growing up – Jeff Maddox

August 14, 2026

Pack Your Suitcase, We’re Headed to Sturgis

Well, for a few weeks prior to this year’s 86th annual rally I wasn’t sure I was going to make it. I always have the clause written in that the plug can be pulled right up to the last minute and the trip could be canceled. This year I felt like things were just working against me and due to poor planning (zero planning) the heat, this ridiculously small three-man tent I’ve only used once before, and a few weird dreams telling me to pull the plug. On top of that, I needed a new back tire to make the trip and due to once again, poor planning (no planning) I had to get it installed at work a couple of days before. Oh, and did I mention, on a morning ride to work just a few days before all this my Road King went into limp mode at a stop sign and just like the the term “limp” I made it to work without any throttle. Ugh. After Wayne put it on the lift, it was determined that we don’t know exactly the issue. So what do you do? You pack your suitcases and go. Screw it, let’s ride.

The ride there was pretty uneventful. Along the way I spoke with riders headed in both directions and I realized for some it was their first trip and for others it was a similar situation – last minute with minds changed to go is not unusual, and the length of how long to stay to be determined. Even I wasn’t sure how long I would be gone but deep down I knew it would be determined by weather, my mood or even the tolerance of a three-man tent. Little did I know…

750 miles later, I was confused. Not because of the heat or dehydration, but why it was 750 miles. I did go a different way but when Jeff leaves the station traveling at 70 mph, what time does he arrive at the rally? 11 and a half hours later I rolled into the campground. I needed a shower and to set up camp. Boy that tent looks really small. I throw all my gear in it and head into town to get something to eat. Once I got to Main Street I parked and headed to the Loud American for the usual beer and beef tip basket. It’s great walking around checking things out, and running into people you know. I’ve known Buffalo Mike for years coming to the rally and to see him within an hour of getting here is crazy. But is it really crazy? What’s crazy is this ritual of him putting his helmet with horns on my head. I guess we all have our thing and this happens to be his. He’s a great guy but if its hot and you’re sweaty, lets just shake hands. Hopefully, this helmet/horn/hair thing will end up in the Sturgis Museum as a tribute to the man who loves this rally.

After walking around a bit I decided to head back to Lamphere Campground and call it a day. As I parked the bike next to this 3-man dome tent I actually thought back to a couple of trips I made where I had the wrong rain suit packed. Apparently, I had mistakenly packed my wife’s rain suit for a trip to Boston, then forgot to take it out and replace with mine for the second trip with the Ride 50 at 50 boys. Anyone who has read any of my stuff knows the rain suit struggle was real. This tent is going to be a tight fit. I wonder who thought that three men would actually get into this thing. As I literally crawled into this torture device I knew it would be even harder to get out of in the morning.

Tuesday morning. Rough night sleeping even with ear plugs in, but necessary with Glenco Campground close by. I’m happy to have survived the night with a couple of hours of sleep, but I still need to get out of this tent with some dignity. I’m an early riser and it’s still dark but there is no way I’m even getting my socks on inside this dome from hell. Everything I packed with me is also in here so there’s that. I unzip the door and make my way outside and climb into an upright position, gather myself and head to the campground HQ for coffee. Last year while sitting at a table by myself, a guy and his girlfriend came over and asked me about my BMW F700 GS that was parked in front of us. We talked for about an hour about life and the rally, and all the things motorcycle related. He was a former member of a 1% club and had the tattoo of the club on his neck. I’ll admit, he is a great looking guy and a wonderful conversationalist, and I enjoyed talking to him and his girlfriend. The same thing happened again this year. Sitting at the same table, they walk up and sit down with me and we picked up where we left off. This to me is what this rally really is. We said what we always say – see you next year as hands were shaken.

I rode into town and parked on Main Street. Not much going on as it’s 8 am so I walk around a bit. It’s already hot and I’m figuring out what is on the agenda today. I walked over to the Indian Motorcycle display and met Pat Cornell who has set several world records on his Indian. I have followed him on social media during his record-braking ride and it was a pleasure talking to him. 146,000 miles in 146 days? I rode 750 yesterday to get to the rally and my ass was kicked. I didn’t mention that to him.

Back over onto Main Street, I see a guy changing his oil on a Kawasaki Vulcan 900. On Main Street. At 9 am. I have seen some weird stuff, but c’mon man. I’m not sure what the other guy is doing, but this is a first for me. (editor’s note; it was more serious than changing oil, But c’mon man)

Did I mention how hot it is? I walked over to a house on Lazelle Street where for the last 17 years a family has put up a stand and sold bottle water and soda. I have stopped here for years and watched their two girls grow up. I spoke with Kathy, their mother, as she was working the stand by herself until one of the girls comes to help. By the way, both girls are now flight attendants and they paid for college working during the rally. Again, this is what the rally is to me. Did I take a picture? Sorry, I didn’t. I walked over to he J&P Cycle corner and sat down on a bench in the shade. The rally is starting to get busier and I’m a people watcher so a bench is a great place to be. It never fails. Someone always sits down right next to me. I mean right next to me. This older guy and his wife were walking in the store and he said with a grump tone “I’m sitting here” and he did. She went in while he and I talked about the usual. They’re from Missouri and I heard about how she wants him to get a new helmet and he doesn’t want too. I heard about how she is ten years younger at 65 than he is. I heard how she brings the small dogs with them and he likes that. You know, life story stuff. She came back out and said let’s get you a new helmet – he said NO! and she walked back in. I said communication is the secret to a lasting relationship and he agreed.

Mid-day I decide to go to Rapid City to Black Hills Harley-Davidson. Big place, lot’s of vendors and some serious business of service, bike sales and parts and accessories. On the way over, east-bound traffic started to back up and of course mostly bikers and the like. It’s hot and not the type of situation that sells motorcycles if you know what I mean. This takes the fun right out of it. Thinking the worst is up ahead, after 30 minutes it ends up being a semi truck having mechanical issues. It could have been something worse.

I leave Black Hills Harley and head over to Texas Roadhouse just down the road. I take a seat at the bar and start the usual banter with those close by. I noticed they have a Texas Roadhouse Rally shirt and I tell the guy next to me that I’m leaving with one. He laughed, I laughed and it was game on. I asked the waiter and he was very sure that it wasn’t going to happen. I asked the shift manager and she laughed like I was kidding and said they’re only for employees. I said I would fill out an employment application if that would help. They weren’t hiring. But out of the back came the store manager with a shirt for me and I was shocked (not really). Maybe they’ll call me in to work a shift or two.

Heading back after scoring the shirt I hit hard rain on I-90. I had the idea all I needed was my rain jacket not pants on and clearly I don’t know anything. I pulled off at an exit followed by an old man and we sat at the stop sign while it rained. Knowing it wouldn’t last, it wasn’t worth putting my rain pants on over wet shoes and jeans, I stood there like a man and just let it rain on me. What about the old man? Yeah, I’ve had better conversations. He just wasn’t a happy guy. I even told him about my new t-shirt and he didn’t care. Seeing a small break in the rain, I took off for the Full Throttle Saloon.

Pictures won’t do it justice, so why bother? It’s big and loud and holds lots of people. The main reason I go is for the Michael Lichter bike show. It’s quiet in here and the custom bikes are great. And once again pictures won’t do them justice. I also spoke with a guy from Australia and we became fast friends. Lot’s in common except for his cool accent and full head of hair. I liked talking to him because he brings a perspective to the rally we in America often lose. He loves it here and the rally for him doesn’t disappoint. He shook my hand and appreciated the conversation. Likewise, my friend.

The Full Throttle Saloon is quite the place. I always go in the afternoon before the concert goers start to show up. It’s crazy enough but I don’t need more crazy. As I headed out the door to get on the Road King, I spot this individual just standing in the parking lot. I thought to myself, here’s a person who doesn’t fit in but also one that does fit into the Sturgis Rally. You can see it all here if you just look up from your phone. The people, the stories, the sights and sounds. It’s all here. For a couple of weeks, people come from all over the world to be who they want to be. Whether it’s authentic or just for show who knows or cares. But somehow I took his picture without him knowing. Welcome to the rally!

Time to head back to camp to figure out if I’m going to stay another day or head back Wednesday. Looking at the weather, there is rain in the forecast so I’m leaning on packing my suitcases and heading back. While thinking this through, I pulled up to my miniature size home only to see that one of the two poles that holds my whole life together has snapped. Yep, I might as well be sleeping in a bread sack. This was the sign I needed to pack up and leave. Oddly, I slept like a champ with a tent folding up around me. I woke up, slithered out of the tent, packed up and headed out just as the sun was coming up.

The first 180 miles we great. The temperature was cool but warming, and the Road King had been humming along great this whole trip. I stopped in Alliance Nebraska for gas and you could feel the heat rising. The rest of the ride will be miserable, and it was. But I rode like the wind, and for once I didn’t listen to music on the ride home. I thought a lot about stuff I haven’t thought of for a while. Things that needed to be sorted out or rehashed in this beautiful mind of mine. You know the one – right under this beautiful head of hair on my head.

What is next year going to be like? Have I had enough of this rally? I don’t know, but I have a few months to think about it. As for the other stuff, there will need to be more time sorting those thoughts out. After another 750 miles on Wednesday, I realized I rode there and back in 24 hours total on Monday and Wednesday and I spent a total of 36 hours at the rally. Worth it? It was, but it wasn’t easy. As for the tent? I left it in the trash. The Road King? Never missed a beat (I wasn’t worried at all).

June 20, 2013September 16, 2014

A Letter to Miss Kylie

My, how you’ve grown. It seems like just yesterday you were talking to us in sign language before you could put sentences together. Now look at you, smart, beautiful and all girl! And so this year you begin school and with that your life will slowly change and evolve into whatever and wherever you are destined to be.

You sure have a way about you. All “matter-of-fact” and funny, but you are also a very beautiful, independent young lady with an opinion and feelings that surface without warning. I look at you and I hear your mother saying the same things or acting in the same way – sensitive, compassionate and carefree throughout your day. I also look at you and see your father. Stubborn and strong without a doubt, but that’s a good thing. You have the best of both your mom and dad, but you will also bring a little of yourself to the surface that defines who you are and who you will be. A head full of hair and big beautiful eyes with a hand that fits perfectly in mine.

The one thing you don’t know about me is I can see the future. Very much like you are today, you will get through your worst days while every tomorrow gives you the chance to forget about what “has” happened and focus on what “will” happen. Nothing is so bad that you can’t get through it. Be yourself no matter what and do everything you can to make a difference in your life or someone else’s life. Some things you will have to find out for yourself and that is a part of growing up and you will never be alone even though some days it will feel that way. As you get older you’ll find that faith, family and friends are what really matter, and that a bad day at school, or the fight with a friend is temporary. And you will make friends. Lots of friends. You will find friendship in the most unlikely people, but more importantly, you will make a difference in someone’s life without even knowing it. You are that special. Like I always told your mother when she was your age, whenever there is a new student in school, always walk up and introduce yourself. If there is one thing they need at that moment, is someone to walk up and make them feel welcome. You might even make a life-long friend in the process. That also holds true no matter where you are in this life.

As you grow older, the answers to questions you have always had will be answered. Sometimes it’s not the answers you thought they would be, but realize that this is a part of life and we have all discovered it in our own way and our own time. Don’t rush through it; take your time to see the beauty of this world and witness all that God created. You will grow up fast enough and you will miss a few things along the way. But you will find as you get older, you will come to appreciate the wonders of this world and all the people who cross your path. It is a wonderful world and you are just beginning your walk through it. When life gets hard to deal with, talk to your mother. She has an understanding of what things can be like when the world doesn’t turn your way. She’s had her moments, and still does, but she is funny and beautiful and only stronger because of it. Above all, keep a sense of humor.

I love spending time with you. You are very perceptive and it amazes me how quick you are with a smile and a laugh, and how much energy you have. When you are here visiting, it’s great to go for a walk to the park so I can bore you with stories of me growing up in this small town. I hope someday we can spend more time together, and we will, I know it. As you get older our conversations will change from “why” and “how come” to deeper talks about how you are doing at school and work, instead of me telling you about growing up in a small town. But I have a feeling in a few years you will again ask me how it was when I was growing up. Funny how that is.

There will come a time in your life when your daughter or son will become a living example of your childhood, and you will look back as a mother and realize how much your mom and dad love and care about you, even though sometimes it won’t seem like it. You can always come to me and tell me how you feel but I will always side with your mom and dad. I will do my best to listen, explain, hug and love you, because that is my job. I am here to give you perspective on things and life in general-all the while loving you with all my heart. You will understand when that day comes and you become a parent and grandparent.

Just like your mom and dad, there is nothing better as a parent than watching your children grow. That’s where you and Casen come in – watching both of you grow is nothing short of a gift for an old guy like me. You have a way of making everything else seem a little less important and you give me the gift of allowing me to put my life into perspective. And when there is a smile on your face it puts a smile on mine. That is the difference you have made in my life, without even knowing it. See? I told you I could predict the future!

Miss Kylie, you are an amazing young lady with your life just beginning. You will do extraordinary things along the way, but first things first. Know that I love you and I always will and I am always here for you no matter how far away it seems. You are a joy in my life that nothing can replace.

April 2, 2013

A Short Ride

I’m not sure of the exact moment it happened, but it did. Maybe it happened over time as if the water was contaminated and I was drinking from the garden hose. But somewhere, sometime, that young kid from White City Kansas grew up. I look back at all the time wasted on the small stuff when I should have been looking around right there “in the moment” and taking it in. There is nothing wrong with just wasting the day watching the clouds overhead or throwing rocks in the creek, and come to think of it, we should probably do more of that as adults. What I really mean is there is no substitute for “awareness.”

But as a young boy life is happening all around you and all you can think about is magnifying glasses and BB guns. It was the simple things that kept me occupied. Time flies and the next thing you know, you look around at your life and realize it’s the simple things that make you happy. Family and friends are more important than ever and there are days that go by so fast you can’t keep up.

So what’s this all have to do with motorcycles? Glad you asked. We get so worked up about taking a ride or going somewhere that we forget that it can be a simple, short ride into the country to just get you back on track. It doesn’t have to be a “planned ride” or group ride to make you feel better. Sometimes we have this notion that a ride has to epic to count-it doesn’t. So ride today. Take a 10 mile ride to hear the motor humming and the sun on your face. Don’t forget to stop at that old bridge and throw a few rocks in the creek-it might even bring a smile to your face.

December 12, 2012October 14, 2015

Snapshot

The weirdest thing happened to me this morning. I was thinking about the start of the day and I started thinking of small bits of time throughout my life. Just things I remember about growing up. Like a birthday party in the yard or sitting on the back steps of the house with my BB gun. Or coming out of the walk-out basement door. You know the kind where you have to reach up and open it while you were walking up the stairs. And the old metal shed on the other side of the driveway. It wasn’t used much and seemed real big at the time, but really it wasn’t. The feeling I had at night walking from the barn back to the house and having the urge to run. So many things that came to me like old Polaroid pictures that had to be shaken before you could see them. All are clear as a bell unlike the same old pictures from back then. Welcome to digital.

It’s funny how a mulberry tree in the back yard brings back some old memories or the fact that we raised bird dogs on the side of the barn that was located next to the same tree. English Setters and there were a lot of them. But what fun it was to be tackled to the ground like I had a pheasant in my pants. I’m a pretty likable guy, and it is apparent that is also true in the dog world. Or is it I smell remarkably like a bird?

But what fun it was to be tackled to the ground like I had a pheasant in my pants. I’m a pretty likable guy, and it is apparent that is also true in the dog world. Or is it I smell remarkably like a bird?

Even some of the “snapshots” I could see in my mind were of real pictures that were taken. The first day of school with me and my brother Danny standing next to our bicycles in the front yard. Sun in our faces, and our best plaid shirts on. Thinking about this makes me realize that my mother was standing there taking it as we were squinting and looked less than happy. I actually remember the picture but not my mother taking it. Weird. It had to have been around 1974 and even though we weren’t happy about it, I’m sure mom was ecstatic! After all it was probably a long summer of the screen door getting a work out, sewing patches in jeans and hearing “I’m hungry!”

I know we all have experienced something specific from the back of our minds that takes us to that very moment. It could be anything and anyone we’ve come across that sparks this feeling. I’m not sure what mine was today, but there is something nice about it. It is usually all good and it never fails to make me laugh. I hope today is a day that I can look back on and smile. Hopefully the “picture” in my mind will still be clear as a bell!

December 7, 2012March 23, 2013

Dad

Dad,

Somethings are hard to say out loud. Like, “I broke the lawn mower” or “I put a dent in the truck”. As hard as it was to fess up to something, you showed me it was OK to. And I’m not sure if it was something I had to say as a boy because I think you already knew most of what was going on when it came to us kids. I know this now, as I’m a father myself. But some of the harder things to say back then have become so much easier to say now that I have grown to really appreciate who you are as a man in my life.

I want you to know that I couldn’t have had a better childhood. You gave me so many things a young boy needs to grow into the man I want to be, without making it difficult. It was easy to be your youngest son and there were so many times that I was amazed at what you could do. Maybe you knew I was watching, maybe you didn’t but I loved seeing what you were building or fixing. Hands on, focused and making it look easy. That’s just how you did it.

I like to think I’m a lot like you. If I don’t seem that way it’s not for a lack of trying. You have a good sense of humor but I will probably give most of the credit to mom. But you and mom together…cracks me up! Where I really wish I could be like you is the talent you have with your hands. It all comes natural to you and I could only hope to be half as good as you are when it comes to woodworking. Sure the old saying of “measure twice, cut once” comes to mind. But you just knew how something was going to turn out before you picked up a hammer or saw. For me it’s more like “cut once, go back to Home Depot”.

But back to the things that are hard to say out loud…never mind about the truck or lawn mower. Thanks for being my dad. You did a great job and I love you. You taught me so much without saying a lot and you led by example. I thank you for making me a good father for my two sons. I use you as MY example when it comes to my boys. I know it was hard for you to retire from what you loved doing and I fully understand the difficulty in putting the hammer down and taking it easy. You’ve earned it and more importantly you deserve it. Mom appreciates it too.

But the one thing I have always wanted to say to you but haven’t…

Dad, I’ve always needed you.

October 5, 2012June 16, 2015

White City, Ks. 66872

Driving down the old brick main street of White City, it dawned on me how much everything has changed. As a kid growing up here there was so much going on in a town where not much goes on. The pace is slow and the town is small, but when you’re a kid in the 60’s and ’70’s all you had to do was ride your bike down the sidewalks past Anderson Lumber and Hardware where my mother worked part-time. You could walk in and buy a Daisy BB gun right off the wall behind the counter. I wish I would have paid a little more attention to my mother while she was working. Funny and graceful I’m sure, but I would like to go back in time and see her in action. She is still very funny, but age and health has taken the grace from her step.

On the same side of the street was the White City Register. The local and surrounding newspaper, where Lacey Mahon did it the old school way. I can’t imagine what it took to do a weekly paper but he and his son John did a great job. My sister Jan worked there part-time and I’m sure at a time in her life that carries a lot of memories, she will smile when reminded of this. Next door to the newspaper office was the KP&L office and the Phelps Agency. Clarence Phelps sold insurance and it wasn’t a building I needed to walk into much as a young boy but I did on occasion. But mostly I remember the air conditioner that was above the door that dripped down outside on the sidewalk. Being a kid on a bicycle you tend to notice that kind of thing.

On the corner was Herb Funk’s Vicker’s Station. Herb had the air lines out across the driveway and we couldn’t resist every once in a while to ride across and make the bell ring. An old Pepsi chest vending machine and two old chairs inside for the regulars to sit on, the place was small enough that you had to step outside to change your mind.

On the next block was the laundry mat where many a day was wasted sitting outside on the steps. Not much to report here mostly because there never was much going on. It was a laundry mat for crying out loud! Next door was a church and Kohler T.V. and Appliance. John was a very public guy and was the Mayor for many years. I can remember riding by and looking in the windows at all the inventory. If memory serves me correctly, my folks bought our first color T.V. there. The RCA that changed the way we watched Gilligan’s Island and Big Valley. Amazing.

A little further down was a phone booth where a call could be made for ten cents. Or you could dial home and hang up when you needed a ride, without putting a dime in. You could hear the person who answered but they couldn’t hear you, so you would often hear from the other end of the line when calling from there or from the payphone at the high school “is this Jeff?” “If you need a ride home, hang up”. What a world we lived in back then…

The Jones’ had a clothing shop and there was a barber shop next door to it. Erichson had the pool hall and Perry Moore had one of the two grocery stores. I spent a lot of time in both the pool hall and the grocery store. Pool tables and pinball machines along with some locals playing dominos was a way to spend a few hours on a summer day between mowing yards. And Moore’s Market was a place to pick up a few things for my mother and have Perry “put it on the ticket”. Great to be a kid in a small town.

On the other side of the street was the Standard Gas Station and Spohn’s Repair Shop. Ash’s Repair shop was just a door or two down from Spohn’s and Buck’s Service station. Again not someplace a kid needed to go but it always seemed there was a lot going on there. The Post Office and Ken and Barb’s Cafe was next door to them. Ken and Barb’s was a neat place to go and how I wish we still had a Cafe or Diner like that. Ken and Barb did a great job. Vernon Rose had the other grocery store and it too was a cool place to walk into as a kid. Vernon’s Market was in the biggest building in White City and to this day is still a pretty neat old building. Like all of the business owners in town, Vernon was a good guy.

The White City Bank where Boone Scott took care of all my mowing money is on the corner across from Vernon’s Market. Can you remember a time when a bank didn’t have an ATM or drive-up window? I do. There was a Masonic Lodge, a bar called “Walt’s” and a farm implement dealer that was owned by Russell Brown. Did you blink? All of these and a few more business’s were located within the two blocks of main street. Since those days there have been many more people involved in the local business’s like Christlieb’s, Parker’s, Guimond’s, Fielder’s, Wood’s and Debbie Blythe. Bill Hickman and both Keith and Joann Kahnt, Rusty Rice and Ingmire’s to name a few. Lee’s Plumbing and Jamie Schmidt with Town and Country Beauty Shop and Alan Scott with The Katy Grill. I know I haven’t named them all and believe me there are more. Bill Calvin was a local welder, Bill Hare worked on small engines behind Vernon’s Grocery, the Mor-Kan Elevator, Barber and Son Construction, Junior Hultgren moving houses, Robert’s also owned a gas station, Keith Barber had the pool hall, Wayne Hultgren still has a repair shop and Frankie Nelson runs the library. Leo Hultgren sold Ohlde seed and Dale Scott with his NC+.

Life in the fast lane I know, but you had to be there to understand the impact all of these business’s and great people had on the community. They managed to provide and thrive in a small town and keep it all wrapped up in a town of about five hundred. You didn’t need to leave town for anything and I would give anything to have that back. But the amazing part of this is we still have the “small town” thing going on. That’s why in my mind, I can still drive down Main Street and see the drip from the air conditioner at Phelps Agency.

October 1, 2012October 12, 2015

The Dip in the Road

Ah, the small town life. Not too exciting but every once in a while, there will be something that happens and we all take note. Back when the Council Grove Drive-in was open it was not uncommon to go to the movies with six or more of your friends. It was cheaper that way as you could pay by the car load instead of by the head. Now I don’t know about you but it only made sense to do it that way. It was like the box store philosophy of the more you buy the more you save! But sometimes you just wanted to go with your date and it was worth a little more for that. In what day and age would it be acceptable to have bodies in the trunk of your car except to go to the drive-in? Today, you would go to jail…

In what day and age would it be acceptable to have bodies in the trunk of your car except to go to the drive-in? Today, you would go to jail…

For those of you that grew up in similar communities, you also had those places you hung out at. In White City, we had the “Y”, which was just a mile North of town where there was a fork in the road at the rail road crossing. We would hang out here when you just needed to get away from all those “city lights”. All ten of them. There was the church parking lot, right on Main Street, where you could sit and watch everyone cruising the four blocks of Main to the point of nauseum. We also had the “dip road” South of town about a mile which as you can imagine was a road with a dip in it. It was a dirt road, and a great place to go out and drink beer with you friends and not have to worry about much. The mixing strip, the Parkerville bridge, Effland’s hill, Blythe’s hill and the cemetery were some of the places you could just name and everyone knew where you were talking about. Burton’s grove, the “crooked bridge” and Maloney’s pond were a few more that should be mentioned for the record, and all were just a few minutes from the city limits.

Things were different back then as we didn’t have cell phones or cable TV. But some had CB radio’s and of course a few calls to “Red Dog” which would quickly be answered, and the evening would be off to a great start. We miss you Earl! It was a simple time with 8-tracks and vinyl seats, windows down and waving at the car coming down the road from the opposite direction. Making u-turns at the locker plant and then again at the old depot. Then a run out to the mixing strip, turn around and back to town. Repeat. That was a Saturday night in White City. Stop at the pool hall for something to drink and to show someone who didn’t know any better, how air was blowing up from the bar stool stands. Yep! Lift the stool off its stand, have them place their hand over the hole to feel the air, then slap the back of their hand down into the grease and leave a circle of grease in their palm. Good Times. Even a local guy like me has had the old grease trick done a time or two. You never knew, maybe the second time there WOULD be air coming out of it. But we didn’t care, it was just a good time to be hanging out with friends in a small town.

I wouldn’t change a day of it. It is who I am and probably always will be. Kid’s don’t cruise much anymore and the pool hall and locker plant are closed. Those of us that remember, still refer to the landmarks by their old names. Mainly because Effland’s and the Blythe’s still live out there and the Parkerville bridge is still, well…how you get to Parkerville. So next time you pass through any old town that looks like it has seen it’s better days just remember, somethings you can’t see.

September 21, 2012December 11, 2012

The Price We Paid in the ’70s

As a teenager in the ’70s I was completely distracted by girls and motorcycles. If I only knew then what I know now, I would be in better shape with both motorcycles and women in general. You see, some of the motorcycles I owned back then have become new again. Highly desirable and worth more money than originally priced. Examples include, Honda 305 Scrambler, 1975 Yamaha DT175, Harley-Davidson X90, 1976 Husky 175, a Yamaha TY250 Trials and the list goes on and on. Sometimes, even in the moment, we are aware we should hold on to something with everything we have knowing we may never get them back. I know now I was never thinking they would be worth more than what I had invested, but living in the moment has its price. And I paid that price in full.

I was a child of that era and it goes beyond just motorcycles and girls. Cars and trucks came and went just as easy. 1966 Plymouth Fury, 1970 Dodge Charger, 1972 Dodge Charger, 1956 Ford truck, 1961 Ford truck Uni-body, 1949 Chevy truck, 1967 Chevy short-wide bed truck…see the trend? What was I thinking? But you have to remember, to me, cars and bikes were just a moment in time. Girls on the other hand were different. Like hair styles and bell bottoms. High School and dating. Transportation and recreation. Buy and sell or trade. Some were great deals and others were, well… not so great.

Even the Levi’s I was wearing back then are worth money! Say what? Yes, and in high demand. I’m not sure the pea green or sky blue leisure suites my mom made for me with her McCall’s Patterns would be worth much now, but who knows? Stranger things are happening. Some people save things from their past with hopes of it being worth something, but when it comes time to actually sell said things, they can’t part with them. They have a name for that. Hoarding.

As much as I appreciate the beauty of the Honda 305 Scrambler or the ’70 Dodge Charger, I can truly say that I am so much happier having owned and enjoyed them without the worry of damaging them or decreasing their value in some way. We rode hard and drove hard back then because we were living life. 8-track music blaring through cheap speakers or our Levi’s bell bottom pant leg chewed up from the chain of our motorcycles. It didn’t matter because we had a date that night!

September 6, 2012December 11, 2012

It’s Seasonal

As September hits I’m reminded of many things. Mostly, riding in the fall and how the summer days felt when it was unbearably hot. Looking back now those hot days seem like they were tolerable. School for everyone is in session, and growing up in a small town it’s classified as a big event. One particular hot day in August, on the first day of school, I wore a shirt that I was sure would be my favorite. A typical August day, in a school without air conditioning could suffocate a horse. But even your soon to be favorite shirt (that happens to be flannel) can become a sweat shirt in this heat. Really Mom? Sending your kid to school in a flannel shirt? I’m sure it was my decision and I fought her every step of the way until she caved in. Chalk it up to learning the hard way. To this day, every time I put on a flannel shirt I think about this. In the seventies there was no such thing as a “heat day” where kids got out of school because it was too hot. Instead, every day was “suck it up” day. So I did.

It’s a wonder how fast the seasons can change when we are lost in our day-to-day lives. Go to work, come home, ride a little and repeat. All the while trying to do the things required of me around the house. Before you know it the weather is changing and the days are getting shorter. I keep telling myself that it’s only a few short months until Spring and we’ll be fine. But hold on, I still have some riding to do and believe me the chores aren’t done. In any case I will ride this winter as I do every year, but as far as everything else…

Every season has its advantages and disadvantages and some seasons we like more than others. But when it comes to hot or cold or dry versus wet it’s all good. Just remember, it’s all temporary and it’s just a few short months until it all changes again. Apparently as a Freshman in high school on the first day of class, I lacked the depth and knowledge of both fashion and common sense. I made it through the day none the worse for wear and with a valuable lesson as my reward. After all, I was a Freshman and you can’t expect anything more from me. Just ask my mother!

August 23, 2012July 25, 2014

Friends are Family

This past week has brought back a lot of memories, as a close friend of mine lost his sister. We all grew up together in the sleepy little town of White City and our two families were pretty close. A town where we all know each other anyway, but this is different. Russ’s dad and my dad worked together and commuted to work in their old Chevy pickups, only back then they weren’t that old. In the seventies a ’67 wasn’t that old! Russ and I were in the same class and Leah was in my sister’s class. Growing up with the Sams’ was cool. Russ and I rode bicycles until motorcycles came along and then it was “game on”. Lot’s of dust and wheelies through the summers mixed in with trips to the Council Grove Lake. Where else but small town America can you ride twenty miles to the lake on the tailgate of a pickup? Right down the highway, tennis shoes touching the asphalt and facing cars as they came up behind you. Good times.

Our house or theirs, it didn’t matter. Ralph and Joyce and Jean and Sammy were our folks and as a kid I couldn’t ask for more. But as we grew older and our lives started to change, so did the connection we had. Years passing with a blink of an eye as our own families grew and Russ and his wife Kay moved away. On many occasions they would return and a handshake and a hug got us caught up on what we’ve missed. Friends like this need no introduction. We all have them, but we don’t usually recognize them. They are there and we take them for granted. I over-heard Russ say after the amazing service celebrating Leah’s life “why does it take something like this to bring us all together?” He’s right.

Last night Russ and his son Jeremy and daughter Whitney came over to my house. We talked about White City, his property in Skiddy, dogs, senior pictures, owl tattoos and mutual friends.We talked about Leah and how her husband Jim was getting along, but mostly we just talked. In an hour of talking with my friend, we made up for several years of being away from each other. So much was said in the small talk, but you really had to listen to the conversation. As if reading between the lines I heard the words Life, Love, Friendship and God. Russ you are my friend. Truly. Leah, you will be missed until we meet again!