Tag: ride

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The Same Mistake Twice

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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.

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“Those That Can, Ride”

1974 Harley-Davidson 90
1974 Harley-Davidson 90

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.”

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Stop Your Complaining

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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.

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Bucket List

sunsetBack in the day some bikers refered to a helmet as a “lid” or “bucket” when sitting around telling mostly true stories with their buddies. We all have certain terms for things as we often refer to our motorcycle as a “ride” or “steel horse.” So let’s take the “bucket” and use that as a question. What is your “bucket list.” Or better yet, what is your helmet list? All of us are in different stages in making our helmet list and often that list changes as we get older. Some things are crossed off the list with enthusiasm, while others seem impossible to achieve. As I ride I find some things just cross themselves off as if I set out to conquer it, but in reality it was just by chance that the item on the list happened without even trying. The whole reason for our helmet list is to make sure that we experience and enjoy life, no matter what it is you set out to do. 

Now you just don’t fall out of a plane by accident when the goal was to go parachuting, but to see the sunset from the most random place is quite frankly, a pretty big deal to me. To have a great conversation with a long-lost friend might not make your list, but for me is one that I can check off. I think that sometimes we make our helmet list so difficult we find ourselves miserable when we can’t get anything crossed off.

Sure, I have several things I want to achieve in my life but I also want to enjoy every possible experience I can. After all, that is what life is about. Experiences. Riding a motorcycle can open the door of experiences you may not get anywhere else. You can meet some amazing people who can also share experiences they’ve had along the way. Of course, in some cases it may not be a helmet list to them, but maybe a “bandana list” is more their style. To each their own!

If you haven’t made your helmet list, you should. If you don’t have a helmet, get one. And a motorcycle as well. You might find that as you ride, that list inside your bucket will slowly disappear, along with some things you weren’t expecting. At least for a while, the stress of life and the problems at work have a way of sorting themselves out. Take a ride to the coast, ride through the mountains or to the corner store. But ride. Mentally cross off those things you see that weren’t on your list. Looking over my shoulder at a beautiful sunset while pumping gas is one of mine, and I tell myself – at this moment, right now, I am right where I want to be. Check.

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Chasing Horizons

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

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

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

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Hard RD.

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

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

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

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It’s Never Too Late

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Yesterday a friend of mine mentioned of having thoughts of mortality because of the loss of a close friend. Along with other things going on in and around her life with family, my only comment was “this is what makes us realize how precious life really is”. I too, have had these thoughts the last couple of years with the loss of a couple of friends. Both losses didn’t make much sense and to this day still don’t. But every day I get up, do my best, be myself and carry on with the day-to-day stuff. While most of the “stuff” I refer to is pretty meaningless in the big picture, it needs to be done. But more importantly, it needs to be done. It is the “stuff” we do that gets us through every day, whether it’s dealing with mortality, or stress or whatever. So we do it. Sometimes begrudgingly, but we do it all the same.

My approach to the last couple of years of dealing with these thoughts have been simply to tell those around me how important they are in my life. It’s not something we usually do, I know, but think about it. A few simple words of encouragement, a random message that you are thinking of them, or better yet a “thank you” for being a person in your life can give both parties a clear understanding of where we are in this world. I may not see you or talk to you again before something sudden happens. But if something does, if nothing else, I know we both know. Realize, that if you volunteer to someone what you think about them, and you don’t get the same response, it’s ok. Just know that when they walk away they will be thinking about what you said.

There are a lot of inspirational quotes to fall back on that can bring reassurance and peace to our lives, but the impact of a few original words from your mouth can change people. And the feeling it gives you is the same peace in our lives that we need. Outcomes in life can’t always be changed. And we can go through life thinking people know how we feel about them. Maybe they do know, but what better way to make sure than to tell them yourself?

Live your life and enjoy even the bad days. It’s ok to feel the way you do and to open up your heart even if it hurts. Easier said than done, without a doubt, but today is the day someone may need to hear how important they are to you.  So tell them.

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A Lost Art

A week or so ago I met Bubba Blackwell in Grapevine, Texas. It wasn’t the first time meeting him for me, but to him it was probably like the first time meeting me. To phrase that another way, I remember him and he didn’t remember me!

For those who don’t know who Bubba Blackwell is, he jumps Harley-Davidson XR750’s over whatever is in front of him. Most people will remember Evil Knievel and Bubba’s occupation is much the same. Sit at the end of a long stretch of pavement, look at a ramp, pin it, land safely, and repeat next weekend.

Now I don’t know about you but this isn’t something normal people will do for fun let alone compensation. He’s good at it and needs to be rewarded handsomely in the process. That is what makes it a lost art. If you are going to stand out in an occupation, pick one that doesn’t have a long line of potential applicants waiting to get in. Heart surgeons? There’s a few of those. Rocket scientists? Plenty, I’m sure. Guys like me? Dime a dozen. But Bubba? Evil? Robbie? Sure there are more, but in that field of expertise you have to be good. Real good. Or you don’t last long. I know a lot of folks go to see the down side of jumping motorcycles, but everyone there wants to see a successful jump.

Bubba is a great guy. We talked and he is just as down-to-earth as one can get. He truly loves what he does and it shows. Did I mention he’s good at it? He is.

Go to you-tube and watch. Follow him on Facebook and twitter. Better yet, go to one of his shows. He is a true professional.

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The Beaten Path Less Traveled

So I’ve been thinking about the road less traveled. We motorcyclists seem to search out this road to find the peace and serenity of a curvy or tree-lined way of getting there. Usually it’s a short two-lane between cities or major highways, but beautiful none the less. But how far is the road less traveled? How far is “off the beaten path”?

A road trip to Sturgis in 2007 found me and six of my friends on one of these roads. It was a Sunday and it didn’t take us long to find out that in some remote places of this country there is a world of folks that take Sunday off! Mostly gas station attendants and repair shops. As we rode into the Northwest of Nebraska we soon found out that the more you need gas, the harder it is to find. A great idea of a modern version of the old gas station,open 24 hours, to include beef jerky, hotdogs on heated rollers and pay at the pump gas, more commonly known as a convenience store, had yet to make it to this corner of Nebraska.

As we pulled into a farmer’s co-op this Sunday afternoon with a closed sign in the window and no pay at the pump, it was decided that a restroom was also a pretty important part of the modern conveniences we have come to expect. Well what do seven guys do when nature calls? We answer  the phone! Standing next to a bulk fuel truck and our backs to the highway, we found the one person that does work on a Sunday. He wears a badge and drives a pretty fast car. He pulls in and asked what we were doing in a very nice but firm manner. We explained the situation and expecting the worse, he was quick to get on the one piece of modern technology that did make this far off the beaten path, his cell phone! He called the one guy that could come and open the co-op for us to get gas.

Relieved, in more ways than one, we stayed for a little while and spent some money on Snickers bars and Mountain Dew. The appreciation on our faces was obvious and the officer stayed and hung out as well. It is truly amazing at the helpfulness of those in the small towns. I know as I’m from one myself. But to go out of your way and help is a two way street. Pass it on or pay it forward. Take the road less traveled and relax. Meet the local people face to face, or wave at the young boys on their bicycles as you ride through town. It’s a pretty universal language.

As I said, coming from a small town myself I know how these communities struggle. Next time you stop for gas, buy that candy bar or hotdog on a heated roller and show your support. You never know, that same place may not be open next time you pass through without your support.

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Summertime 1974

1974 Harley-Davidson 90

1974

Long, hot, endless summer days. Where the sky was blue with big white clouds. All I knew was my folks didn’t care what I did all summer but I had to be home by six. How I knew it was six p.m. is beyond me but supper was always ready and I’d better be there.

I was an impressionable kid and motorcycles were new to me. My brother got me interested with talk of them and a random magazine in the house to give me a visual. Trips to a couple of local dealerships and I was hooked. Picking up free brochures and reading them cover to cover studying everything from dry weights to tire sizes. As if some day I would be asked and a grand prize was in the balance. So the day my dad brought home an AMF Harley-Davidson 90 in the back of his ’67 Chevy truck was the day the earth stood still. Or at the very least the day seemed to be really long.

So the day my dad brought home an AMF Harley-Davidson 90 in the back of his ’67 Chevy truck was the day the earth stood still. Or at the very least the day seemed to be really long.

We had a pasture by the house I grew up in and we were able to spend many hours of every day riding aimlessly around and knocking down the tall grass to make trails. To this day I can still smell the yellow weeds that grew in that field. I would ride that 90 all day only stopping for gas and maybe a drink from the hose, and then back at it. After all I would be riding the Springfield Mile before long and I needed to practice. My stars and stripe helmet with a bubble shield and cheap gloves that turned my hands black as they sweat. Great times.

Simple. Pure. How can I get those days back? I read Dirtbike and Motocross Action. Cycle World and Cycle. Every word, over and over. never throwing an issue away. I practiced and pretended. Always wanting to ride and and explore. And I did. Long hours of riding with learning to fix what broke or wore out. I looked up to the local guys that rode the big bikes. If we heard a motorcycle coming down the road, we stopped what we were doing to watch as it went by. And of course I knew what the dry weight and tire size was!

Those were the days. Not much exposer on t.v. Wide World of Sports but who had a t.v. guide? Three channels and even so, I was too busy riding. On Any Sunday had a grip on me and I still love watching that film. It was the story of my life.

I still feel like that kid when I ride. It is a feeling of the the motorcycle as a part of me. It’s always been that way and always will. Looking back on the day my father brought home that 90 he had no idea what an effect it would have on me, or how it would change my life. My dad has never ridden a motorcycle but has always supported my habit and I love him for that.

Whether we are young or old when we start riding makes no difference. The days may not seem as long, but we can still go out and practice for the Springfield Mile.