I am a Harley-Davidson Dealer.
It is my profession. It is how I pay my bills, provide shelter, feed and cloth my children, etc. The life of a Harley-Davidson Dealer is not extremely different than that of most any small business owner. I still wake up, shower, dress professionally and come to work every day. Like other businessmen, my day consists of projections, budget reporting, managing, dealing with vendors, human resource issues, bank negotiations, making sure we are compliant with the government and other legal requirements, etc. We are salespeople and marketers. We plan promotions that will help us to maximize sales opportunities. We seek better and more efficient ways of positioning ourselves and out products in the marketplace.
We do all of these things because we are businessmen.
But there is so much more.
Today is March 20, 2014. Today is the vernal equinox. Today is the first day of spring, and it couldn't come too soon. Our winter has been brutal, and seemingly unending. "First Day of Spring" rides are an essential tool in the toolbox of motorcycle dealer marketing. Today was ours. Like any dealer principal who understands the importance of "keeping the wheels spinning", I stepped up to the plate to lead today's ride. My seat was my office today, and this morning, under a brilliant sun and crisp temperature, I went to work.
That said, work stopped as soon as I hit second gear. Today, I rode my motorcycle. Really rode it.
Because I really rode my motorcycle today, I didn't just get to lead a group of customers, I got to ride with my friends.
Because I really rode my motorcycle today, I got to remove the excel, peachtree, CONNECT, Talon, HDNet and other digital pieces of the Harley business from my hands and replace it with what really matters, handlebars. Throttles and clutches instead of budgets and percentages.
Because I really rode my motorcycle today, I was able to reconnect with the reason I do what it is that I do.
Because I really rode my motorcycle today, my eyes are again opened wide to the beauty of being outside.
Because I really rode my motorcycle today, I got to spend some alone time with Him.
Because I really rode my motorcycle today, I took time to eat at a great greasy spoon restaurant that I'd never stopped at before.
Because I really rode my motorcycle today, I was able to recharge my batttery, and right my ship.
Because I really rode my motorcycle today, I was able to lose the worry and stress of responsibility and replace it with smiles, joy, and adventure.
Because I really rode my motorcycle today, I was able to let go, and just be a Harley rider, not a dealer. (Thank you Jonathan Clemmons for taking the lead for a while and allowing me to just ride and follow).
Because I really rode my motorcycle today, I'm a better man.
Thank you to my friends, old and new, that were able to join me and as well, allow me to join you today.
If you can't relate to what I'm talking about..... There is a remedy.
Never forget, you only get one shot at life on this Earth. Make it count.
Until next time...
Ride Safe and with Purpose.
SMB
Thursday, March 20, 2014
Sunday, March 2, 2014
A 20 Year Journey, Part 1.
It’s cold and dreary.
Winter storm warnings bear down on us and own the news. It’s wearing me out, this winter is. I miss green.
I miss my motorcycle. I miss the
road. But that’s not all that’s on my
mind, not by a long shot.
I’ve mentioned “another blog for another day”. Maybe today is that day. Maybe it’s time. Maybe it isn’t.
I love the emergence of spring. The first warm breezes, the feeling of the
sun against my skin. The problem is,
with the onset of spring also comes March the 3rd. I’ve been trying to outrun it for 20 years
but to no avail. It always seems to
catch me. I hate March the 3rd. My life crashed down on my head on March 3rd. I think I’ve been trying to deal with it for
the last 20 years, but if I’m truly honest with myself, I don’t think I’ve even
begun. Maybe I’ll start.
It’s been said that in one’s lifetime, we will all have that
one great friend who will stand above all others. God, I hope that’s not the case, because if
it is, mine has come and gone. I had
Eric Jones in my life for 4 short years, but they encompassed more time than I
can fathom. A lifetime of memories,
experiences, laughs, tears, dreams, miles….
Eric Jones was my playmate, my confidant, my brother, my comrade, my
wingman, my council, and the best friend I’ve ever had. He was my barometer, my compass, and my
motivator. We shared the same
backgrounds and interests. We loved the
same things. We envisioned each other’s
futures and couldn’t wait to see wait lay in store for the other.
It all ended on March 3rd, 1994 when I, his
family, our friends and the rest of the world lost Eric Jones.
I hate you, March 3rd and I’m sick of being owned
by you. It stops with this anniversary,
this 20th anniversary. No
more death, only life from here on out.
Memories of good times and good things.
Memories of great roads and blazing chili. Memories of Moosehead Beer and cheap cigars. Prime Rib and 1979 Sportsters. Crew cuts, Marine ditties, late night dad
stories, “Presidential” Halloween rides, and the big blue party bus. You were always there whenever I needed
you. Roadie, actor, mechanic, driver,
set of ears, proofreader, go between, stand in, editor, you name it.
I see you in every Marine.
I see you every time I ride Hwy 127.
I see you in bonfires and contrails.
You’re always smiling. And you’re
always young. You’ll always be
young. That’s your final joke on me, and
a good one too, asshole.
It’s time to start dealing with it. I’ve got plans on how to go about doing that
very thing. Join me on this journey, if
you wish. This is Part 1. I’ll come back to it soon enough. In the meantime, there’s a big Harley that’s
waiting to be packed up and pointed towards Redfield, South Dakota.
I’ll talk to all of you soon, in the meantime, love your
friends. They won’t always be there.
Eric Scott Jones
October 28, 1971-March 3, 1994
Remember him.
Ride Safe, and with Purpose.
SMB
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