motorcycle – Page 8 – Jeff Maddox

March 25, 2014March 26, 2014

A Front Row Seat

My, what you can see from the seat of your motorcycle. There is the obvious; people on cell phones and what appears to be cars veering out of control with the intent of doing you harm, or an occasional wild animal coming up on the road to get a better look at you, and then – the wonder of this beautiful world around you. Have you ever wondered where that jet in the sky is going? I’ve looked up and counted the jet trails crossing above me only to think of all those people in the plane looking down, also in amazement of this place we call home. For the last few years when I see the path of a jetliner it always takes my thoughts to a particular place.

Just as you settle in on a ride, you slowly open your eyes to the scenery that surrounds you. It begins with a deep breath as you find your rhythm and everything seems to fall into place. This never gets old. Sunrise, sunsets, valleys and hills. The feel of the wind as it pushes you around and you just know that your are really only along for this ride. I’m only a spot on the landscape in a much bigger picture, so with all this going on around me, where do I fit in?

When I’m on my bike I become a participant in a spectator sport. I am moving within the environment that I find so beautiful. As quick as I can appreciate the simplicity of big round bales of hay lining a fence row, I ride into a valley that was created over many lifetimes. A man-made road that leads me past beauty created by the Man Himself. How can I complain about anything when reality says to take it all in. You are here, you’re breathing in and out and life is good – everything else can go in a worry pot.

The motorcycle is my front row seat to the world before me. You may choose to see it from a boat or on the deck by a fire pit and I’m good with that. We’re all different in many ways but also similar in how we process beauty. We see things and translate them in our own language, but the end result is how it makes us feel. Like the feeling I get when I see a jet crossing the sky or the sun coming up, it affects me the same way – it puts me in a place to appreciate what it all represents.

March 6, 2014March 6, 2014

Looking for Phil – A Motorcycle Journey

At times it can seem like a desperate situation, one minute you’re a hero and the next a total zero. It’s hard to make up for those times when expectations are high and then reality beats you down. Some days it’s just not worth all the hassle. On the other hand, determination will take over and you feel like no matter the odds, you can – and will overcome. We ride. Sometimes we don’t ride. Sometimes we need to ride regardless of the weather. This morning it is freezing drizzle. Today, I’m looking for a particular Ground Hog.

I know it’s not his fault. Just like our local weatherman, both are just messengers of truth, or rather speculation, on what we motorcyclists consider the key ingredient to our particular mode of transportation. Good weather is our gasoline and right now for some motorcyclists the gas station is closed. Toying with our emotions is never advised and we put such high hopes in all you represent. How long will you keep us off our motorcycles? Maybe the greater question is CAN you keep us off our motorcycles?

So today I ride. I ride in search of you my friend – to show you that it is not my desperation to ride, but rather my passion to ride! Alas, I do not blame you. It’s your job to be the bearer of news, good or bad. And I will lift you to shoulder height when the news of an early spring comes, but not today. So hide in your stump, Phil. Look away from me and know that for the next few weeks we are not friends. Our relationship will always have its moments, but for now you are dead to me.

We can choose to be fair-weather riders and have our riding habits dictated by fury animals and “weather in motion”. But if the garage walls appear to be closing in, it’s time to get out – and ride. I prefer to ride!

March 2, 2014December 30, 2014

A Perfect Combination – Why We Ride

It’s a contagious kind of passion, not the quiet kind we keep to ourselves. We ride motorcycles, and our enthusiasm shows from the expressions on our faces all the way down to the mark on our left boot. I just watched the film Why We Ride and I am honored as an average motorcyclist to be included in a like-minded and emotional, devoted and fun-loving community. The connection we have is easier to explain to those who already ride, but to those who don’t – you should watch this film. Why We Ride hits the mark and it shines through in the real people featured along the way. Mert Lawwill, you are one of those people who had a direct impact on why I ride. Real people, real stories and true words spoken.

How do you make a film that explains who we are without telling the stories of those who paved the way before us? A beautiful transition from our past to the present looking through a window to how the more things change in motorcycles, it will always be the people and the reasons we ride that remains the same. History, speed, danger and gasoline make for a perfect combination. What better way to express ourselves than with the sounds and smells of a machine that is the extension of our own heart and soul? Just add spark.

We have our own personal reasons for riding and no matter the age of the hand that twists the throttle, the reaction will always be the same. That motion our throttle hand creates tells “our” stories – of who we are and how life changing motorcycles can be. Our lives are so intertwined with the mechanics of the motorcycle that for some it is one and the same. Life changing and life in general all rolled into one.

The language spoken throughout the film is universal and the feelings are mutual. We ride motorcycles by choice but the camaraderie, competition and connection is a direct reflection of what these amazing machines are capable of. Even as a rider, Why We Ride inspires me. It made me proud to be a part of where we’ve been and where we’re going as a sport. It shows the side of motorcycling that is often overlooked by non-riders. Family, in both the immediate and extended sense of the word.

I may not compete at the highest levels of competition or travel around the world as Ted Simon has, and that’s okay. Others ride to share those experiences and that’s all a part of the bigger picture. We are writing the history of motorcycling with every revolution of our wheels and we are making our own memories and participating in the memories of those we ride with. WE are the reason we ride!

A thank you to the makers of Why We Ride and thanks to all who had a part. YOU are the reason I ride.

February 21, 2014December 31, 2014

The Charlton Church and the 69 Motorcycle Club

We all come from different walks of life, and to the naked eye it’s just the surface we see. A doctor, carpenter or factory worker on the surface, but behind the scenes we are so much more when the rubber hits the road. Even though the differences of passions and possibilities between us and of those that surround us can be great, we can often find fellowship in what makes the ground we stand upon common between us. Motorcycles are a great way to bring people together and it’s been a common thread since the invention of this two-wheeled transportation. There are those that are involved, those that want to be involved and there are those that are involved indirectly because of us.

For a small town Kansas boy I’m a world away from the United Kingdom, but for many of you who have a passion for motorcycles, distance is only a minor thing. I recently heard of the 69 Motorcycle Club and started to understand how this big world can often seem a little smaller. No matter where we are, what we ride or how people perceive us as bikers, we still have many layers of who we actually are. This is a universal thing and it transcends gender, age and location. We are united by passion and it becomes a universal language that we all speak and understand. Who we are on our motorcycles is exactly the same person we are when we’re not riding, and the motorcycle is just another vehicle used to spread the fellowship.

Father Colin Johnson, the Parish Priest at St. Peter and St. Paul – The Parish Charlton Church and Tower Hamlets in Dover has close ties with Kent’s 69 Motorcycle Club. The 69 M.C. is actively involved in raising money for charities and putting on events within the area to bring people together. Father Colin and I have never met but I understand him and can relate to his passion and his desire to share his energy with others. To be the Parish Priest of a community can have its own rewards but to have the ability to mix his enthusiasm of motorcycling with the fellowship of the church can only bring excitement to the congregation. Bikers by nature are very giving and the 69 M.C.C. would be no different. The fellowship of the biker community working in unison with local churches and groups can only make each organization stronger. After all, looking at the faces sitting in the church pews are the faces of the community, and each and every one of us has our own interests outside of what we wear on the surface. For Father Colin to don the collar of a Priest and a leather jacket, speaks to me. Fellowship in the truest sense.

Whatever we choose to do in our lives we should do it out of passion and for love. Others will see the excitement and enthusiasm in us but more importantly they can feel it. Thank you Father Colin for spreading the Word and the fellowship and I know we’ll meet someday!

http://www.69motorcycleclub.co.uk/

http://www.charltonchurchdover.org/id16.html

February 19, 2014January 30, 2015

For the Good Times

It sat right there in the dining room in front of the window; a stereo console that had all the modern electronics of the day. AM/FM and a record player. With the lid closed it looked like a credenza, but when I would lift the lid and sneak a peek, it had shiny knobs, dials and all kinds of things that could get me in trouble. The perfect height for a kid like me to lean against and look out at the wonders of our driveway – and a place to check the weather. You know, whether or not to ride my motorcycle.

But it wasn’t the object in the room that brings me back to that place, it was the music mom had playing. KFDI Country out of Wichita played the background music of my childhood. Ray Price, Johnny Cash, George Jones, Merle Haggard and Don Williams just naming a few, came out of those cloth-covered speakers, with songs about country bumpkins and the good times. I can still hear the sound of Sunday morning coming down both lyrically and literally as my mother sat at the table having her coffee. I’m not sure if at my tender young age in 1974 I was fully aware of my surroundings but for some reason this has stayed with me.

Music has a way of telling our stories and explaining emotions that we find difficult to put into words ourselves. From my earliest recollections to now, music has always taken me to a place where the memories are patiently waiting to be remembered. As I was growing up the music was changing just as I was – and searching to find the words of how I felt at particular time in my life. Making up the words when my young mind didn’t understand what the adults were singing made for some funny verses, but it was all I knew. When the eighties came and Chicago, Billy Joel, Barry Manilow and the Bee Gee’s were finding their way into my 8-track player things changed for me. It all started to make sense and I could relate to the emotions and words coming through in every song. I don’t know if the music was impacting me or if it was just my ability to understand how music has always had an impact on all of us, but it really got my attention. It was all coming together.

Music to our ears can mean many things. Church hymns, rock and roll, or even complete silence can be that sound we need to hear at that moment. It affects our mood and speaks the words we are thinking or can give us the strength to say them ourselves. Music can hold secrets for us and usually hits the nail right on the head when we need its inspiration. It will always be about how a song makes us feel. Music helped me get through those tough and awkward times when nothing else could and it helped me understand who I might want to be as a person. What else could you do with good ole boys like me?

I cherish those days listening to the music my mother enjoyed. I’m sure music has the same impact on her as it does everyone else, but for a kid in the 70’s and seeing her standing in the kitchen at the stove or sitting at the table while the radio played makes me smile. I don’t know what she was thinking at the time and maybe I should ask her now. Did she have music to help her through those difficult times, what were the songs that lifted her up and what were her favorite songs?

It’s funny how a particular song will put us in an attitude of remembering or take us back in time. It can pull us through a full range of emotions in about four and a half minutes and do it in a way that makes us want to experience it again. But in this case it was all the songs and artists that put me on the floor in the dining room in front of the stereo; and my mother. I wonder if she realized I was paying attention…

January 26, 2014February 17, 2016

Long Way Home

I travel the same roads almost every day but it’s always in the same direction. As the seasons, colors and temperatures change things can look a little different but it’s the landscape and landmarks that we relate to. Some are only a few miles from home while others take us back home.

It’s the long way home. Some days it’s just required to take a different route – one taking us away from the well-worn path we’ve created between point A and B. Remember, it’s the regularity that keeps the grass down. We don’t always have time for a detour, but that doesn’t mean there isn’t a need. Just a few extra minutes to see some different scenery – you know, stuff you haven’t seen for a few months or years – to clear your head. We don’t do it enough and when we do, we’re always glad we did.

I travel the same roads almost every day but it’s always in the same direction. As the seasons, colors and temperatures change things can look a little different but it’s the landscape and landmarks that we relate to. Some are only a few miles from home while others take us back home. An abandoned house, an old bridge or a valley that has always made you look – and smile, are always there for us whenever we need them. As a motorcyclist, it can be hard to find a day in January where the long way home can happen, but it always seems to. Sometimes you have to just do it even if there is an internal struggle to follow the same old habit of taking the usual way home.

Why is this so important? It gives us a few minutes for ourselves. It can be just what we need to see our small little world that surrounds us and give us a different perspective on the day. It’s no different from taking a minute from our busy day to watch the sunset, or turning around on your way home to take a picture of something that catches your eye. It can be on a road we have traveled before, but for whatever reason we overlooked it every time. Maybe it’s the time of day that gives us a different light on the same old scenery. We win either way.

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I’m lucky to be surrounded by familiarity and memories. For those who know me also know of the area around me. You are familiar with my landscape and landmarks as you know them as well. Take the long way home – not every day, but someday. Pull over and take it all in and let the scenery take you home.

January 17, 2014October 15, 2015

Finding Our Danger

At some point it happens to all of us, I suppose. We hit a certain point in our lives where we feel a need to scramble a bit to find that “something” we missed out on. Excitement and danger used to be our middle names for crying out loud. Our youth is screaming at us to not let go, but we feel its hand slipping from ours as we hit middle-age. For some it might be traveling to far away places making up for all the years of the same old routines, while others might feel the need to alter their looks by bringing back the physique of our youth, either surgically or naturally – depending on your pocketbook or desire to exercise. You pick.

Working in the motorcycle business as I do, I see the chase for a cure to solving the mid-life crisis come in the form of buying a motorcycle. The sense of urgency to grab hold of something that will not only make us feel younger, but also (hopefully) make us look younger to those who might happen to notice. These are the guys and gals my age who have missed out on the danger and the sense of lawlessness that only motorcycles can bring. They see bikers portrayed in a way that says “that’s what I’m missing in my life.” Badass? Yes, please. Lucky for me, I averted my mid-life crisis when I was twelve years old. That’s when I started riding and let’s face it – I’ve been a rebel ever since.

Lucky for me, I averted my mid-life crisis when I was twelve years old. That’s when I started riding and let’s face it – I’ve been a rebel ever since.

There must be something in the smell of leather and exhaust that feeds the cure. It creates a different heart beat in our chest and allows the years to fall off our faces. We know when the engine fires up and the wind hits our face, there isn’t a beauty-aid or an over-the-counter drug that can be any better. The “Fountain of Youth” is a gas pump and we bikers discovered it. But living on the edge and finding that youth has a price and right now it’s about $3.15 a gallon.

We all have our ways of dealing with getting older, and I am a believer you’re only as old as you feel and your physical age has nothing to do with it. I have always felt like I’m in my twenties – even to this day. I will admit my face looks almost wrinkle free (when I’m riding down the highway) and though the gray in my hair has taken over it hasn’t affected my attitude. But I still think the mailman put my dad’s AARP mail in my box by mistake.

So what ever your Fountain of Youth is, drink it up (unless it happens to be premium gas) and ride off into the sunset. Find your youth and appreciate the wisdom you’ve gained along the way – just be careful, you’re not as young as you used to be.

January 15, 2014

Smoke’em if You’ve Got’em

It’s the simple things. When you’re young, it’s all about toys and candy and getting out to ride your bike. Not complicated, not serious – just simple. We didn’t understand nor did we care that we were living a very simple life, and our sole purpose was to grow up. And we did – all too fast. We wanted to be bigger like those other kids and we tried real hard to act older than our shoe size, but it wasn’t to be. Just look in the candy case at Moore’s Market when we were kids and it proves my point. Wax mustaches, candy cigars and cigarettes were popular and besides, how ridiculous did we look? If we couldn’t be older, we would look older. Hey, we were kids – what did we know? That lasted for several years, and when we finally found out we were actually growing up, it was too late. We already did.

We have a way of losing sight of those simple things. We make it harder than it needs to be and we worry more than we really should. It didn’t bother us as kids, so why should it bother us as bigger kids? Each and every one of us would do it the same way if we could, so why don’t we? I need to get lost in my imagination more often and let my motorcycle take me back down the road to my youth. Our lives need to be filled with more sun and dirt while we chase each other through the tall grass. Laughter should always be close by and the wind should decide our direction. There really isn’t any reason to be home before it gets dark and who wants to go in the house anyway?

Life is serious enough without even trying. Our responsibilities outweigh the inner-child in each of us and it takes some of the fun out of wearing those wax mustaches we wore as kids. We grew up too fast and I surely don’t run as fast or as far as I did when my age and shoe size were the same. We tried so hard to act older back then and now I’m trying to feel younger than I do now. My heart is screaming for recess but my body is telling me “let’s think about this first.” After all, I had a two-pack a day candy cigarette habit.

January 15, 2014

The Snot Indicator

For the last couple of weeks I’ve been battling a cold. Headache, coughing and a runny nose, along with the usual achy feeling you get when the crud is winning. That, combined with extremely cold weather, has kept me off my Road King for a few weeks. Now that it appears all that remains is a runny nose and the Kansas temperatures are back to what’s typical in January, I’ve been back to riding to work. This morning as I was getting my leathers on to leave for work, stopping every few minutes to blow my nose, I thought to myself once I get my helmet on I won’t have the chance to blow it again for about 25 minutes. So the helmet goes on as I go out the door.

When its 18 degrees outside before you get on your bike, you know you’ll be in for a cold ride. I’ve been here before and for me it’s more of a mental thing. As long as I’m prepared inside my helmet, I’ll be okay. It only takes a few miles to realize where the short-comings are in your winter riding gear as my fingers start getting cold. The face shield of my helmet is opened slightly to keep it from fogging over so my eyes start watering and of course that runny nose of mine is a bit of a nuisance. As I slow down two miles west of town to make the corner, I raise the face shield and use my gloved thumb to wipe the snot from my nose before it goes any further down my lip. Nobody ever said riding a bike in the winter was glamorous.

Another 5 miles and my nose is needing wiped as I roll down the hill to Skiddy. Again, I raise the face shield of my helmet to use my thumb and another crisis is averted. This allows me to focus on more important things, like I shouldn’t have had that second cup of coffee before leaving the house. It’s still a beautiful morning no matter how cold and it’s seeing the sun shining and the few clouds in the sky that make it all worth the hassle. As I came to a stop at highway 77 for the final leg of my ride, I had a realization; my nose had quit running! It appears that at 18 degrees with a wind chill of who knows what, snot will eventually stop running from your nose. A small victory I know, but I’ll take it. I finally pulled into work and removed my helmet and found a paper towel to blow my nose on. Much like molasses when exposed to this temperature, snot will slow if not stop when placed under harsh conditions such as this. My gear is a pretty good indicator of how cold a temp I will be willing to ride in, but my snot indicator tells me the colder the better.

December 3, 2013

It Can Happen

Never give up. Easy to say, but oh, so hard to do. The path of least resistance can become quite the habit for many, but for a few they will settle for nothing but the best. But what about an average guy like me? I can dream, can’t I? Sometimes it takes goals (lofty goals at that) for them to be reached. Why is that? Goals are the easy part, it’s the doing that takes the effort. And of course, never giving up.

It’s easy to say “maybe someday,” but to actually find yourself achieving a goal you put forth – goes to show you if you want it bad enough, you can make it happen. How bad did I want this? Not as bad as you think. It seemed so far-fetched that it was more of a dream than an actual goal. This isn’t something I’ve been thinking about since I was a child, but only recently did I have the urge to put my thoughts into words. I think from a deeper sense, it was all the years of reading motorcycle publications over and over that put me in this spot. If it’s true “you are what you eat,” then surely you are what you read. And as luck would have it, I’m always hungry.

I could go all philosophical here and say it’s destiny – or that all things happen for a reason; and although I do believe in destiny and the whole ” happen for a reason” thing, I also believe you can make your own opportunities as you plug away through life. Slow and steady might get your there, but it has a lot to do with timing. Just the idea this could happen to a small town guy twenty-five years ago seems improbable without the help of the internet. As for my location, it isn’t in the heart of the motorcycle industry. The world is a much smaller place to me as an adult, but seemingly too big for a teenager with other things on his mind, to make the most of it. I’m not sure Mrs. Lawrenz in freshman typing class or Mr. Sweeney in English were convinced I was capable of putting my thoughts into words in 1977, but they should see me now – spelling my words all good (more better?) and using most of my fingers. They believed in me I’m sure, but I knew me as a freshman and, well… But that is exactly the point I’m trying to make here. You aren’t limited by the invisible boundaries we place around ourselves; we’re only limited to the boundaries of our dreams. The last time I checked, my dreams can be way out there.

I still have bigger goals I want to achieve, but even those seem like dreams at this point. Will I achieve them? To say “no” would undermine my own success, so I will plug away as I always do to make them a reality. It’s still a matter of timing and making your own opportunities, and it always helps if you have a dream to chase – and the support of friends, family and of course teachers!