Blessings

God doesn't call you on the phone or send you a text... but he does talk to you and answer your prayers. Just not the way you expect, sometimes.

Look, you don't have to believe in God, that is your choice and I'm not going to try to force my beliefs on you in this blog or on my YouTube channel- that's not what The MotoWriter  is all about. With that said, however, I do believe in God and I believe that, while we don't always hear or see His work, He is always protecting us and keeping us safe.

Broken cables, dead batteries and flat tires- DANG IT!!

How many times have you been out riding, stopped for gas and, when you hit that start button, the only sound you hear is the clicking of the starter solenoid? Have you ever gone out to the garage, fully intent on racking up some miles on an absolutely beautiful day, only to see one of the tires is flattened against the concrete? Or what about, when you're out riding with a couple of your buddies to celebrate a birthday, only to get about a third of the way before the throttle cable on your buddy's antique motorcycle breaks? 

When things like that happen, it's easy to get caught up in the moment, get mad, shake your fist to the sky and ask why you've been forsaken, but have you ever thought that the breakdown might have been God's way of keeping you from harm somewhere further down the road? What if that throttle cable snapping was the answer to your loved one's prayer, asking God to keep you safe? What if that flat tire or dead battery was God's way of stalling you, just long enough to let the truck that was going to run a red light and smash into you, get through the intersection without incident?

It's all about perspective.

I don't pretend to know everything, nor should any of us. I can't say that I've never been annoyed, thrown a tool across the garage or cursed the rain clouds when I wanted to ride and I definitely won't sit here and tell you that I've always had the best attitude about things. What I can say, however, is that the older I get the more I realize just exactly what is, and what isn't, in our control. I can also tell you that with adversity there comes opportunity- I've seen proof of that more times in my life than I can count. 

We should embrace that adversity and learn from it; become better versions of ourselves every time we are faced with a challenge. Life caters to no one and time rolls on, whether we are having a good time riding our motorcycles or if we are broken down in the parking lot of a casino with a couple of our best friends. We should be thankful that the trip didn't end tragically and be grateful for the laughs we shared and the camaraderie we had. 

Good friends, good times and the blessings of the day.

By now you've probably figured out that this piece is directly related to my latest video that I uploaded to my YouTube channel last week. If you haven't seen it, I made it simple for you to find, by linking to it in second paragraph of this post (and I just snuck it in again, here). My plan that day was to bring my two best pals down the coastline, through a few backroads, across the state line and end up at a restaurant & brewhouse for lunch, before making our way back to our respective homes, via some scenic and somewhat winding backroads. 

While we didn't end up at our pre-planned destination, we did end up spending some good quality time riding, laughing and helping each other out. We proved that day, that good times with good friends don't always have to go as planned. With a little faith, a good attitude about our predicament and a little bit of bailing wire and some roadside ingenuity... we still managed to have a great day on our motorcycles and isn't that what it's all about anyway?

Writer's note- 

As I wrote this post, the fact that today marks the 15th anniversary of the day that Hurricane Katrina devastated the Mississippi, Louisiana and Alabama coastline, was not lost on me. Nor was the fact that the people of western Louisiana and eastern Texas are now suffering through similar devastation from Hurricane Laura. Adversity has a way of bringing out the best in people, when you have enough faith to see it, that is. 15 years ago I, along with so many others, saw our coastal home devastated so badly, that I wasn't  sure that we could ever recover from it. But we did. We pulled together, helped each other out and supported each other as Americans, Southerners and most of all, children of God. While our communities still bare the scars that mark that tragic day, we have rebuilt our homes, our cities and our neighborhoods... even better than what they were before that fateful day 15 years ago. 

This message is for all those who are suffering- have faith, help each other, trust in God to give you strength and He will. Don't lose hope- you will recover from this; you will because you must. 

From the MotoWriter, and all of your friends and neighbors to the east, we are praying for your strength and speedy recovery. 

Are you a REAL biker?

How do you know if you are a REAL biker?

I cringed as I typed that. Seriously, I can’t stand it when we label people. Labels are for underwear and beer bottles, not for people. We all do it; we label everyone. This person is my “best friend and ” that person is my “socafriend” (you’re welcome for that one, by the way); George is a “freak”; Candice is a “slut”; Fred is a “loser”; Tom is a “biker.” We just can’t help ourselves. 

So, how do know if you’re a REAL biker? Well, let’s take a look and see if we can figure out what a real biker actually is. The Merriam-Webster Dictionary defines a biker as, “a person who rides a bicycle or motorcycle” while the Urban Dictionary defines a biker as “someone who not only owns a motorbike but rides it for pleasure as well as mere transport. They tend to be a friendly bunch but any who crosses them will be ‘persuaded’ not to do so again!” Ooohh… UD's definition seems pretty ominous, right? Of course, the Urban Dictionary is implying that a “biker” is someone that may, or may not, be associated with a certain group, or groups, of motorcycle enthusiasts that don’t necessarily consider themselves to be a part of the “99%” of law abiding motorcyclists out there. While not every entry into the Urban Dictionary may be on par with our trusty Merriam-Webster's, the UD certainly is reflective of our societal trends and common colloquialisms. Take the word “ratchet” for example, UD says that “ratchet” is “a ghetto-dialect mispronunciation of the English term "wretched." Meanwhile, we all know that a ratchet is a tool that we use when we are wrenching on our bikes. As it were, it seems that the only thing that these two, certainly reliable sources of literary information, have in common is that for there to be a biker, there must be a bike. 

If we can all agree that a biker has to have a motorcycle, we can move on to dissecting the “REAL” part of the term. We don’t need a dictionary to tell us what real is, we all know what’s real and what isn’t, so what makes a biker real or not? Is it his clothes- does he have to wear a leather vest with patches to be real? If so, what about all those motorcycle clubs that wear denim? Would you be so bold as to walk up to a group of them and inform them that their Levi Strauss denim vests do not meet the proper “leather vest” requirements, therefore they may not refer to themselves or their counterparts as “real bikers”? Perhaps the measure is their particular state of employment? Does a person have to be employed in some kind of labor trade to be a “real” biker, or can they be a doctor, an engineer or maybe even a cop? For that matter, can a woman be a real biker? What about a homosexual? 

Maybe we are just overthinking this whole damn thing… maybe it is as simple as their motorcycle? Perhaps, as the common perception goes, the only real bikers are Harley-Davidson owners. Unless, that is the particular biker in question does not have a Harley, but rather, he has a 1945 Indian… then maybe he can be a real biker. But, wait... what about the guy that rides the vintage Triumph chopper? You know, the guy that hand built his own hardtail frame then rebuilt a Triumph pre-unit that he found in a junkyard, bolted it in, then rode the ole beast across the country? Can he be a real biker, even though he’s kicking around on an old British powered machine? What about the guy in Japan that cut, chopped and built a badass custom bike out of a 1986 Honda Goldwing? And since we are talking about Goldwings, what about the Goldwing riders that have over 300,000 miles on their bikes and have ridden their machines in all four seasons in every state (and abroad) wearing their hi-viz jackets and mustard yellow safety helmets? Are they real bikers? What about Ted Simon, you know the guy that wrote the book, Jupiter's Travels (which, if you haven't read it, I HIGHLY recommend that you do)? Ted Simon wrote that book after he spent four years riding his 500cc 1973 Triumph T100 around the world through 45 countries. Is Ted Simon a real biker? You're damned right he is.

You see, I've known a lot of people that have Harley-Davidson motorcycles who say that people who ride bikes like Suzuki GSXRs, Kawasaki Ninjas, Yamaha Stratoliners or Honda Shadows can’t be real bikers, no matter how dedicated to riding they are, simply because they don't ride American bikes. These are the same guys, by the way, that have their $25,000 Harley-Davidsons parked in the garage 10 months out of the year. You know them, they are the guys that brag about all the rallies they go to, yet their bikes see more miles riding on the back of a trailer than they do rolling on their own rubber; they're the same guys that only ride to the local bike nights whenever the weather is "Goldilocks perfect." I’ve also heard that only men can be real bikers, but I've seen some ladies rippin' the curves in the mountains and they sure as hell looked like real bikers to me. I've known a few folks that live, as the polite folks would say- an alternative lifestyle, that ride motorcycles (some of whom ride Harley-Davidsons). I know cops that are in motorcycle clubs and I've seen more than a few nurses, doctors and several engineers that ride. 

Growing up as a ginger kid, I was given plenty of labels. It certainly didn't help that I wore those auburn locks in a fantastically awful, late '80's powered mullet and wore ripped up, stone-washed jeans. In my youth, I had a few second-hand dirt bikes and I took an old Suzuki GN400X that came to our house in boxes, fumbled my way through putting it back together not knowing what the hell I was doing, and got it running. I rode that thing until my folks got rid of it one day while I was at school. All their best efforts to protect their baby boy from the dangers of two wheels was all for naught, though. I started back on a Kawasaki EX500, then I moved on to cruisers. I've had a couple of Hondas, a Yamaha and... well... a few different Harley-Davidsons. It's bizarre to see it typed out, but I've ridden over 100,000 miles of paved roads on two wheels and countless miles of dirt trails. Does that make me a real biker? Honestly, I don't know, and frankly, I don't care. Neither should you. If you want to call yourself a biker, or even the highly coveted real biker, then go for it. It's just a silly label anyway.

   

 

Not all motorcycles are Harley-Davidsons...and that's perfectly OK.

As the title, implies... this is not going to be about Harley-Davidson motorcycles. Instead, let's just say it's about motorcycles in general... and the love and passion that they inspire.

A good friend of mine acquired a motorcycle a while back from a family member. It's an old bike, not necessarily cool or trendy by today's standards and it wasn't even in good condition. It wasn't running, the tires were dry rotted and flat, the gas tank was rusty and had pinholes in it, one of the head gaskets was blown and just to add an extra level of aggravation to the mix- the carbs were off and not synchronized. I could go on, but why bother? Suffice to say that the bike, by most people's standards, would be considered ready for the scrap heap. But... not for my buddy, nope, he decided that he needed to save it.

Look, I'm pretty handy with a set of wrenches. I know enough basics to get me by, and I am definitely not afraid to take on the task of breathing life back into an old, dilapidated and neglected machine... especially a vintage motorcycle, but my advice to him was "just get a different bike, man." He ignored my advice and decided to start turning wrenches to see what would happen... and I'm so glad he did.

Now, you might have assumed that my friend is a master mechanic, maybe a custom bike builder or some kind of vintage motorcycle expert... and you'd be wrong. He's just a regular guy that goes to work every day and tries to do the best that he can do for the people that he works for. The funny thing is, he's not even a biker! He's never even really ridden a motorcycle before all of this and he sure as hell never rode this one. So, why in the hell would a guy like him, take on a task that even the most experienced of mechanics would shy away from for a bike that he has no idea about? Let's look further, shall we?

The bike in question is an 1983 Honda GL1100i, yep... an ole skool Goldwing Interstate... and his father-in-law gave it to him. The bike is from Canada and it sat in a garage, untouched for the better part of 15 years. When my buddy and his wife moved their family back to the good ole U.S. of A. from the land of maple syrup, he brought this crusty old 'Wing with him, not really even knowing what he might do with it at the time. But, after being bitten by the motorcycling bug (and maybe after receiving some, slight, pressure from yours truly), he decided to make a move on it. He looked at a few different options to bring the bike back to life, but ultimately decided to open up a service manual and start turning wrenches himself.

He's still working on it, but as ole Doc Frank N. Stein said... "that bitch is alive!"  My buddy, who could also be known as Doctor Goldwingenstein, has touched, almost, every part of this motorcycle. Gas tank- repaired, cleaned and sealed; head gaskets- replaced (twice on one... don't ask); timing belts (yeah, apparently some motorcycles need belts for timing, weird)- replaced; one head replaced and all valves lapped; carbs (all four of 'em- sheesh!) rebuilt and synchronized; ignition system- upgraded; brakes- currently being rebuilt; and- just for shits and giggles- every one of those old incandescent light bulbs from the era when John Hughes' movies were in theaters and when MTV actually played music videos (gasp!), you know, those bulbs that looked as if they were actually powered by candlelight, well, those have been replaced with modern LED units. Add to that, he's cleaned, painted, polished and tweaked some of the cosmetic stuff to give it a slightly more modern, but significantly cooler, look.

Some of you reading this may ask, why bother? At the end of the day, he still has a 1983 Goldwing that is so old that it doesn't even show up in the Blue Book or the Nada guides. You might even say, it's not worth the time and effort that he's put into it. But... and this is my favorite part of the true motorcycling culture... it's worth it to him. It has value to my buddy and his wife- in both a sentimental way and in a personal pride and achievement way. He got it running again, not some shop or some mechanic, but he did it. 

You see, that's the beauty of motorcycles and the motorcycling community as a whole. We see the beauty in things that others may not see. We understand that every bike has a story and that story just gets more interesting as it gets older. In a throw-away society, we choose to salvage these old machines, restore them, customize them and make them our own. Most people that would never even attempt to work on their own car, will turn a wrench on their bike without a second thought. It's because, in part, motorcycles are personal machines. They aren't one-size-fits-all, they are specifically fit to us. Not everybody has, or wants, the same kind of bike, the same make, model or even style. And... the really cool part, is that true motorcyclists don't care what their buddies ride, just as long as they share that common bond- the passion of riding.