motorcycle – Page 3 – Jeff Maddox

December 1, 2015

I’ll Take That Bet

As a half-inch of ice covers my little world, I find myself walking past my motorcycle in the garage wondering if it will ever see sunlight again. I know it will, but at the end of November it feels like a warm(er) day of riding is a long way from today.
I have been known to ride through the dark days of winter and as long as it’s not dangerous, I can put up with cold temperatures. I draw the line however, at dangerous or soon-to-be dangerous roads. There are too many things out of my control when dealing with the weather and those other folks that have their hands on the steering wheel sharing my little piece of asphalt. Like pulling up a chair in Vegas at the blackjack table you have to know when to hold’em and know when to fold’em. Ice? I fold’em.

So when I ran into the owner of this motorcycle, I had to question his sanity. He left central Missouri on his way to York Nebraska for Thanksgiving, stopping just long enough to warm up and make a phone call or two. It was on the Wednesday before the holiday and it was cold and over-cast but dry. He said he was returning on Saturday, and me being a junior meteorologists and the proud owner of a crystal ball, I told him there was no way he would be riding back on Saturday. He proved me wrong, but he also proved me right at the same time. I was wrong about him coming back by on Saturday, but I was right about how riding in the winter is all about mental fortitude. He was soaked through and through. His leather jacket and insulated bib overalls were heavy with drizzle and his gloves were dripping from the ice that was melting on them. He was in high spirits considering his situation. As for me, I would have pulled over long before I got to this point. Not that I don’t have the fortitude to ride in the cold, and for that matter I feel I would have been a little more prepared by wearing a proper rain suit. But the roads were only going to get worse and the traffic was heavy due to the holiday. In other words, not a good hand at the blackjack table and it was not a good bet to continue on.

So after a handshake and a pat on his shoulder wishing him a safe trip, he climbed aboard his bike and took off heading east with another 3-4 hours of road ahead of him. Knowing he would arrive at his destination after dark, I knew the worst was yet to come for him. The glare from the headlights off the icy windshield and his full-face helmet would be sketchy at best and all of this while being tired and cold. I hope he made it safely. I hope he knows that complete strangers were worried about him. I hope he knows how dangerous it was to be doing this.

I know one thing for sure. He made a promise to me on Wednesday that he would return, and he did. A man of his word – and I have a feeling he made someone else a promise that he would make it home safe and sound. Safe travels my friend and I know we’ll meet again.

November 2, 2015

More Than Words Can Say

Pictures really do say more than words. An image can bring words to life and put both the writer and reader right there on the same page, so to speak.

With technology today, we have forgotten how to thumb through pages in photo albums during a family get-together. The heavy pages were full of memories yellowed by time and fuzzy like the stories we told about each image.

Time passes and memories may fade a little, but they’re our memories and as long as we can record them – whether digitally or on film – they will be great memories.

September 2, 2015February 15, 2016

Sturgis or…Bust?

I was so looking forward to the 75th Annual Sturgis Rally and at one point I wasn’t sure if this year was going to happen – read: Clarityville. Like every year, this gives me a chance to get away and spend a week riding the highways and byways of Kansas, Nebraska and South Dakota while finding interesting things along the way. As I’ve said before, Sturgis is a great place to turn around because it’s the ride I so look forward to, and although a good time is always had during the rally, weather can also play a big part in having a great trip versus a good trip. You see, there really isn’t such a thing as a bad trip to Sturgis. Well…

Planning this trip every year always starts about a week after I get back from the rally, and last year was no different. As winter rolls in you lose a little urgency and just like everything else, plans are put on the back-burner until the first break in the weather and then it all fires back up. Who’s going, who can’t go and all the other details and gossip that go along with planning for Sturgis seem to find their way into the conversation whenever there’s the false sense of Spring in air. We know the trip is happening but like a kid who can’t wait for the last day of school, it’s not getting here fast enough. I swear, we’re just like little kids sometimes.

I heard rumors and I’ve seen old grainy photos of what appears to be people going to Sturgis with dare I say, their motorcycle on a trailer. Heck, I didn’t know you could put a motorcycle on a trailer and why would you? It is a self-propelled machine capable or moving bodies and souls great distances with little more than the twist of the throttle. So this year it happened to me; in a borrowed trailer I hauled my touring bike to the rally. Gasp! A touring bike on a trailer. Where do you buy a t-shirt that says “I hauled mine?” Oh, the verbal beating I will take for this.

Gasp! A touring bike on a trailer. Where do you buy a t-shirt that says “I hauled mine to Sturgis 2015?” Oh, the verbal beating I will take for this.

Let me say this. After hitting rain across the Kansas/Nebraska border, hauling it didn’t seem so bad. After all, I’m delicate. I’ve ridden to the rally 8 years in a row with nothing to prove, and this “pulling a trailer” thing was a little foreign to me. Such things as wipers, a comfortable seat with armrests and climate control changed everything. If I didn’t know any better, I would have wondered why there were so many bikes on the road all heading in the same direction. But wait, I knew better. After a long day behind the wheel, camp was set up, the bike was unloaded and it was a quick ride into Sturgis for a bite to eat. Lot’s of people and somewhat tough to park, but not too bad. Saturday night was pretty uneventful and after all, I did have a long day driving. Can you tell I’m a little bitter about not riding this year? Yeah.

Sunday plans were to ride to Spearfish and head through the canyon to Lead and then south to Rapid City. Back up through Custer State Park into Keystone, Hill City and Deadwood, ending back up in Sturgis. A good days riding and I really hoped to get 250 miles on the bike before it got hot and crowded in the Black Hills. That was the plan… Hitting I-90 west to Spearfish my motorcycle coughed and hesitated. Hmmm. Surely a fluke, I thought to myself. Stopping in Lead about 60 miles later, the decision was made to go back to Sturgis, abandoning the plans due to heavy traffic and a bunch of folks out on the roads that probably shouldn’t have been there – at least on motorcycles. What’s a couple of close calls among friends?

After getting back into town and wandering around for a few hours it was time to head back to the campground for a siesta. Apparently pulling a trailer with your motorcycle in it can wear a fella out. Pulling up to a stop sign leading up to the main drag in and out of Sturgis, my bike died. I fired it up, got a block further and it died again. Rinse, lather, repeat for another couple of blocks and then it wouldn’t start. An innocent bystander watching the parade of bikes rolling into town from his front yard, asked if I needed a ride somewhere, and I gladly accepted. Pretty handy having a pickup and trailer just down the road in the campground isn’t it?

I know what you’re thinking. Am I glad I towed the bike to the rally? Yes, and of course no. The unpredictability of a breakdown is always there no matter where you ride. I’ve been fortunate enough to not have this happen to me on any other trip, and I guess I was probably due. The fact that I trailered this year is pure luck and as a biker, we usually have a plan B in the event of a breakdown. You do have a plan B don’t you?

So as much as I wanted to stay, it was a little difficult getting around in the pickup. With my frustration level peaking, it was only logical to leave the rally early. Two days early. Driving as far as North Platte Nebraska to spend the night, the rain convinced me that I would rather be in the cab of the truck than on a bike. What is it about rain and Nebraska? Or am I getting soft? I think I actually used the word “delicate” earlier. Wednesday, when I should have been planning on an evening at The Knuckle Saloon for the fights I was changing a blowout on the trailer which ruined the tire and wheel. A borrowed trailer at that. Thanks Russ!

All said, it was a trip to be remembered. Pictures? I took 14. Miles ridden? 80. Rain? Yes. Will there be a next year? Probably.

July 9, 2015July 5, 2016

Next Stop – Clarityville

I often wonder what really rolls around in this head of mine when I’m on my motorcycle. I do quite a bit of thinking behind my handlebars but to pinpoint one single thing would be difficult. My thoughts bounce around to many different things and sometimes even come back to the beginning of when the ride started. I’ve said I do my best thinking inside my helmet and this still holds true, but some days it’s hard to find clarity even on a perfect ride.

I need to get beyond the familiar 22 mile ride to work. Although this daily ride is good, it has become the source of a mental block that I’m finding hard to get around. Even an additional 10 miles added to the trip or an alternate route might suffice, but I still need to head in a different direction – maybe taking the long way to Clarityville. Fresh scenery and different smells would do my noggin some good. I’ve been to Clarityville before and its a nice place to visit on your motorcycle.

Fresh scenery and different smells would do my noggin some good. I’ve been to Clarityville before and its a nice place to visit on your motorcycle.

With Sturgis right around the corner, plans are being made. As always, I leave the “Last Minute” clause open in case I need to pull the plug. Things can change right up until the night before I leave and you have to be mentally prepared to throw in the towel and admit you’re not going. Fortunately for me, I haven’t had to exercise this clause but that’s not to say I haven’t stood there at the 11th hour (or was it 11 o’clock at night?) the night before staring at the bike loaded down patiently waiting to hit the road thinking I would have to cancel the trip. Bummer.

As it stands now, Sturgis looks like it’s a go. I need a vacation for sure, but I also need to put some miles under me and clean out some cobwebs in my head. What better way than to see some new countryside through these tired old eyes of mine?

March 1, 2015February 15, 2016

An Amazing Machine for a Simple Guy

The long old road of truth awaits those who ride motorcycles. We somehow find our way to places we think we’ve been only to find this time it’s different. It isn’t always about what we see, but more of what we find. Finding the truth about myself and giving validation to everything that goes on inside this pretty little head of mine is exactly what I need when the moment is right. Sure, sometimes those moments are few and oh, so far between. Winter can be longer and harder for a motorcyclist as we need the constant motion and the tilting of horizons to be plumb again. The less vertical we get our bikes, the more true we feel. It’s all about calibration.

“The less vertical we get our bikes, the more true we feel. It’s all about calibration.”

When we finally find answers to questions we never asked, it becomes apparent there is more to us than meets the eye. We ride to not only lose ourselves, but also to get an understanding of why we desire to get lost in the first place. Having ridden motorcycles for so many years it has proven itself as a vehicle for answers. What’s over the next hill and around the next curve? My motorcycle will answer that question. How cold is it and how hard is it raining two miles down the road? Yep, you got it. How far is the next gas station and will I make it? I’m confident my motorcycle will let me know the answer to that one. Not every answer is something we want to hear or see for that matter.

Those answers to life’s questions come to me in the form of reflection and contemplation. I’ve often said my motorcycle is where I do my best thinking and this remains true. The longer the ride, the further I reflect. Reflection seems to put me on the road to find what I search for internally. I don’t know if we are designed to find all the answers to life’s questions as I think it is the search for these answers that keeps us moving. As long as I’m moving, I’m good.

You have your own reasons for riding as I do. Our motorcycles provide us with the stimulation for all our senses and it’s hard to give just one reason. Transportation, recreation, motion and emotion is a lot to expect from our bikes but they handle it well. I can do my best thinking when I’m not thinking about much at all, and I often see more of my surroundings without even looking. An amazing machine for such a simple guy like me.

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 8, 2014April 15, 2016

Tie Breaker

On occasion, from the seat of my high-mileage motorcycle, I will sift through the many wins and losses in my life. As we all know it’s not about keeping score, but the score can indirectly determine how we end up in this world. The more losses, the stronger and harder we play, and the more wins – well, I hope we still play strong and hard. The true test is how we handle the set-backs and how gracious we are when things actually go our way.

I sure spend a lot of time thinking when perched upon my motorcycle. It is within these elements that I find a certain frame of mind that allows me to come to some sort of conclusion to my little world.

As distant roads call me by my first name, I have to admit I’m ready to go somewhere. Anywhere. It’s almost like a confessional for me as I ride down the road on my bike. Admitting to myself my shortcomings, where I went wrong in the past, accepting the outcomes from decisions I’ve made, and where I could have played harder and stronger to get more of what I want out my short time on earth. How can I spend so much time looking within when there is a whole world in front of me to see? By looking internally I can change the way I perceive the world, and there it is – full circle. My view of the world is based on my life and the choices I’ve made, and by understanding this I can look at the wonders in front of me and see the true beauty – in people, places and everything surrounding it. The fact that I do this from the seat of my motorcycle is just to make the story interesting.

How can I spend so much time looking within when there is a whole world in front of me to see? By looking internally I can change the way I perceive the world, and there it is – full circle.

We do what makes us happy and with happiness comes contentment. It’s important to recognize those happy moments for what they are and when things aren’t going your way it’s equally important to know it’s only temporary. Can you force yourself to be happy? No, but you are the determining factor of how good or bad you feel in any given situation. Looking at the brighter side or seeing the glass half full doesn’t hurt, but convincing yourself that it can always be worse is a step in the right direction.

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We all have those uphill days and I know many times it’s easier to swim with the current instead of fighting for what you want or believe in. It helps me to understand all the intricate pieces to my puzzle when I can have a few miles to look at it from a broader scale. Instead of focusing on each puzzle piece individually, I can see the greater picture. Some of those pieces are infinitely optimistic, while others have to be forced into place with your thumb and convinced to fit. Like the glass being half full, it’s an “almost fit.” Eventually, all pieces will go together. I guarantee it.

I sure spend a lot of time thinking when perched upon my motorcycle. It is within these elements that I find a certain frame of mind that allows me to come to some sort of conclusion to my little world. It gives me clarity and hope that those wins and losses have truly defined who I am. I wonder what the tie breaker will be?

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 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.