First off, I don’t give a fuck whether you think I’m a biker or not. I may be, I may not be, based on how you view bikers. I don’t weld for a living, work in a mine or am a hand on an oil well. I’m not a 1%er, even though I have a lot of friends who are. I may not ride the bike you think a biker would ride.
Fuckit, all I know is I need to ride. It’s not a want. Straight up, it’s a need.
I’m also a father. A business owner. A husband. I’ve also made a pledge to protect abused kids, even at the sake of my life. I’ll do all four.
So last night I scoped out ballarat California and death valley as my late winter ride. Man, I want to go. I stare down the barrell of my calendar and I see the whole state of utah coming to my chapter in a few weeks for our annual 100 mile ride. I see a party in mexican hat that was my idea, for my B.A.C.A. Brothers and sisters on an idea I had last year. I see child rides, to help abused kids that I’ve sworn to be their sheild. I’ve got 120 employees who depend on me to get things done and to make the right decision. I’ve got mothers day. Not to mention, I’ve got kids who need a day to day with their old man.
But dammit, I’ve got to ride. I thought on the way home… I’ve got pressures in my life that I’ll never tell you about. Riding gives me the focus to get my rockability back. Gotta keep all the balls in the air, and at the same fucking time, I gotta be happy about chucking those balls up. I gotta live.
This weekend, my plan was to ride to California. I may or may not end up going. I might take my wife on the bike. My kids might go in the truck. Hell, I don’t know now. It’s gonna be a game time decision.
Responsibility is a bitch.
But I’m probably no different than you, am I. You balance your life and pressures and at the end of the day, you throw your leg over your bike, point it somewhere, and find your soul in some way or another. Riding is truly freedom. People that don’t ride will never truly understand.
I'm a college-educated electronic technician. I have no tattoos. I'm a Southern Baptist Christian. I don't drink or smoke. I seldom swear.
I may not be a sterotypical "biker" either.
I just like to ride.
Truer words were never spoken. Each day is a juggling act my friend. But each day, I must ride.
The desire, or what some call ‘the need” to ride motorcycles these days must have come from the seed that was planted by that 3 1/2hp minibike that my mom, dad, and sister bought me when I was 10yrs old, and blossomed into what matters most to me today. Whether on two wheels on the remote river crossing backtrails of the Kiamichi Mountains in SE Oklahoma, or on the old historic portland cement two lane highways of America, neither styles can be chosen as a favourite by me, for both have different offerings of freedom, both have blessings that the other has not, yet both have the same results of having that perfect “one with the bike” experience, whether it be open road or open trails.
I’ve always noticed different views and opinions of what a biker is by both folks who do have a motorcycle and by those who don’t. Many times as noted, either a particular motorcycle brand or outward appearance frequently comes into play. That makes no sense at all and that type of loose jaw thinking will never have the right to ever make sense.
As for me, I am a Rider. Nothing more and nothing less and it makes no difference at all of what folks think. After all, why should it? As long as I have that desire and need in my heart, until the day the Lord comes to get me, I will ride anywhere and I will ride anytime. For me, riding a motorhorse is not a choice and it never was since I was 10yrs old. It is a way of life.
Nothing more. Nothing less.
the landrunner