A Friday.

Seems like a lot of biker shit is going on, but none of it involves riding.    Thats gotta get changed

My bike hasn’t started since I moved.   Like, it won’t start.    I hauled it down to blackball motorcycle and its more than likely a crank position sensor and I should be able to get it in the morning.    I need to ride it.    its the heat of the summer, but I know how that clock ticks.      Between the moving and work, its been too long.   I need to ride.

I talked to the new EagleRider tour guide for the Easy Rider tour today.    I met him in Los Angeles when I was there.   A good dude.    I really wish I could do the rest of those tours.     That was the most fun I’ve had in a long time, doing what I was born to do.   At least I think so.

I’ve moved from Heber, to the town I was born in.   Thats been my last 2 weeks.   Orem Utah.    That also means a transfer to a new BACA chapter.      To be honest, I’ll miss Wasatch County, Heber and my old chapter.     It’ll always be the place I got my rockability back.     Good and Solid people up there, just 22 miles up the canyon.

Last night Myself, Missus Zip and my youngest daughter went to a BBQ, and met my new chapter.    I like these guys.   BACA was started here, and the founder is here, and 2 other people that were there on the original ride, 18 years ago.     I got a few stories, and I’m looking forward to more.    We ate some food, drank a little, and lit off some seriously good fireworks.   I laughed and listened.   There is some experience here.

I am a member of Bikers Against Child Abuse.    All the fun, all the brotherhood, all the riding means absolutely jack shit compared to a scared kid.    I’ve camped outside a 6 year old boys house for 3 days, because his abuser threatened to kill him.    It was his father.      He trusted me enough in the end, to show me the bruise where his dad stomped on him.    Shape of a footprint.      It changed my life, and fueled my fire.      I had a beautiful 16 year old teenage girl’s dad meet with me and a BACA brother in a driveway with his face in his hands, crying and thanking us, because his daughter finally slept through the night.      His daughter told me she had learned to sleep with her back against the door so she’d be awake when her perpetrator raped her.    She’d learned that, and found it was less painful to be awake when waking up getting raped.

Yeah, that sucks.    Sorry for jolting you out of a perfectly good friday night, but that’s the world we live in.     If I can stop any of that, I’m proud to be in that trench.     You can stop reading any time you want to, but an abused kid can’t stop it that easy.

To a kid:   My friends are scarier than your abuser.    You won’t knock us down.  If you come for a BACA kid,  odds are you won’t walk away.     Leave our kids alone.




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