The Ride and The Gift

I've been spending the last day or so in preparation for my upcoming road trip.  I'm doing my best to not "over-plan" as far as my route goes, as I want to remain as fluid as possible, only planning basic directions and rough areas I intend to be in on a given day.  I am securing all of the "things" I'll want to have with me.  Riding gear, Go-Pro Camera (this will be a new one for me, hopefully letting me capture some great images), guitar (of course), cooler and cutting board (road meals are the best meals), journal, Mad-Maps, etc.

As I plan, I can't help bet let my mind hearken back to my first real distance road trip.  24 years ago this month, my Dad rewarded me with the best High School gift a kid could ever receive, a bike trip out west with his Dad.  I'd been riding a couple years and had cut my road trip teeth on a Springfield Mile trip the autumn before on an old 4-speed, chain drive, '87 model 1100cc Sportster.  This time, I'd be getting my first big bike distance experience.  My ride would be on an '88 model FLHS Electra Glide Sport, the predecessor to the Road King.  The trip was epic, 16 states, mountains, plains, deserts....  More memories than I can count.

That trip also instilled something else in me.  The value of the written record.  I saw him doing it, but it would be years before its importance would really effect me.  My Dad kept a journal of that trip.

Nothing fancy, just a small spiral notebook of words describing things he wanted me to remember written with my Father's beautiful calligraphy-like handwriting, a style like no other I've ever seen.  He'd done this on his trip with my brother Dan back in '84 on what would have been, unbeknownst to us, Dan's last bike trip out west.  I remember the two of them reading it in later years, recalling the experiences they shared.  These moments of having the power to travel through time and reminisce.....those are what make me write.  This blog is just a little part of that, but my dogeared  journal holds mountains of past experiences, roads long since traveled, smiles and tears, and moments that I can revisit anytime I wish. And thank you Jeremy and Josh McCormick for the beautiful journal you gave me.

Basic words, capturing images of many years ago, making them come alive to me once again.  Precious few pages, with a wealth of memories.  While they may come off as a "you had to be there to know what I'm talking about", I hope you are able to see an 18 year old boy about to move away from home.  I hope you can see his dad, wondering if he's truly ready for a ride as grueling as what the American West has to offer.  I hope you can see the anticipation, wonder, and fear in both of their eyes.  I hope you can choke on the dust, and swelter in the heat.  I hope you can see the lines in the skin of wind dried and sun baked faces.   I hope you can feel the love and witness the majesty.  I hope you enjoy.

Wed June 20, 1990
     Left Memphis at 6:10 am, mileage 00030.  North to Chicago.  Rain from Cairo.  Arrived 5:00 pm.  530 miles.  Dinner with Dennis, Linda, Katie, and Scott's friend Matt.

Thurs June 21, 1990
Odometer 00560-860=300
     Got check-up on the bike.  Rode route 80.  Rain drove us in at Grinnell, Iowa.  We'll leave early in the morning.

     PS.... Don't eat the turkey at the Country Inn.

Friday June 22, 1990
Odometer 860-1269=409
     Left in rain at 8:00am, over within 60 miles but cold.  Visited SAC Museum at Omaha and my old base at Lincoln.  The base, and I, have both changed drastically.  So much for nostalgia.  We had a good time.  Spent the night at Kearney, Budget Inn.  Pizza in the room.  Tomorrow the Sand Hills and Rapid City.

Saturday June 23
Odometer 1269-1696=427
     Slept late 8:00am, beautiful day.  Up through the Sand Hills, to Valentine, Neb.  When we crossed into S Dakota, suddenly the radio had only Indian music.  Very eerie.  Only, the chanting was "Happy Birthday".  These are the people who killed Custer?  West toward Wounded Knee, ran into 14 miles of dirt and gravel.  Scott rode great.  Then through The Badlands.  Found Rattler in the middle of the road.  We each left the other alone.  Stopped for the night in Rapid City.  Holiday Inn.  Nice.

Sunday June 24th
Odometer 1696-1893=197
     Rode to Mt Rushmore, Crazy Horse, Sylvan, & now everything has happened, hail as big as marbles.  Didn't last long luckily.  Visited Deadwood, Ft Meade, Sturgis, Belle Fourche.  Motel full, stayed at Myers Motel.  Not good, but dry.

Monday June 25th
Odometer 1893-2375=482
     On the road at 7:00am, had breakfast at Broadus, Montana.  Their menu said lunch would be Chicken Gorilla. Fortunately we won't be staying.  Rode through Cheyenne and Crow Reservations en route to Custer Battlefield.  Scott rides better each day.
      Strange, when we arrived at Battlefield, there was no charge.  Then I realized it was the anniversary of the Battle.  Something brought us here on this day, we had no plan.  Strange!
     Later we rode south to Douglas, Wyo. for the night.  Long ride very windy.  Scott did fine.

Tuesday June 26th
Odometer 2375-2779=405
     Rode to Ft Laramie.  Beautiful old restored Fort.  Bought gifts for Lee.  Planned to ride to Alamosa Colo for the night but wind and Denver traffic and finally rain forced us in at Pueblo.  We donned our rain gear 10 miles from Pueblo but successfully avoided the storm.  Our luck holding, we were wet down by the sprinkler system as we were getting off the expressway.

 Wed June 27th
Odometer 2779-3379=600
     Out early with ambitious plans to ride to Monument Valley.  Over the mountains to Alamosa was beautiful.  Visited the Harley shop there.  Disappointment!  No wonder we sell bikes.  Took pictures at Continental Divide, through Durango, out on the desert.  Hottest day in history.  121 in Phoenix.  More at Monument Valley.  We rode through small "dust devil" sand storm.  Hot, had to turn back at Kayenta.  Rode through "Many Farms".  Beautiful ride.  At Chinle, we rode into a huge dust storm.  We put handkerchiefs over our noses and kept riding.  Sheep were in the street, in the middle of town.  We rode through them trying to get out of the "Dust Devil"/  My hat was ripped from my head and blown away. I mean AWAY!  When we were clear you could look back and see the entire storm.  Camera wouldn't work.  Awesome sight.  Arrived Gallup at 10:00pm, dirty, tired, pizza in the room.  No beer.  Oh yes, we visited 4 Corners and bought gifts.

Thurs June 28th
Odometer 3379-3903=524
     We're in the home stretch to get back by Sat.  Left Gallup around 8:00am, Hot.  We can only go 50 or 60 miles without stopping.  We're using more Gatorade than gas.  We wet down our shirts, packed ice in our pockets, and made it to Shamrock Tex.  Windy difficult ride.  Dangerously hot, Scott handled it well.

Friday June 29th
Odometer 3903-
     On the road at 7:30am, nice morning, much cooler.  Breakfast at Cherokee Trading Post.  I was as much Cherokee as anyone else.  Arrived Okeemah at 1:00pm.  Marie drove us to Grandpa Renfro's grave.  It is at Okfuskee in a free Cemetery given to the community by Marie's father, Bud Collins.  It is on the corner of the property where Marie was raised.  Interesting to hear her talk of him.  We only know him by the stories.  It made me feel closer.  He chewed "tobacky" as he called it, and smoked a pipe.  He was in good health until 2 years before he died.  He had "Dropsy".  
     Stayed in Russelville Ark for the night.  Our last night.  It has been a good trip.  I enjoyed his company.
     It started as a gift to him, but instead turned into a gift for me.

     Thanks!

     Dad

Pop, the trip might've turned into a gift for you, but your short notes that you took the time to lay on an empty page and then give to me years later..... well, I think the gift has become mine again.

Memories die in your brain.  Put them on paper and they'll live. 

The road truly will go on forever.

Ride Safe and with Purpose.

SMB

Because I Really Rode My Motorcycle Today

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

Ask, Care, Escort.... and RIDE!!!!

Hello friends.  I hope this post finds each of you well and that you are enjoying all that Spring has to offer.  I especially hope that you are able to be racking up some of those two wheeled miles that have proven to be elusive to me.

If you’re in search of a place to ride and a reason to do so, let me help you out.  Bear with me here for a minute as I unload on you a burden that weighs heavy on my heart. 

Since the attacks on 9-11, our country has been at war, the longest war in the history of our nation.  A war like we have never before fought, and with an all volunteer force.  We’ve all watched the 24 hour news feeds of the war on our televisions, from the streaks of green flame of the anti-aircraft batteries around Baghdad, to the earth trembling scenes of IED explosions in Kandahar.  We have seen the toppling of Saddam’s statues along with the hanging of Saddam himself.  We have celebrated the death of Osama Bin Laden and mourned the loss of our sons, daughters, fathers, mothers, brothers, and sisters in uniform.

Eleven years of war.  It has lasted so long that there are some that forget we are even still fighting.  Nearly 5,000 of our servicemen and women have paid the ultimate price on the battlefields of Iraq and Afghanistan.  Five thousand front porch visits from stone faced messengers telling a family that their loved one will not be returning.  Devastating.

Now, let’s talk about something else equally as devastating and to me, far more shocking and unacceptable.  Our military are coming home from war zones daily.  We celebrate them.  We call them heroes, and deservedly so.  They stood in the gap for us.  They laid their lives on the line for us.  They accepted as part of their daily lives, the understanding that if by chance their life was to be given for us, then so be it.  But what happens to them after the welcome home parties? 

Our military are being killed at an unacceptable rate, but not necessarily by the enemies of our country.  They are dying by their own hand, and they are doing it at an alarming rate.

 

Fact:  Our veterans are committing suicide at the rate of nearly 2 dozen per day. 

Fact: There are many specific risks that our veterans are dealing with including:

·                              Multiple deployments to hostile environments

·                              Length of deployments

·                              Exposure to extreme stress, death, and combat.

·                             Physical and sexual assault while in service (not limited just to women)

·                            Service related injuries such as Traumatic Brain Injury (TBI), Post-Traumatic 

               Stress Disorder (PTSD), and other mental health diagnoses.

Fact: When our veterans receive the needed (and available) care from a VA facility (specifically a VA Serious Mental Illness Treatment, Research, and Evaluation Center), they are three times LESS likely to commit suicide. 

Friends, this has to stop!  

In step the American Gold Star Mothers, specifically Mrs. Cindy Tatum and Mrs. Molly Morel.  The AGSM’s are an association of ladies who have lost children in military service to our country.   If you will recall, Bumpus Harley-Davidson teamed with these remarkable ladies last summer and launched "A Tour of Duty" in which we were able to raise over $25,000 to help fund the building of a Fisher House facility in Murfreesboro.  The issue of soldier suicide (as well as Marine, Sailor, and Airman…. As these Marine mom’s quickly pointed out to me) was one that weighed on them as much as me.  We began the process of researching what was needed and what could be done.  Into the picture steps Irene Trebilcock, an active duty member of the TN Army National Guard, a dedicated Harley-Davidson rider, an Iraq veteran, friend and wife of BHD sales team member and Iraq veteran Dan Trebilcock.  Irene is also the liaison for the TN National Guard for suicide prevention. 

Here’s what we learned.  There are many programs that are set up for our returning veterans to seek and receive the assistance they need.  What we do not have is AWARENESS!  The culture in which our vets exist does not always lend itself to one that encourages them to seek help.  We have to help them through that barrier. 

This need sparked “A Tour of Duty II”, a ride to end the epidemic of veteran suicide.  We are partnering with the AGSM’s to raise money to fund awareness campaigns for the programs that can and will save the life of a vet on the precipice.  We will also spread the word across the state of Tennessee of how we can break the cycle amongst the veterans that exist in our circle of family and friends. 

This Saturday, June 8 at all Bumpus HD locations, TOD2 will launch.  Here’s how it works.  Stop by any BHD location.  With your $20 registration fee, you will receive a powerful “Tour of Duty II” t-shirt emblazoned across the back with the warning signs of veteran suicide, and a passport.  The ride functions like this.  Take that passport to all other BHD locations and get a stamp.  You can ride at your own leisure whenever you have time to do so.  The ride will culminate with a final bash at BHD in Jackson on July the 20^th.  Have your completed passport in to us by that time, drop it in a bucket and one lucky rider will win a $2500 Bumpus HD card. 

The tour is every day.  You can register at any time.  If you can’t make the ride, hit every location, or don’t ride at all, no problem.  Your $20 donation will still get you a t-shirt. 

More importantly, you’ll be making a difference amongst those that offered their life for yours.  They deserve it. 

It’s all about the ACE card…

A.C.E.

ASK-     Ask a veteran if they are ok.  Do they ever think of hurting themselves.

Care-     Care for a veteran.  Remove means for self harm.  Remain calm.  Actively listen and show

              understanding.  Produce relief. 

Escort-  Escort the veteran.  Never leave them alone.  Get them to a VA facility or emergency room.  Call a suicide prevention hotline.

For more information on Tour of Duty II contact me at scott.bumpus@bumpusharleydavidson.com or

Memphis area Joe Kilpatrick at joe.kilpatrick@bumpusharleydavidson.com

Middle Tennessee Kathy Potter at kathy.potter@bumpusharleydavidson.com

Jackson area Brittany Crouse at b.crouse@bumpusharleydavidson.com

For more information on suicide prevention contact The Veterans Crisis Line at 1-800-273-8255 or www.veteranscrisisline.net

Ride safe and with purpose and I’ll see you this Saturday for the kickoff.

In My Brain... Day 3

August 30, 2012

"Lord I'm goin' up town, to the Harlem River to Drown.  Dirty water gonna cover me over, and I'm not gonna make a sound..."-- Justin Townes Earle

I've been in the Harley-Davidson business for 26 years as part of the family, and 18 years as my full time job and way that I make my living.  I've been part of the Harley-Davidson 'thing' for much longer than that.  I often talk of the "love affair" that we have with these machines and the place that they have in our life.  A relationship with Harley-Davidson goes deep below the skin and into the soul and is about so much more than just the motorcycle.  The mere mention of the name "Harley" invokes a visceral reaction amongst the believers.  We look at roads and sunsets differently.  Our thoughts are monopolized by destinations and 'bucket list' items.  We truly are brethren.  Believers, fanatical followers...

As I grew up and learned more about this 'thing' that had already possessed the souls of my brothers, I formed my own relationship to what I call 'the brand'.  When I say brand, I don't mean trademarks in the same sense that I'd describe Coke as my favorite brand of soft drink, but more so I use the term 'brand' more like I'd use the word 'phyllum' or 'species'.  Brand, like marks burned into ones skin, ones psyche.  That tangible glue that not only emblazons the fuel tanks of these spectacular machines, but also that framework in which our lifestyle and love affair lives. 

The brand which I refer to belongs to the brethren.  Harley-Davidson holds the trademarks, but the 'brand' is all of ours.  The mystique, the religion.  I feel no small responsibility as a dealer, along with the motor company as 'caretakers' of that brand.  Oh how quickly we could screw it up if we are not careful.  We have a responsibility to always remember where we came from and what got us here.  The brand is precious, and fragile, and a necessity in our lives.

We made our way up to Saukville Wisconsin to tour the facilities of Calibre, Inc, a company that does paint for replacement service parts for Harley-Davidson.  I always love to tour this place, and I have to offer a huge 'thank you' to my friend Terry Bretl for being a gracious host to my family and group.  Watching the artists and craftsmen at Calibre is such a treat.  The things we take for granted, the commitment and attention to detail that goes into the work that those people do is humbling.  I have never looked at the pin striping on a Harley-Davidson paint job the same since I had the pleasure of watching those good folks apply them by hand. 

"In the back of my mind, eatin up all my time....Hangin weightless in the sky, like an angel with no place to fly..."-- Willie Nelson

We later made our way over to Menominee Falls to tour the Pilgrim Road Harley-Davidson Powertrain Plant, the birthplace of the Harley-Davidson Engine.  The senses become overwhelmed when you step out onto the plant floor.  The drone of the machinery.  The smell of the oil.  I've taken this tour before, so I didn't spend much time listening to our able engineer telling the group what the plant does, but instead I hung back and 'observed'.  I love the upper midwest, and it's people.  I love that this factory is still in Milwaukee Wisconsin.  It couldn't be anywhere else.  The looks on the faces of the operators on the floor.  Dedicated. Blue collar, real.  Steel, lubricants, wires, drills and presses, zip zip, whiz.  Real. Tangible. Authentic. Love.  Lunch pails and Green Bay Packer calendars.  Young.  Old.  Tattoos, and ponytails.  White beards, and bald heads.  Men and women all dedicated to the product that they are producing.  Make no mistake that they know the role they play in this 'brand'.  I've blogged before about the love that these that build the machine have for them.

http://abumpontheroad.blogspot.com/2011/12/love.html

They loved her first.

I can see out my window and across the industrial canal that the field in front of the Harley-Davidson Museum is starting to fill up with bikes.  Thursday is bike night at the museum and I'll dare say, Milwaukee and the HDM host the finest bike night I've ever been to.  That element of authenticity is in the air here.  The good people that attend are here for spiritual revival.  Their soul will be lifted as they commune and fellowship with their brothers and sisters in the sacred birthplace of their passion.  Tonight also kicks off the year long celebration of the 110th Anniversary of the Harley-Davidson Motor Company, adding another level of emotion to the whole event.  I'm leaving you now to go see what it has in store.

Ride Safe, and with Purpose.

SMB