Category: motorcycle

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The Wheels Keep Turning

The road has a way about it. A way of taking your inner thoughts and creating a one-sided discussion with no one but yourself. A dark side that reveals your hopes and dreams and mixes them with thoughts you are trying to suppress. A life of what could have been, what might be, and what will never happen. Alone with just these thoughts and feelings, they somehow become reality if only for the ride. The highway disappears beneath your rolling wheels into the back of your mind, taking you places that few people know. The sound of the motor is there but you can’t hear it as it pulls all of this to the surface to be seen only by you.

Each ride starts out the same, but as the motion begins and the miles become a blur, the thoughts of where you are in this life becomes apparent. Some answers to questions are clear, some are not so forgiving as they become buried asking only to be answered another day. So you ride. Riding harder and faster than ever before. With a hope of pulling all that tangled confusion in your head back into a straight line. The feelings and emotions owned by no one but you. We twist the throttle as if demanding our head to become clear. But the ride is never long enough. I don’t know if any ride is long enough to create the world I see in my dreams.

On every ride, our reality is right around the corner. It is the Destination, the Stop sign or that final turn down the driveway. Like a bookmark, we mark our place until the next ride. We will pick up where we left off as we try to figure out where this story is taking us. Who knows what lies ahead, but we keep searching for it. The truth. The truth as we see it or as we want it to be.

We may never untangle the mixture of feelings we carry or unload the burden of mistakes we’ve made, so we keep the  wheels turning. In our mind and on the road.

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100 Miles

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One hundred miles sounds far, doesn’t it? If you had to walk it or even ride a bicycle that far you would have a full day ahead of you…or in my case several days ahead of me. But we ride motorcycles and one hundred miles may take a couple of hours if you find the right road. You see, as bikers it’s not about how fast you get there, it’s about the quality of the ride. It can actually be a “longer is better” mentality. Do we do that in our car? If you drive a classic Mustang convertible or a Jeep Wrangler with the top off you might feel this way. But the Chevette isn’t the “long way” approach of getting there.

That’s the difference of enjoying the ride or plain transportation. The motorcycle can pull double duty combining the commute with the long way home and that is often the case for the motorcyclist. For those of us that ride we might even take the long way home while driving our car because we know the mental benefits of doing so. But I might add that if you don’t ride a motorcycle and you find yourself taking the long way home-you are a biker in the making. You just don’t know it yet.

So this one hundred mile theory works just the opposite for bikers. We WANT the ride to take a couple of days if not literally, then figuratively. We NEED the ride to last longer than a mile a minute, so we take the long way. If it was all about getting there in a hurry we could drive-maybe not in the Chevette, but you know what I mean. We want one hundred miles to feel like three hundred.

I can’t change time and distance from the seat of my Road King, but I can change the speed it which I travel. I can change my attitude and the direction I go. So in a sense, I have a little bit of control over how late I will be when I get there! If you ever find yourself tired with your commute, that same old road you travel every day, think about taking the road less traveled. Motorcycle or not, you control how you get there. If you’re in a hurry, you might have to ask yourself “why.” Don’t we spend enough of our day in a blur? Slow down, go the extra few miles, and appreciate the scenery. You might be surprised how good the “long way” really feels!

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So What’s Your Excuse?

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Can you smell it? It’s called anticipation, or maybe it’s exhaust fumes from you running your motorcycle in the garage waiting on that semi-nice day to ride. Either way its safe to say we all want to get the riding season underway. For some of us this will be a typical year of a few planned short trips and hopefully a couple of longer rides that require a little more thought. If you’re lucky like me you can ride to work to get that fix on a daily basis.

That’s why we have this motorcycle in the first place, right? You got into this for the freedom and the life-changing aspect that riding gives us, didn’t you? Or was it just to make the neighbors jealous of you because you have that “wild side” they don’t have? Whatever the reason, that motorcycle is sitting in the garage like a dog that is begging to be walked. You’re tired, sitting on the couch and Scout sits by the door looking at you-waiting for that sign that this time you aren’t getting up to go to the refrigerator. So what’s the excuse today?

It’s cold. It’s hot. It’s windy. I’m tired. Should I continue? We’ve all said it before, but really? Remember that feeling you had on your last ride and how you came back from it ready to take on the world? That short ride with your friends that took you down some beautiful back roads? Or was it that time you went somewhere and the weather turned bad and you had to suck it up and get through it. But afterwards you had something to talk about and it even made you say to those that didn’t go “exactly where do you buy your underwear, because it’s not the big boy department!” And yes, you STILL talk about that day and how amazing it was that you survived.

So this year you are going to challenge yourself. Un-plug your bike from the battery tender, un-plug yourself from your cell phone and go for a ride. The more you ride the more you want to ride. The less your ride, the easier it is to make excuses. Make your friends and neighbors really understand the reason you have that bike in the garage. Turn the TV off and get off the computer, put your gear on and go! You won’t regret it. Good weather or not so great, you will come back wondering why you struggled with the decision whether or not you wanted to. Of course you wanted to!

So the next time you have the urge to get on your bike and that little voice of excuses starts talking, you have a choice to make. You can turn the volume up on the TV, or you can fire up that motivator you have in the garage. It’s your choice.

But I warn you. If you are not going to do it, at least take Scout for a ride.

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This Life Of Mine

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I know it sounds crazy but I just don’t feel my age. It’s a younger me that rolls around in my head and there is a constant argument of how young I think I am, and the reality of how I look and feel on the outside. Let’s face it, I think I’m in my thirties and some would say I act even younger than that. What’s the old saying? “Act your age not your shoe size.” Well I would say I act a little older than ten and a half but not by much.

We all have those days when the mind and body are not talking to each other. It might be the weather, our health or it’s simply that time in our lives when no matter how hard we try we just can’t get ahead. Our mental state can be affected by just as much as our physical state. And those rare days when both are humming along at the same speed life is good!

So with age comes experience in life that we don’t have when we are young. But if you think about it, what is wrong with the youthful enthusiasm and curiosity that some lose as they get older? I can appreciate the experience I’ve acquired over the years but I still want to live my life and take some chances that I did when I was younger. I just don’t want to repeat the stupid mistakes that gave me the “life experience” to know better. We need to get that enthusiasm and curiosity back and take those chances with the experience that adulthood gives us to really find that perfect mix.

We all have our ways of feeling young. Some live vicariously through our kids, while some are active in their own forms of recreation. I ride motorcycles. I’ve been riding a long time and it has always been a way for me to connect to my youthful side. Do I think I could go out and win a few trophies at my age? Sure! The key word here is “think” and I do believe I could. Could I go out and ride hard enough to win? Maybe. Would I be embarrassed to try? No, I would always have my age to blame!

I think the secret to that youthful feeling is “living in the moment.” As kids or young adults, we specialized in living right there in the moment. Not worrying about yesterday or tomorrow, or even an hour ago or an hour from now, and that gives you sense of freedom. Some adults are still good at that. But for me? I go on worrying or at least thinking about adult things. For a short time while I’m riding my motorcycle that will usually go away. Right there in the moment, riding nowhere in particular, and for a brief time my head will clear. I’m sure if you had me hooked up to a machine you would see stuff like my heart rate go down, my bad cholesterol clear up, or my waist size shrink, who knows for sure. But one thing I will say is I feel better and I feel like a kid again.

I’m not suggesting we all go out and re-live our youth, that would spell trouble. What I think we need is a double-shot of whatever comes out of the fountain of youth. When I was young the fountain of youth must have been the end of the garden hose because I sucked on it all summer long. Whatever we do that gives us that feeling of “acting our shoe size” is exactly what we need to have that balance of our youth and adulthood. Don’t feel bad when your body says you “can’t”, it just hasn’t received the memo.  

 

 

 

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The Reason I Ride

sturgis100_4434To look back over the forty years I’ve been riding motorcycles is easy. I like thinking about all the experiences I’ve had and even looking at the photographs I’ve got stored away in an old envelope on the shelf. Notice I said “shelf” not “memory stick” or “hard drive”. That’s back in the day when someone had to take your picture and then a conscious effort was needed to get the film developed all the while hoping at least one of the pictures wouldn’t be blurry. If nothing else the old photos prove that at some point in my life I have been in shape and I have had a full head of hair.

So as I look back I often wonder why the motorcycle impacted my life instead of football or any other type of sports or recreation. Simple explanations for gravity or inertia I can give, but an explanation of why I ride might be difficult. But I ride when those friends of mine don’t. They’ll watch football or basketball and I’ll watch Supercross or Moto GP racing. The funny thing is the majority of my friends don’t ride motorcycles. I know what you’re thinking. A guy like Jeff must be surrounded by the latest and greatest machinery out there. He must ride a million miles a year and his house is filled with trophies of championships and with friends who ride and do nothing but talk about two-wheeled adventures. The reality is I do ride a lot and I rarely hang out with my motorcycle friends. My close friends all watch the games on TV and come Monday I’m at a loss for what to say when everyone is talking about the weekend in sports.

Going through my formative years at school in White City, I just didn’t play much football or basketball. In a community where team sports are the talk of the town, I was riding my motorcycle out to the trails to practice, eventually racing motocross until I broke my leg in 1987. Was I any good? From the side of the track I probably appeared to be somewhat awkward and squidish. From inside my helmet looking out I was awesome! Fast and smooth and wheeling away from the pack! But average is more like it, although I finished my best year ranked third in the state.

I think the real reason I ride runs a little deeper than just individual sports versus team sports. I missed my chance to play team sports and if I could do it over I would have played more in school. This is something I’ve come to realize as I have gotten older. Again, from the sidelines at the game I’m sure I would have appeared awkward and squidish, but I would have been there all the same. I wouldn’t necessarily change things as they turned out, but it would have been a life experience to add to the many I already have. So back to the reason… 

Just like those folks that like football or NASCAR, I like motorcycles. It really doesn’t need to be explained at all. We are individuals that have our likes and dislikes and I like the two-wheeled kind. I think most people associate me with motorcycles by now and that’s no surprise. They sure don’t mistake me for a guy in shape with a full head of hair!

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Chasing Horizons

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The need to get there. You know…over there. Someplace you are not. We bikers are real bad about that as we are constantly searching for the “new” perfect road. Even as we travel the same old boring rides over the years, there is a pit in our stomach that there might quite possibly be a more perfect way of getting there. You know…over there. Better trees, curvier curves, more scenic bridges and more hilly terrain. I think you get the idea. And so the search continues.

Just when we think we’ve found our utopia, we realize it’s just not enough. Like a kid is to sugar, we bikers are to scenery. Our drug of choice is the feel of the wind and the sound of our bikes as we ride down another less congested highway to somewhere we’ve never been. Sounds easy right? Right. But life can be that way. We should always be searching or at least looking around with our head up instead of walking in circles looking at the ground. We should be wanting to discover things and places we have never experienced. Some people do and others…well, do not.

I must admit when I take on a new day I’m just as much in a rut as the next person. But once in a while I do wander out of my little world and take life on. It’s exciting to be somewhere new and to talk to new people, experience new things and make some new memories. But the searching I speak of is different. It is the horizon that we just can’t get to. It’s always just over the next hill. You know…over there. It’s that constant drive and curiosity that keeps us in motion. And besides, what would we do when we get there?

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Days of Demolition

Sunday, while out and about I drove by the house where I grew up. It must have something to do with mirrors and shadows, the house, while growing up was big, but today seems small in comparison. The pasture next to it that separated Green Acres from our house also seemed small. This is where we rode our motorcycles before venturing down the side streets to get out to the Katy trails. Lawless, I tell you! The yard appears to be smaller or was I just complaining about the size of it as we used push mowers to cut the grass? Regardless, as I passed by I realized that for about twelve years of my life, things were pretty simple.

Sure, school took up most of my time, but there were always the summers. We had a barn in the back yard that we hung out in and plenty of stuff to climb around on. Bicycles to get up-town to the Vicker’s station or the pool hall and then there were all the yards I mowed for money. My dad painted houses with Sammy and sometimes I would help. So as kids, we were constantly in motion.

One summer, Lacey Mahon asked me to tear down a two-story garage/shed that he had in his back yard. Lacey Mahon owned The White City Register which was the local newspaper. The paper office was only about three blocks from his house and he was a hard-working man who was dedicated to providing our community with a valuable piece of information and historical journal every Thursday in the form of a newspaper. I already mowed his grass and apparently the look or eagerness on my face told him I would do it. It was a big  job as he expected any good lumber to be saved, cleaned of nails, stacked and covered and the rest of it to be hauled away to the dump. I was about fourteen years old and looking back it was probably a little bigger project than this guy should have taken on. Remember the look of eagerness?

And so the roof starts to come off. Wooden shingles and nails falling to the ground. My brother Danny is helping and my dad provided the tools and the ’67 Chevy truck. We were making it happen! I was actually surprised how quick it was coming along. My brother and I found out that if you stayed on the roof with the truck below, we could toss the scraps into the bed saving all kinds of time. Only later did we find out (from our dad) that all the lumber that missed the bed of the truck… those boards that just fell short, might have left dents in the side off the truck. Might? They did. Oops.

Through the hot summer days we worked. We knocked down boards and pulled thousands of nails, some of which we straightened and saved, and it all took time, but we got it done. Many loads to the dump, lumber sorted and stacked and in between days of demolition I was mowing yards around town. I had been keeping track of my hours and figuring in my brother Danny’s help, for that day to finally collect. As a young man walking down the street with my hours figured on a piece of scratch paper, I was nervous that the total was going to be too much. After all, we tore down a two-story garage! When I asked my dad what he thought about how much it totaled he said, “is that how many hours you worked?” I guess that meant that it wasn’t too much.

I remember the day I walked down to the newspaper office to collect. We had just finished up and I knew Lacey was there. Of course he was there as he was always there. I walked in, stood at the desk where Lacey was sitting and told him I was finished. He pulled out his check book with his ink-stained fingers and asked how much. I explained how much work it ended up being and that it took a little longer than I thought. He said he appreciated the cleaning and stacking the lumber and that the rest was hauled off and to tell him how much. “$167 dollars” I said. He wrote me a check and I walked out a much better man than when I walked in. I cut Lacey’s grass for several years and always thought a lot of him for letting me do this. And I was always proud of myself for taking on a project of that size at that age. But I still feel bad about the dents in the side of the truck. Sorry dad!

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Hard RD.

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Every morning  on my way to wherever I go I pass HARD RD. It’s a southern Geary County road that runs North and South, into Morris County. A quiet country road that looks interesting enough, but the name changes the perception just slightly. From the Seat of my Road King  it’s a beautiful area and would be even more so if it was called “UNICORN RD” or something along those lines. But HARD RD it is. We have all passed this road at one time or another and sometimes we’re even on it. I know from time to time we’ve all experienced our own hard road. A time in your life when you think to yourself  “this road will never end”. But we hit the next intersection in life, gas it, and we find our way on to a better road. I haven’t found EASY ST. yet, but someday!  There really isn’t any guarantee that we won’t be back here making the same tracks we’ve made before, but we have to remember that it’s up to us to turn the corner to get off the hard road when we find ourselves on it.

I’m pretty optimistic about life in general, but it’s things like this that make me think. So many times we take the path of least resistance and that works for a lot of people. It’s easy and convenient and requires so little effort. It gets us to where we are going and in most cases it’s where we want to be. It’s usually when we find ourselves on the hard road, we automatically think it’s a bad thing. We all know that it’s the difficult things in life that make us stronger and maybe we should approach those particular roads with this in mind. Even as we travel down this rough road, there will be those who are also rolling down the same direction looking for the exit. Stop and give them a hand. Just because you find yourself on it, doesn’t mean you can’t stop and help someone else who also finds themselves there. It’s the hard roads and “uphill both ways” that makes the rest of life enjoyable and rewarding.

Asking directions, whether driving or life, may get you to HARD RD, and even without help we can end up here anyway. That’s when we need to think about who is giving us directions and how reliable they are. Listen to your heart, trust God and your instincts and obey all laws. But remember, this road will end and then it’s back on the pavement until the next bumpy road comes along. If you are like me, you’ll enjoy the scenery on any road, watching the world go by. Watch the signs and you’ll be fine! Just try to avoid DEAD END.

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Seat of Your Pants

Over time I’ve come to notice that all of my bikes have improved through the years. Suspension, handling, fuel injection and looks to name a few. Style and appeal are a matter of taste, and if I do say so myself, mine is about average. I have taken it for granted that the next bike will be better than the last in terms of reliability and ride ability, so it’s always been onward and upward when a trade happens. And as the bikes get better, the ride and experience should get better as well. And it does. But the fun we have as we ride really hasn’t changed that much over the years. The wind in your face and the sounds made as you crack open the throttle give you the seat-of-the-pants thrill we all seek.
 
What is it about the motorcycle that the automobile lacks? A true performance car can give you the kick-in-the-ass feeling of power and acceleration, but what about everything else? As cars have evolved, they have gotten quieter and more high-tech. They almost drive themselves. Designers have taken the car and turned it into an office or living room depending whether you are sitting in the front or the back. But a motorcycle gives you the elements. Weather, road conditions and even the sense of danger. Motorcycle manufacturers have also taken some models and pushed them to the limits of technology, performance and comfort without sacrificing the wind in your face feeling. Fast or slow, in a group or by yourself, that motorcycle feeling is always there.
 
 I guess you could argue that whether you are behind the wheel of your latest vehicle or hanging on to the handlebars of your new bike that there isn’t much difference from the previous one. And I would agree. Usually the new one has a little more power, the handling is a little better, and you look cooler on it. But it’s the “fun factor” that I’m struggling with. Old bike or new, the fun is about the same to me. I would almost go as far as saying that back in the day of  low-power, worn out tires and soft suspension, the fun level was a little higher. You had to compensate for what the bike didn’t have in those categories, and in the mean time you could see the smiles from miles away. The seat-of-the-pants meter was pegged out!
 
The roads are all the same and the dirt hasn’t changed. The trails are a little steeper to ride and the ground is a little harder. But when it comes to my pants…the seat that is…the fun is always the same!
 
 
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“License and registration, please”

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So a few days ago I see a fellow biker’s helmet resting on his seat as I park next to him. I climbed off mine and glanced over again at his helmet only to see the sticker on the side that read “Ride it like you stole it!” Now, I don’t know if this individual was just making a proclamation about the enthusiastic way he rides, or if he was advertising how he acquired his motorcycle. Either way it made me think about the way we promote ourselves and the sport we love so dearly.

Now I can be as rambunctious as the next person, and I have been known to ride hard and fast, but the reality is when I make a major two-wheeled purchase, to a certain extent I need to take care of  it. My motorcycles come with a title and sometimes a payment. I keep the proper insurance and registration within easy reach in case I need it. So when it comes to the “stole it” part, I just don’t fit in. Also with the high cost of getting bikes fixed due to the lack of maturity or some other reckless act, breaking it is not an option.  And just my luck, if I “ride it like I stole it”, it would end with me “getting a ticket”.

As I ride off I had to ask myself…what if you “rode it like you financed it”?