June 15, 2010 4:25 AM PDT
I can't help it....
I'm not a biker. i saw some "bikers" almost twice my age acting like they were some kind of knuckle dragging specimen of pure manliness escorting scantily clad teenage girls at a bike show handing out cards for their 1% club asking for support. Seen one of them grab one of the girls ass and give it a good rub. wander if he has a daughter.
I have ridden in every state east of the Mississippi (and yes I sang the little song under my breath to spell that right) and a few west of it. I've ridden 500 miles in blazing heat and 400 and some change with snow on the ground. I've ridden from VA to Ohio in the rain the whole way. Did the west Virginia Turnpike once from Beckley to Charleston in 23 minutes and had to buy a front tire when I got to Charleston. I've had several crotch rockets and just did a total restoration on my Sportster and no body but me and my kids and wife touched it except for the guy who bead blasted the frame cause my stand up booth wasn't big enough. I've never slept on the ground while riding except for one time i did sleep under the wing of a Piper Cherokee 180 at a small airport when i was too tired to go on. But i've slept on the ground, ate bugs, a snake, and in the end, some tree bark, and watched some of my half starved compadres rip a racoon apart to eat it when attending SERE School in the Navy.
I've been asked to join a club before but that ain't my way. I've found that most so-called brothers and sisters have something wrong with them in one way or another that causes them to want unwavering loyalty from you. Like it gives them a license to feck you over and you're supposed to then forgive them cause nothing comes before the club. Well, my wife and kids come before anything or anyone. Next is my country and my duty to respect the title of American that I wear on the cuff of everything I am. My badge of honor that I try to instill in my children is the toils and sacrifices i made in fullfilling my personal calling to serve my country and those innocents who commisioned me to protect their families when death came calling.
I've jumped out of planes, rode bulls, got a blade wound, a bullet wound, a man made fissure in my skull. A plate in my leg, arthritis in both knees and bulging discs in three vertebrea. I didn't get any of that shit on a bike and I damned sure aint riding any distance that is gonna leave me feeling like I lost a fight, nor will i ride off on a trip like the Meet and Greet in Bowling Green without my kids. We're taking the bikes, but we're also taking a Suburban, a trailer, a Mother-in-Law, my oldest Daughters good friend, some chairs, a video camera, maybe A CROQUET SET, A FRISBEE (THAT SCREAMS DOMESTICATED) and probably my laptop and recording equipment so we can make a podcast episode to post after the trip. It's not about whether i can ride in like Lorenso Llamas from some road trip of never ending stops at watering holes, checkin out chics at gas stations that would think i was some kind of perv for staring and then they would walk inside and laugh at how I thought my bike made me more attractive or manly or some shit.
I don't need no bike to define who I am. I'm an American father (meaning that I try each day to teach, and learn from my children) of four who is a decorated veteran, grandson of a WWII vet of the South Pacific, teacher to those who refuse to be a victim, follower of the principals of God and Country and liason to the hereafter for those who missed their guess when they thought my life was something they could take.
Ridin cross country in snow and rain and heat and sleeping outside and fixing your own shit is just some story to tell to try and make something interesting when there is nothing else to show. Who cares if you can fix it and ride it till your the last one? "Biker".....what does that mean? What is it worth? I guess everything if you haven't invested any measure of personal input into anything or any one else in life that that is all you have. To me, compared to my family and my other recreational pursuits. My bike is just one tiny little morsel of my life. It exists to serve me. To serve my family when we ride together. To bring me into contact with others like the good folks of Cycle Fish. The bike is nothing more than a tool for some fullfillment in a little corner of my existence on this earth. It's a trinket of folly. My honor, character, and memory when I pass mean more than this little piece of metal, conceived by some engineer, maybe even with a slide rule and a pocket protector.
Let me tell you what I think.........We're all humans. The way you burn your gasoline has nothing to do with who you are. It's the way you burn or don't burn your bridges. The way you treat people. I would rather be remembered for the dad or grandad who sat and watched a pack of bikers go by and suddenly forgot about them because I needed to wipe the icecream dripping off my daughters chin or stop my boy from ruining his rootbeer float by trying to add some diet Coke. Geesh, diet coke and ice cream, what was he thinking?
