer base speaks volumes to where Harley-Davidson is headed. So the next time you use any of your modern gadgetry just ask yourself this; would you have it any other way? Welcome to the future.

Please check it out!

Harley-Davidson

Project LiveWire

June 17, 2014October 27, 2014

Lost in Translation

It’s nothing but words. Words of description, feelings and stories. They roll out of our mouths or with pen and paper, and in some crazy, weird way they come together to say what we want to say. Right or wrong, intentional or with regret, they come out and all of a sudden the bell has rung. We can apologized, repeat and explain but just as the “ayes” have it, the words have spoken.

This morning’s ride to work had me thinking about how the written and spoken word has changed. We no longer write long letters on paper placed in an envelope or stand in the kitchen talking on a phone with a 3 foot cord. Communication is instant these days and can often be misunderstood. As fast as our thoughts will allow our thumbs to type, a message is sent and then read to see if we actually sent what we meant to say. I’m not knocking this type of communication, I’m just trying to understand how we got here.

Before the instant message, we sat down to put our thoughts on paper. Each word and sentence thought out carefully and a lot of concentration was given to show the recipient that we had decent hand writing. When we were through with the letter we actually penned our name at the bottom with some sort of closing wishing them well or expressing our feelings. Done. Fold it up, put it in the envelope and lick the seal. Now in a couple of days they will know exactly how I feel. Today, they know exactly how we feel – RIGHT NOW. If you needed to talk to someone immediately, you picked up the phone, dialed their number (after looking it up in the phone book) only to be greeted with a “hello?” How archaic.

It’s amazing how I can’t remember ever throwing away a letter. It’s almost as if it was something to be cherished and kept to read again and again. I think we’ve lost something in translation – but it’s not in the words we say or write. It’s in the amount of thought and effort we put into it. It’s hard to show how good my penmanship is in a text message. Who am I kidding – I have no penmanship. The keyboard and mouse have taken over and I can’t even find a pen. The phone calls are more convenient now and I don’t have to stand in the kitchen to talk, but now they come more frequently and the topics are less in-depth. It used to be when the phone rang we looked at each other to see who would get up to answer it. Now, we look to see who’s phone is ringing. We usually don’t pick up with a hello and hang up with a goodbye, and I’m a little sad about that.

So back to my ride in this morning. When I finally pulled into the parking lot at work and shut off my bike, my phone rang. It was my dad calling to see if I had called him. You see, he doesn’t have caller ID on his phone so when he sees a missed call he calls everyone to find out who it was. Although he has an answering machine at home, he doesn’t have voicemail on his cell phone. We had a short visit, I told him I loved him and he said the same and we hung up. I thought about how I answered the phone and whether or not the traditional hello and goodbye was used. They were not. But I heard “I love you” before I hung up and that’s just as good in my book. That’s one thing not lost in translation.

June 14, 2014

Tastes Like Chicken

Let me explain something here. I’m not crazy. This morning’s ride to work couldn’t have started out any more normal. I’m on time, I’ve prepared myself and I have my wallet; so what does this have to do with my mental state? As I traveled down the 5 mile stretch of road between home and Skiddy, I found myself riding with both hands in the pocket of my hooded sweatshirt. The throttle was set and my hands a little cold – so they found refuge. It crossed my mind that I’m literally sitting on a 800 pound machine careening down the road with no apparent signs of control, but hey, my hands were a little cold so what do you do…

My second observation was the freshly cut grass along the side of the county road. The day before I hadn’t noticed this, but this morning it caught my eye. I love fresh-cut grass. It smells good and it was so even and straight that I couldn’t have done it better myself. Who did it? Do they have as much fun cutting grass as I do? Does my grass need cutting? All really good questions, and I’m betting whoever cut it loves to mow grass.

As I dropped down into the valley just before Skiddy I came upon what appeared to be an exploded chicken. That’s right, feathers everywhere. I am familiar with free range and I must say I’ve never seen a loose chicken in this area, so I determined it was some other form of fowl, but at 60 miles per hour, who knows. Of course by now my hands are back on the bars and my mind is picturing chickens running across the road in their track suits but I still wasn’t convinced if that was actually a chicken. Of course it wasn’t I said in my head, but my mind keeps telling me that’s what I saw. Who knows? I’m guessing not. But maybe.

After coming out of the valley past Skiddy my mind switched gears to how a short morning cloud burst of rain made the pavement wet. I thought about how tires are pretty amazing to keep me upright going around curves in the road even while wet. At just that moment a plastic bag from Walmart came flying up at me out of nowhere. Remaining calm on the outside, I managed to contain any signs of surprise while keeping my wet tires planted firmly on the pavement. How did I know it was a Walmart bag? It got hung up on my mirror and flapped around until I could get it off. Of course my thoughts turned to how a plastic bag could be blowing around out here in the middle of nowhere, with all the barbwire fence, trees and tall grass for it to snag. So for the last three miles I’ve been thinking about chickens dressed in track suits, wet pavement and plastic bags. Is there nothing else going on in my pretty little head?

I promise you there is more to what really goes on in my head than that. Sure, our minds are free to wander as we ride our motorcycles and it’s not always about solving life’s problems. I would rather say that my ride to work this morning covered the great mysteries of life and how the food chain really works, along with how plastic bags have an effect on our planet. Not to mention the laws of physics when riding down the highway with both hands in my hoodie completely in control with a little out-of-control mixed in. As for the chicken? I may never know why he crossed the road.

June 10, 2014June 11, 2014

Spending Time

Years wasted. Time spent and keep the change. It comes down to making the most of what you’re given and picking up a little extra a long the way. Search the seat cushions, ashtrays and the top of the dryer for whatever you’re short, because sometimes all we have is pocket change.

Blame it on Old Father Time for being cheap. He knows before the end of the week I’m going to be hitting him up for an advance to get me through another rough spot. Who knows, maybe this time I’ll be able to pay him back. How do we buy more time? We can’t. It’s all borrowed with no refunds or returns.

As we get older we find every minute has a price tag. To say “precious moments” might even be an understatement when it comes to the older we get. When our age and shoe size matched, time wasn’t a big deal. We had plenty and we didn’t care if we wasted it. Save it? Impossible. We burned through it like there was no tomorrow. Now, we wonder if there really is a tomorrow.

If there is one thing we need to do more of it would be to spend our time where it does the most good. Throwing our loose change in a can for a rainy day is great idea as long as that rainy day comes. What’s that old saying? You can’t take it with you, so spend your wealth with those who mean the most to you. Your time is the most valuable thing you have – not that fist full of coins from under the front seat of your car.

Spend your time doing the things that make you the happiest. Whether it’s watching, listening, participating or just being, in the end you don’t get to keep the change.

June 4, 2014May 17, 2016

In Search of Definition

We can ride mile after mile searching for the meaning of those feelings we have every day. To say a motorcyclist is passionate about riding is one thing, but to explain it is another. To find the true meaning behind our passion for riding motorcycles, one must first ride. Even then, it’s hard to put it into words. We know how this motorized wonder makes us feel therefore we should be able to say it out loud. Not so much. Much like inspiration, it comes from a place that involves clarity to understand. Something may inspire you but to put that inspiration into words can be difficult. Clarity. Definition. Both are distinct and both we search for equally.

If a picture is worth a thousand words, my motorcycle is the photo album of my life. I flip through the pages of my album every time I roll down the highway, looking at this long road I call life from the best seat in the house.

But the search never seems to end. Every time I get on my bike I’m still looking for answers and explanations for the thoughts in my head. If a picture is worth a thousand words, my motorcycle is the photo album of my life. I flip through the pages of my album every time I roll down the highway, looking at this long road I call life from the best seat in the house. And it never gets old. Even though every one of my senses is being affected while riding, I still find that being completely vulnerable to my surroundings is the only place I want to be at any given moment – vulnerable to the elements and my emotions all at the same time. Of course, to enjoy the ride and the scenery around me is still possible, I also look inward to find things I’ve long since put away for another day. We’re all different when it comes to our photo albums, but the search is always the same. We are looking back to get that same warm and fuzzy sensation that only memories can provide and we enjoy how that makes us feel.

Some things are just meant to be felt not said.

We don’t need words or explanations for everything. Some things are just meant to be felt not said. The understanding is present and I don’t need the definition to get it. To find the beauty of the countryside by way of it, doesn’t need to be explained, but rather appreciated. How it makes you feel is good enough for me, and that goes for all those other things I can’t explain. But that won’t stop me from searching.

May 27, 2014May 27, 2014

The Smell of Fear

Sometimes you just don’t know. Sometimes we go through life doing our best, working hard to make a difference (not only in our lives but those around us) and we just don’t know if we are. It’s like a bad driver careening out of control down the road unaware of the carnage going on in his rear-view mirror. Eyes focused on the road ahead, but completely oblivious to the damage done. Later, watching the evening news about a car driven by a reckless driver he says “wow, I drove right through there just before all that happened.”

I’m not saying I’m a bad driver. I’m talking about whether saying hello to someone while walking down the sidewalk, letting someone ahead of you in line or just listening to someone go on and on about the turmoil in their life actually makes a difference to them. Once the brief encounter is over and you both go your separate ways, was a difference made? Good? Bad? All I can do is be who I am and if the goal is to make a difference at that moment then I’ll know I did my best. I don’t know the back-story of everyone I come in contact with, but everyone has a story. Who am I to think I can completely understand their lifetime in just a few moments? Hell, I have a hard enough time understanding my own let alone someone else.

But it’s not about understanding where someone comes from or how their life differs from ours. It’s about the effort put forth to make a difference from this moment on. Listen. Smile. Hold out a hand or open a door. Making someone’s whole day might take just a second of your time, so why wouldn’t we do that? Sounds easy, but are we too wrapped up in our own little world to see the world around us? For whatever reason, perfect strangers will tell me just about anything. I’m not sure if I suffer from “Nice Guy Syndrome” or if it’s because I’m willing to engage in conversation. I’ve tried to understand what possesses someone to veer out of the light conversation we were having into a much deeper subject. At this point we might want to have a proper introduction. For reasons unknown to me, they feel it necessary to say what’s on their mind or what’s going on in their life. It must be my great ability to listen, show the proper facial expressions and nod my head. Just as the old saying goes that bees smell fear, I think people can just smell I’m a good listener.

As we move about our daily routines, it’s only a matter of time that something we say or do (intentional or not) will have an impact on someone around us. For those who know us, what we say or do won’t necessarily be a surprise. For everyone else we may never know. I wish it was as simple as watching the evening news to find out if the damage behind me was caused by yours truly. Although, I do check my mirrors regularly.

May 5, 2014May 10, 2014

Waiting for the Perfect Day

You want to know something? The grass is going to need cutting no matter what. The wind is going to blow and at any given time it will be hot, cold, dark and a chance of rain. So what are you waiting for? It’s the sense of adventure – the taking of risks that gets your blood pumping, yet we make excuses. The whole idea of owning a motorcycle should be to ride it. You can wash it later – after the ride. You convinced yourself when you brought that damn thing home, you would ride it every day. What happen since those words were uttered?

We often have great intentions of riding when we finally convince ourselves to dive in. For those who ride their bikes as they were intended to, feel free to close this window and go for a ride. For those who brought their motorcycle home and parked it, waiting for that perfect day to get it out from behind the riding mower and those unused bicycles – listen up. What are you waiting for? If you need a reason, look in the mirror. Do you see that tired, frustrated and sometimes pissed off person looking back at you? The remedy is sitting out in the garage. Take the trash on your way out and fire that bike up!

We work so hard trying to find a reason not to ride we forgot the whole reason we wanted to ride. What about all those adventures you told your friends you were going on? What about that feeling you had when you were picking it up to take it home? That feeling of excitement mixed with a little fear and a little attitude thrown in. It felt good, didn’t it? Where did all those feelings go – out in the garage parked against the wall with your old dusty coveralls laid over the handlebars? Don’t tell me it has a dead battery…

If you really want to ride, then do it. If you don’t, well that’s okay too. But before you decide to sell it, take it for a quick ride down the road and see how you feel about it then. Don’t do something you’ll regret later and who knows, maybe you’ll decide to give it another shot. Live on the edge and ride. Somewhere deep down inside was a little voice that told you to buy a motorcycle, and you listened. That same voice has been telling you to ride it, so what are you waiting for?

April 24, 2014April 25, 2014

My Folks and Fried Chicken

If you look hard enough, a bright spot will appear in your day. On a cloudy, wet, cool day here at the motorcycle shop, my folks stopped in to say hello. Both in their eighties and slow to get around, they came to town to pick up a few things. Mom doesn’t always get out of the car at every stop as it can be difficult at times, but today was an exception. Dad is great when it comes to helping her around and for me it’s not hard to find a moment to stop and sit down while at work and visit with them even if its only for a few minutes. Even though they live about 8 blocks from me, it’s always good to see them, and it’s nice to know they want to stop and see me while they are in town. The conversations aren’t usually too deep; it’s mostly about the how everyone is doing and the buzz around the community or where the gas prices are the highest. Dad will let me know where and when I should buy gas to save a penny or two and as crazy as it seems – I do it. After all, a penny is a penny.

This particular trip to town, my dad picked up some fried chicken at the local full service grocery store, and my mother was looking forward to getting home and having dinner. She’s very petite but a pretty good eater so dad felt like he couldn’t leave her alone in the car with the fried chicken. Although the chicken was safe in the back seat, he thought it better to bring her in. It’s always great to see them and listen to the banter they have going back and forth. It shows me that after all these years they both still have a great sense of humor. I can only hope to have the ability to laugh at myself at their age.

My folks are always amazed at the motorcycles on the showroom floor. We talk about how much they cost and who in the world would pay that much for something like that. They are always impressed by how beautiful they are and as I have ridden motorcycles for the last 40 years – my mom and dad have never ridden. Pretty amazing. While we were visiting, just five feet away from us sat a 2014 Harley-Davidson trike. Dad looked at mom and without any hesitation said “if I were to get one it would be this, and I wouldn’t let you eat fried chicken on it.” Like any new vehicle ever purchased, I guess there are always rules for drinks and food.

I love my folks. My mother is a dear and as in any conversation, she has a hard time keeping up. But if you listen real close to what she has to say, it will make you smile. I love my dad as well. I am lucky to be graced with his looks and I wish I had half the talent he has with a hammer. Good people and awesome parents. When I see them together I consider myself lucky to be their son.

April 23, 2014May 19, 2014

Running Out of Rain

If you could have heard the song playing in my helmet on my rainy ride to work this morning, it would have sounded like a broken record skipping along repeating the same verse over and over. All too often we bikers get something stuck in that helmet of ours and it takes miles to shake it loose. I know it’s not that unusual to be riding down the road taking in the sites and humming a tune, but do we always get to pick the tune? Is there some deeper reason a lyric or song gets stuck in our head? The song stuck in my head this morning was Gary Allan’s “Every Storm,” and not just because I was riding into the rain. But when you think about it, every storm will run out of rain. Just not soon enough for a biker.

Being the avid motorcyclist, I’m always prepared for days like this, and when the weatherman talks percentages for rain, he really should mention the odds. Like your odds of rain in comparison to not having a rain suit with you. Your odds of ever seeing rain go down considerably after investing in a quality rain suit. Much like the odds of running out of gas near a gas station. This will always happen at the furthest point from civilization as possible.

Just like every song you hear, there are deeper meanings involved. It’s always up to the listener how words will be translated and how it will apply to you specifically, and to me this song is all about how vulnerable we are in this world and as life sets you back, it’s a matter of holding your head up knowing there are better days ahead. We can’t live our life waiting for the weather to get better; instead, we must go out in whatever weather is surrounding us and push through it. Some days it feels like you can’t win as the storm rages around you, but this storm, like the storms before it, will end and the sun will come out again. Very important words for a guy who rides a motorcycle.

As random as the weather can be, we can also be surprised by the winds of change as our lives take turns unexpectedly. We should always know this is temporary and even if there is damage and destruction surrounding us after the storm we will see the sun again. We don’t forget, we just move past. The lyric that stands out to me in this song is how we all have thorns. Below the surface of something as beautiful as the rose, you may experience a little pain. We all experience a few thorns over the course of our lifetime, but it’s the beauty of the rose we remember – not the pain of a thorn or two.

I’m a fan of Gary Allan. From the surface his music is a little dark and for good reason. To know where this darkness comes from is important to understand the emotion which comes through in every word he sings. And with that I was humming along with the words silently being sung in my head. I don’t mind riding in the rain as some of my most memorable rides happened on days just like this. I wonder what song will be playing in my head on the ride home…