motorcycle – Page 5 – Jeff Maddox

June 11, 2013June 12, 2013

Puzzled

Life happens and as it does, it changes us. Daily. The morning’s ride to work is usually something that is ordinary and uneventful, but as I put my kickstand down after arriving at work, I stopped and realized I couldn’t remember the ride in. Twenty minutes had gone by and although I was coherent and aware of the ride, all I could remember was that two miles of Skiddy where the temperature dropped. The smell of cedar trees and how they reminded me of the pencils my mother would bring home from Anderson’s Lumber and Hardware where she worked part-time. I used those pencils in school and as I was leaving my teeth marks in them during Mrs. Stenstrom’s class, that smell of cedar must have stayed with me. Or was it the lead in those pencils?

I thought about a life-long friend of mine, Russ, who is moving back to Skiddy in the near future and how it would be to move your life back to where you grew up, after so many years of living in Wisconsin. Not difficult in the sense of moving your stuff, but in the emotional sense. I often think I should have taken the chance and moved outside of White City and experienced something else. Sure, the community made me who I am, but would moving have changed me? Again, life happens every day, so would it have been that big of a deal to move? Hmmm. Even so, I thought about those friends of mine that I grew up with and how some have stayed, but most have moved on. I still feel that connection with a few of them and it feels good to know that no matter where someone is in this world, we’ll always have that going for us.

The ride continued past the Skiddy Cemetery and I noticed how the sun was coming up over a bank of dark clouds in the East. The edge of the clouds filtered the sun just enough to make this particular morning look a little different. Or was it one of those life moments when I was changing. To see something in a different light might have a new meaning here. Maybe there is a scientific reason for the different light and how it affects you but I’m betting it’s more of a spiritual reason. The ride continued on, and I thought about how our lives are kind of like puzzles. The big difference here is we don’t know what the finished picture is going to be. Each piece we place in our puzzle of life changes what the picture will be and eventually the outcome, and each piece is represented by those people in our lives, our jobs, our environment, etc. A subtle change is all it takes to completely change the entire puzzle of life. It’s not necessarily a good or bad thing here, it’s just the way it is. As we get about half way through our puzzle, we can start seeing the cabin by the water (or apparently a forest of cedar trees in my case) and the puzzle seems to be falling into place. Then a few more pieces are placed and you realize that this puzzle may be harder than you think. One thing is for sure; those that “fit” into our puzzle will be there to stay. A lot to think about on a twenty-minute ride. Or in this case; what ride?

So I made it to work safe and sound. In summary, science says when you ride into a valley the temperature will probably drop a few degrees. Also, someone decided cedar trees make good pencils, and you must have patience to put a puzzle together. But for twenty minutes I thought about friends that are dear to me and how we fit into each other’s lives. Friends near and far will always be friends, and some are very close to me no matter how far away they are. They are an important piece to my puzzle and without them my life wouldn’t be complete.

June 5, 2013February 13, 2016

A Little Bit of Epic

Some people have a way about them. There are those who are driven and challenged to be something bigger than the moment they live in. I believe Neale Bayly is this kind of person. I haven’t met Neale, but I understand him from a motorcyclist’s point of view. As bikers, we are always looking for “epic” in every ride but end up finding so much more than that. Neale has a series airing on MAVTV this month about his ride on BMW GS series motorcycles through Peru to the Hogar Belen Orphanage. The ride takes Neale and his friends from Lima to Moquegua to visit this orphanage where Neale has visited before. He was inspired enough to start the nonprofit organization called Wellspring International Outreach to help orphans and abandoned children.

It becomes about the surroundings and environment you’re in and it changes you. There is something about traveling on a motorcycle that brings the people to you.

The world can seem so big but so small at the same time. Neale has traveled this world and along the way has had plenty of time to think and take in all the sights, smells and sounds that travel can put you through. As a biker myself, I can tell you it runs so much deeper than that for him. I have taken week-long trips and as the ride goes, your mind will take you further into the trip than any motorcycle ever will. It becomes about the surroundings and environment you’re in and it changes you. There is something about traveling on a motorcycle that brings the people to you. No matter where you are headed, you are the one traveling into their world where you are welcomed with smiles and waves, and complete strangers are coming up to you to talk about your trip. Now take that to a global stage, where language and barriers require you to be dedicated to the trip at hand. For that I admire anyone who can take that on. At this point, language becomes secondary as compassion takes over.

To simply say “it changed my life” does not do it justice, and in Neale’s case it inspired him to change other people’s lives.

Epic trips take the ordinary and familiar to an extraordinary level. When a trip becomes epic it transforms you and all those involved. To simply say “it changed my life” does not do it justice, and in Neale’s case it inspired him to change other people’s lives. Now that is epic. I would like to think as I have traveled on my motorcycle and I’ve taken the time to say a few words to someone I have met, they will take something away from our chance meeting – I know I do. The faces, the words spoken and the handshakes and smiles are forever burned in my memory and I did nothing but ride into someone’s life and say hello. Now picture yourself taking the time to actually change someone’s life for the better and the impact you can have on a community and the people who need the help. Epic.

I look forward to watching Neale Bayly Rides when it airs. I’ll watch because it is about Neale and his group riding motorcycles through Peru on an adventure of a lifetime. But let’s face it – it’s not about the motorcycles, it’s about everything around the trip that makes it epic. If motorcycles are the reason you check it out, that’s okay too. But as you’re watching take a minute to look at the people and the faces in the background. Watch Neale’s reaction when his fellow rider’s Troy, James, Laura, Brandon and Bill meet the children of Hogar Belen; that is when the trip just became an epic adventure.

I said before that I haven’t yet met Neale. I say “haven’t yet” because as a motorcyclist our paths may cross at some point. As bikers we ride with our heads up looking at all that is around us, eager to meet fellow riders and locals along the way. Every ride has a little bit of epic built-in and I know Neale’s epic rides will continue. They have to – because the inspiration he gives to those of us that do ride and the impact he has on those because he rides can’t be measured. Thanks Neale, and ride safe!

May 6, 2013May 6, 2013

The Same Mistake Twice

The further I get into the future, the more I reflect on the past. It’s funny how the older we get the more we say “I remember when.” We often use that term when it comes to cars, motorcycles and even our friends because the history we are creating while living our lives often requires us to look back to tell the story. So that’s what we do – we tell stories, stretch the truth and laugh about the good times. We look back and laugh because even those bad days weren’t that bad after all.

I’m as guilty as the next person when it comes to this as my tall tales get even taller and in most cases it always ends up being funnier than when it actually happened. Case in point; it was 1976 and me and my trusty Yamaha DT175 were out to the Katy trails just behind the White City Cemetery for a little fun in the dirt. Disregarding all common sense for my own safety, I would usually ride alone and not once in my Bell helmet did I hear my mother saying anything about clean underwear or “wait until your father gets home.” So off I went the two miles or so as the crow flies, (of course I felt like I was flying as any teenage boy would on his motorcycle) to spend the afternoon jumping and climbing a few hills.

Who hasn’t ridden a motorcycle only to suffer a mechanical break-down? Not me. Over the years I have become very keen on what is a real break-down compared to a road-side fix. But it wasn’t an overnight education. After the first few minutes of getting to the Katy trails, I laid my motorcycle over on the left side. Not a real bad crash by any means, but it was enough to get up and dust myself off. I picked up the DT to find my shift lever bent underneath the engine case. Not knowing what to do, I pushed it more than two miles home (I’m not a crow) back into the yard. My brother Danny was a huge help in pointing out the obvious solution to my problem – grab hold of the shift lever and bend it back out. There, problem solved. Why wasn’t it obvious to me? It sure would have saved me a lot of effort and it would have kept me riding for the afternoon. But from where I was standing the problem seemed to big to handle on the side of the trail. I was apparently more concerned about clean underwear and if my dad was home yet I guess.

Looking back at the situation now I can laugh about it. Not only did it not seem funny at the time, it also gave me plenty of time to think about it as I pushed it home. But it’s a lessened learned and it definitely builds character. It also gives you the satisfaction of knowing that you won’t make the same mistake twice. Fast forward to 2008 and I’m riding my Harley-Davidson Heritage Softail. For some reason, every time I shift gears up or down, it takes excessive force. What in the world is wrong with my transmission? After talking to a friend of mine, he told me I need to put a little lubricant on the pivot for the heal-toe lever. Hmmm, lubrication. Who would have thought? At least I had my clean underwear on.

April 16, 2013

Motivation by Recreation

It’s been a long time. Years. A certain period of time in your life when the weather was just winter or summer. Nothing in between, just one or the other. We were either going to school or we were out for the summer, and as kids that was all we knew. As we got older, we started to notice the difference in the seasons and that there was actually a clock on the wall. Life was going on around us and we were taking in the view beyond the grasshoppers, mud puddles and those really straight sticks you would find every so often that you couldn’t stand to leave behind. We were growing up.

All of a sudden life became a little bigger. Where you sat in the car became somewhat of a status symbol. Back seat – a friend, front seat passenger side – good friend, driver seat – popular with your friends, and sitting in the middle of the front seat – girlfriend. At this stage we were just trying to figure out what we were going to do next Saturday night, not what we were going to do with the rest of our lives. We looked forward to the weekends for reasons other than getting caught up on yard work. Motivation by recreation.

But we keep getting older and that clock on the wall keeps ticking. It’s funny, as kids we didn’t notice the clock on the wall and time literally stood still. Now the clock is such a big part of who we are and what we do, it demands our attention. Like it or not, it’s ticking. But as young adults we were starting to realize that there was something bigger coming down the pike.

I’ve ridden motorcycles for a lot of years and just like my friends who played sports in school, I found a sport that I connected with. Somewhere in the middle of White City Kansas as I was riding a wheelie through one of those mud puddles, it should have hit me then that this is what I could be doing for a living. At seventeen, having the 8-track stereo in your car and enough money for pizza and a movie with your girlfriend was the depth of my focus, not a career in the motorcycle business. Looking back there were a couple of things I would have focused on more and that could have directly changed my life.

The winding road of life can take you to places you never dreamed of. Sometimes it’s the long way around and sometimes it was the obvious route that our stubborn, teenage pride or angst ignored. Either way, the old saying “it’s not the destination, it’s the journey” holds true. So here I am, fifty years old and working in the motorcycle business, motivated by one of the things I enjoy doing. The clock is still ticking and I’m still intrigued by a really straight stick when I see one, but I’ve learned to leave it on the ground. I’m riding and writing about motorcycles and my life of growing up in a small town in hopes that someone will find a little humor in it. It has taken a few years but it has finally dawned on me that life is as big as you make it. And I’m in the driver’s seat!

April 10, 2013April 11, 2013

The Mechanics of Emotion

Take a step back. Look. It’s motor in plain site-the oil lines expose and its polished cases reflecting a fun-house image of yourself. The air cleaner is prominent and the cables that run from the hand controls to the power plant are waiting for your every command. The suspension is visible as are the disc brakes-a conflict in horsepower and stopping power, when all it wants to do is go, and go fast. Gears, pistons, bearings and oil. Precision cut with an idea of what is truly possible from internal combustion. Adding to this, a couple of gallons of gasoline sitting between your legs, and you fire it up. The sound, the smell and the vibration of a machine as it runs, brought to life by the push of a button or a kick of a lever.We feel it. Emotion.

We talk of motorcycles as a mechanical object-which they are. but when the inventors of two-wheel motion started assembling the early versions, they were in fact changing how we would feel about transportation that “moves” us. There is a lot of parts and pieces that are required to turn a machine into emotion but it happens with a single spark. It happens every time the motor fires up. A spark can transform peace and quiet-to gears turning, pistons pumping and exhaust throwing out the sound of life. This directly affects our physical and mental state, far beyond what was originally intended by those Harley and Davidson boys.

The mechanical side of motorcycles is something amazing in itself. But the emotional side can be even more complicated to understand. It moves us in a three-dimensional way; physically, socially and emotionally. For over one hundred years, mechanics have never had to replace the emotional part of a motorcycle.

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.

March 28, 2013March 28, 2013

“Those That Can, Ride”

I have been riding now for about forty years and for the life of me I can’t remember how I learned, or if anyone even showed me how to. In my mind it would go something like this-Summer, 1974…Hot and dry as July always goes. Shirtless and shoulder length hair (as the seventies always go) I hop on my first “motorcycle” and tear out in a cloud of dust, shifting through the gears with the front wheel in the air. My friends standing there in awe at my skill and daring attitude. No fear, just guts.

What actually happened is far from that. You see, I had broken my right leg about a month before and I had a plaster cast on it all the way up to my, ahem, crotch. So kick starting was impossible. Heck, bending my leg to put my foot on the peg was impossible. So there it sat. Every day for about a month I would look at it and sit on it all the while my friends were asking “when” and “can I” every five minutes. But July was still hot and dry-my hair was shoulder length and I didn’t know how to ride a motorcycle.

After the cast came off, my poor scrawny leg was weak and I wasn’t very sure-footed. Kick-starting the bike was a bit difficult and I was sure at any time my ankle was going to break all over again. But kick-start the bike I did, and from some place deep inside me I could ride. Ride like I’ve always ridden before…wait, that’s how it was going in my mind. What did happen was more like this-I let out the clutch and I kill it. Kick it again and repeat. But it didn’t take long and before I knew it, I could ride. And it was easy. I was a natural and even though I favored my right leg (always turning left-perfect for the Springfield Mile) it was something that came easy to me. I spent countless hours and miles riding that Harley-Davidson x90 only stopping to cut grass and gas up. I sure didn’t stop for a hair-cut.

I know a few people out there that have tried and found riding motorcycles to be more work than it was worth. Some can catch on like I did but there are a few that either just don’t want to or can’t. I’m good with that. There are plenty of things I’m not good at and I’ll leave that to those that are. What’s the old saying? “Those that can, do. Those that can’t, ride.”

March 21, 2013April 12, 2013

Be The “Enthusiast”

en·thu·si·ast (n-th z-st) n. 1. One who is filled with enthusiasm; one who is ardently absorbed in an interest or pursuit: “he’s a motorcycle enthusiast.”

And that I am. I have been since around 1972 and it has been an amazing ride, pun intended. After forty-plus years of riding just about everything, racing a little on the side and owning more than sixty self-propelled “motors-on-wheels” I can honestly say it has changed my life and made me the individual that I am today. And not only is my enthusiasm still as high today as it was back in the 70’s, I would almost go as far as saying it is even higher. Is that possible? Fifty years old and still getting excited about internal combustion isn’t something I would normally admit but it happens on a daily basis with me. The “motion” of the motorcycle and the “emotion” of a motorcycle still brings a smile to my face.

In 1974 with the help of my dad, and a pocket-full of cash saved from mowing lawns I bought my first motorcycle from the dealership that I currently work at today. Think about that for a minute-City Cycle Sales Harley-Davidson in Junction City Kansas (Since 1962) sold me my first Harley-Davidson X90 in 1974. After that, a Yamaha 550 Maxim, Husky 175 enduro and a Yamaha Warrior 4-wheeler. I raced both the 4-wheeler and a Honda CR250 back in the 80’s and Wayne sponsored me. Lot’s of parts and accessories purchased along the way and look at me now. Selling Harley-Davidson, Suzuki and Kawasaki’s at City Cycle Sales and loving every minute of it. Since then I have purchased a couple more units and three Harley-Davidson’s. A Sportster 883, Heritage Softail Classic and my current ride is a Road King.

Wow, how the time flies when you’re having fun! With all these years of riding under my belt, it has helped me put many, many customers on the motorcycle of their dreams. But it has also put me in a unique position. You see, I’m not just a Harley-Davidson guy, dirt bike guy or a sport bike rider. I don’t focus on one brand or just one category in this power-sports business. I am a enthusiast. I like ALL things power-sports and sometimes it’s hard to convince customers of that. So many riders are brand loyal and I’m good with that. But not to the point where I “dislike” someone’s brand choice in motorcycles, or why they don’t have the same interests as I do.

I deal with all kinds of riders and their varying degrees of interests. From the extreme and hard-core, to the casual weekend rider that would rather take the Buick. I also need to be able to talk about the new Honda, KTM or any other “latest and greatest” gizmo or motorcycle when someone wants to compare bikes and parts. Not to mention the vast number of makes and models and every detail of each one and what makes them different (better or worse) than the other. I deal with the brand new, never ridden a motorcycle in their life to the veteran rider like myself. Men, women, parents with their kids and everyone in between. I also act as a psychologist for the mid-life crisis crowd. But I do it, all with a smile on my face. I find it rewarding to see their enthusiasm grow as the process begins, and most importantly, where it ends. I also see the value in being able to describe what it’s like to ride and how it has changed my life-and how it can change theirs.

Sure, the days are long and retail has its challenges with the six-day work week. When the weather is nice everyone is out riding and you’re not. But I’m involved. And I would like to be even more involved. One thing is for sure, if you don’t like what you do, you need to do something different. But I do like what I do. The folks in this industry are a close-knit family and it shows. We get “it.” We get each other and we are ready in invite anyone new into this amazing sport. We are enthusiasts.

If you find yourself involved in this industry as I am, and you aren’t having fun or you’re bored or frustrated in what you do, remember what it is that brought you into this sport. Take yourself back to that moment when you realized the impact the motorcycle had on you. Mine was a dealer who cared enough to see my enthusiasm and build upon that over forty years ago.

March 19, 2013

A Back-Roads Summer

Living in a rural community in Kansas, it’s not hard to travel the “back-roads.” After all, you have to take these quiet highways just to get anywhere. In about twenty minutes these two-lane roads around home can get me to any of the neighboring communities while throwing in a little bit of scenery along the way. Sure, in some parts of Kansas you can see the next towns elevator or water tower in the horizon, or maybe it’s wheat fields and sunflowers for miles. I truly can find the beauty in this being from Kansas and all. But as I travel these roads almost daily on my way to work or running errands, sometimes I just let it roll by without taking it in. We bikers always talk about taking the long way home or we listen for someone to speak of an interesting road they were on that we have yet to find. I have found that if you have the same predictable pattern of where you ride, these roads become stale and a bit boring. Sure the seasons change and that will give you a different perspective, and we all know every little bit helps.

But what would happen if we just reversed the route in which we take? How about taking the long way to work? Hey, I’m a creature of habit, and the long way home after work always leads to, well… home. But what about taking the long way to work? Sure, it can be done. I just have to get up a little earlier and be mentally prepared for wild animals and unfamiliar corners that sneak up on you. Who knows, maybe by changing my route to work I can convince myself that this back-road is a new, untraveled road that I can tell my friends about. Of course by changing my route, those that I regularly see on my way home or to work will wonder where I’m at, while the new route will bring brand new people to wave at and curiosity will make them think a biker has moved into their community. Just like the family that lives near the train tracks, after a while you don’t hear the train. My new route will have people thinking a train is coming! Come on, my pipes aren’t that loud…

So make this a “back-road” summer. Take the long way home or the long way to work. Change it up and make it interesting. Do what you would normally NOT do. Be different. But make sure you do the one thing you want to do-RIDE.

March 11, 2013July 10, 2013

Stop Your Complaining

So when did we become so picky? Comfort, performance, handling and all that. If you look back over the years and think about how far technology has brought the motorcycle then sure, be picky. Analog speedo and tach. Big neutral, turn-signal and high beam indicator lights. Waffle grips. Rubber covered foot pegs…no, the other kind that were huge and slippery. Kick starters and chain and sprockets on everything. Tail lights? Bigger the better, right? Turn signals as big as your fist and steel fenders. Reliability? Forget about it. Wow.

But picky we can be. Who needs sleek and colorful? It didn’t matter back then because we were focused on other issues, like “one down and four up” kinda things. Windshields? I don’t think so. Fuel mileage-Who needs it? Proper gear? No thanks, I’ll wear my flannel shirt, work gloves and line-man lace up boots. And where did I put my bubble face shield? Sure, we’ve come a long way since those days and I really don’t ever want to go back. But every time I catch myself complaining about this thing or that on my motorcycle, I stop and ask myself what is it that I really have to complain about?

After all, life is good when it comes to the modern motorcycle. Think about it, if we were out riding today on those hideous motorcycles we were riding thirty years ago, we would still be out there riding for the fun of it. We just didn’t know any better. Electric motorcycles? Why not? If you would have told me in 1979 that in the future…you know, 2013, that there would be not just one, but several electric motorcycles on the market today, I would have called you crazy. And here we are in the future, electric motorcycles and all.

So we have a several things going on here. Fun versus function, and style versus boring. We ride because it’s fun but we appreciate the transformation of kick-start to electric start, carburetor to fuel injection and so forth. We appreciate the styling and a creative use of materials on modern bikes instead of using a blacksmith to hammer out steel side-covers. Who couldn’t use of couple of extra pounds on their motorcycle where it’s not needed?

So next time I’m riding my Road King, I will consciously put out the effort to say what I “like” about it instead of what I “dislike” about it. Or maybe I’ll just think back to 1977 and how my bell bottom pants leg got chewed up in my chain and sprocket.