Some thoughts this Christmas

I've almost been a little embarrassed about coming back over here to blogville, where I first met you through this medium a little over a year ago.  I've neglected this thing so much over the last couple months as life happened that I really didn't know if it was too late to even come back.  But alas, the nostalgia of Christmas has overtaken me and I thought I would return to pen a few thoughts that have been floating through this old brain of mine.

 "A Christmas Story" is on the tube, as my bride finishes her thankless job of wrapping the very gifts that will soon be under the tree, the fruits of her labors soon torn and scattered.  My sweet Princess is home for the holiday and here I sit in my chair, a nice glass of upscale red as my treat for the day.  I'm a sucker for Christmas and all the trappings.  I almost can see myself in one of those old Norman Rockwellian paintings, though I doubt Norman would have wanted me as a subject.  It's the romantic in me, I guess.  I love the lights, the twinkles and smells and the memories they spark in my synapses.  I think back on Christmases of my past, as I was a kid.  Thoughts of paper tearing destruction... Thoughts of my own children, watching them grow against the backdrop of the holiday.

I think back on this year, and what a roller coaster ride it was.  I checked myself against my resolutions that I made this time last year.  See Resolutions


Here's a quick scorecard:

     1.  I will ride at least 8,000 miles this year:  Status... SUCCESS!! Due to some determination, and fortunate scheduling, I was able to rack up 9,985 miles this year, many on my beloved Old Red Sled... Ah, a tear is still shed from time to time for the old girl... See "The Secret to a Happy Ending"

     2.  Unless absolutely necessary, while on a motorcycle road trip, my bike will not lead me to "chain restaurants".  Status.... SUCCESS!!  Although, it's somewhat of a cop out by saying "Unless absolutely necessary" I can honestly say that I was able to stand by this tenet of road tripping the vast majority of the time.

     3.  Continue to remind myself that interstates have no soul and only serve one purpose to the traveling motorcyclist.  Status..... Eh.... I tried, God knows I tried, but there were a few trips that time constraints made me sell my soul to the 4 laned Satan...

     4.  See three different mountain ranges.  Status.... Eh, partial success.  I did get to burn a good bit of gasoline in the Smoky's this summer and was able to ride through the Ozark range, but the Rockies alluded me another year...

     5.  See an old friend.  Status.... Fail.  While I did get the chance to do a lot of visiting this year of great places and friends, that's not what I was getting at with this goal.  "He" is the subject of another ride and another blog on another day.  I'll make it up there before long, Buddy.  Mark my words.

     6.  Take my kids riding with me more than I did last year.  Status... SUCCESS!!!  Got another epic trip with one of my fabulous young'uns.  I'll never forget it, Princess.  See A Birthday Present for Me .

    
     7.  Make a difference.  Status.... Well, the jury still may be out on that one, but I was part of some pretty awesome things for some pretty deserving people.  See Doing Something For Dalton and A Tour of Duty

     8.  I'll enjoy the sheer beauty of cheese and cracker lunches on the side of the road at every opportunity.  Status..... Monster SUCCESS!!!  Thanks again to Tom Bumpus, the roadside chef of the century.

Tonight, I spend Christmas Eve with half of my family.  The boys will be home in the morning, but I'm healthy.  My home is warm.  We are all intact and safe.  My thoughts are with others tonight.  Tonight, two families that I love are remembering their sons, who are not celebrating Christmas with their families.  Others are with loved ones in hospitals.  Still more sit alone tonight.  Keep them in your prayers.  Friends, be thankful for what you have and never take it for granted. 

Tonight, I am thankful for the memories of this past year, and I'm thankful for the adventure that the future brings.  I'm thankful for you, my dear reader, and the people who have graced the doors at Bumpus Harley-Davidson.  You humble me and I am truly grateful for each of you.  I'm thankful for each and every one of my team at BHD.  Ladies and Gentlemen, you are a blessing.  I'm thankful for my parents, and my brothers.  I am thankful for my wife and my beautiful children. 

And tonight, I'm thankful for the Baby, born of a virgin... a firstborn son, wrapped in swaddling clothes, and laid in a manger; because there was no room for them in the inn....

Next year, may we all strive to "make room in the inn" for someone.

Merry Christmas and as always, Ride Safe, and with purpose.

SMB

For Alex

New frontiers, new journeys, new experiences, and new memories to be made.  These thoughts race through my head today as I sit in this quiet hotel room.  

Today, something happens for the first time in my family in probably 70 years.  A Bumpus changes their name.  Today, my beautiful Niece Alexandria Michelle Bumpus will become Mrs. Joshua Ryan McDonald.   

 I have to take pause as I read that back to myself… That strikingly pretty little girl, ponytail tied on top of her head, couldn’t help but dance every time she heard the slightest cadence of rhythm, eyes that would strike holes through steel with her inquisitiveness, becomes a bride. And then a wife.  And then a mother for young Mason.

To my brother Tom and sister-in-law Angie, all I can say is “well done”.  You have brought Alex to this point.  You have crafted her and guided her into the thoughtful loving woman that shall stand before us in white here in a few hours.  Your nights of lying awake and worrying about her future and what life held for her have paid off. The example you have set for her has had the desired result and that is a spiritual, hard working, happy young woman, whom has grabbed the world by the horns, settled for nothing, fallen deeply head over heels in love and is prepared for this next phase of life.  Rest in the comfort of knowing that your little girl may be grown, but is not gone.  She still is yours and will be forever.

To my soon to be nephew, Josh… Congratulations and welcome to our family.  We are proud to have you.  We know that you love Alex and in turn, we see the love that she has for you.  Thank you for being the man you are.  Continue to be that loving father to Mason and husband to Alex as you set out on life's journey together.  Love her through all of the rocky paths you may take.  Love her through all of the struggles that will surely lie before you, as they do all couples.  Love her through all of the smiles and tears, the laughter and sorrows, the triumphs and tragedies.  We love you and couldn’t imagine a finer addition to our lives.

My sweet radiant Alex.  I have never been more proud of a young woman and the life that she has made for herself.  I love who you are.  I love who you have become, and I can’t wait to see what life holds for you.  You make me smile.  There are no words of wisdom that I can give you that you probably have not already heard but just know, you have an uncle a hundred and a half miles down the road that will drop everything in a second to help you or to be a kind word of guidance whenever the need arises.  Be thankful for your parents and the way that they have raised you.  Hang on to those memories of breakfasts with your daddy.  Airline peanuts at the end of a trip.  The proud smiles of a mother as you trotted to the highest prizes in the land.  More words later for just you and I.

Thank you for the memories that we were able to make on our motorcycle trip a couple months back and here’s too many many more of the same.  Your Uncle “Too-it” will always love you.

What a happy happy day.

Everyone reading, at 4PM on October 6^th, 2012, raise a glass and lift a toast to Mr. and Mrs. Josh McDonald and wish them all the best in the world.  I love them both.

Ride Safe and with Purpose.

In My Brain... Epilogue

September 3...

"It's knowing that your door is always open and your path is free to walk, that makes me tend to leave my sleeping bag rolled up and stashed behind your couch..."--Glenn Campbell

Home.  The bike is emptied and it now sits silently in the garage, its first time indoors in a week.  Bags dumped out on the bedroom floor, laundry sorted.  My ears still buzzing in the quiet of my living room, echoing the wind and dull cadence of the exhaust.  The mixture of emotions and exhaustion.  Tired and glad to be home and a bit of depression that it is done. 

The hurricane that we'd expected to escort us the better part of the way from Milwaukee to Springfield never really materialized to the extent that was forecasted.  Other than some gusts of wind and about 30 miles of moderate rain, the day was uneventful.  The Labor Day weekend in Springfield has always been one of the major cornerstone events in my motorcycling life as far back as I can remember.  This is the home of the Springfield Mile, the greatest even in motorcycle dirt track racing, and in all of motorsports if you ask me.  Growing up, I was 'that' kid.  I didn't have the Walter Payton or Ryne Sandberg posters adorning my walls, like most of my childhood friends, but rather, my heroes in the world of sport were the larger than life characters that risked life and limb battling it out in the black clay corners of the Mile, and other tracks across the US.  Names like Ricky Graham, Jay Springsteen, and Steve Moorehead.  I spent scores of Labor Day Sundays in the stands cheering for the likes of Randy Goss, Bubba Shobert, and the greatest dirt tracker of all time, Scott Parker.  I shed tears at the loss of greats like Ted Boody and Davey Camlin.  Gladiators who fearlessly gave it all they had as they locked the throttles of their XR's wide open down the straights, drafting tightly into the corners and then dropping that left foot into the dirt and slinging it sideways. They did it not for the money, but for the love of the sport that is so intertwined in the history of motorcycling. 

Getting to Springfield to find out that the rain that Isaac had delivered in previous days was more than the track could shed was a disappointment.  Race postponed for two weeks.  Damn.  I can count on one hand the number of Miles that I've missed since I was a kid.  Oh well.

The change of plans did offer me an opportunity that is rare for me lately.  Angie and I quickly shifted our plans and cut out by ourselves and hit the road.  Now, let me explain.  Part of what I do as a motorcycle dealer is facilitate opportunities for my customers to get out and enjoy their bikes.  That was the sole purpose of this trip to Milwaukee to begin with, but I jumped at the chance to ride with no one else but her.  One bike, our schedule, our speed. 

"A gypsy wind is blowing warm tonight.  The sky is starlit and the time is right...."-- Bob Seger

Together we rode south.  It was a game we played as we dodged the circular spinning skies of the dying hurricane as it coughed its final breaths.  A dance.  A chess match with the clouds.  Speed up here, slow down there.  Change the route, stay southbound, now turn east as soon as we can.  Every now and then the rain would catch us and we'd tuck in and hammer through it, bike wet, smiles wide.  More often than not though, we were able to avoid the weather.  The road was ours.

We made our way to Carterville Illinois and spent the night with our friends Shad and Dana Zimbro.  Shad is a fellow Harley dealer and also my 'brother'. 

Proverbs 27:17 "As iron sharpens iron, so one man sharpens another"... 

Thank you Shad and Dana for a great night.  You are excellent hosts and the precious few times we all get to be together are always wonderful.  Thank you for the laughs and the tears and the different sets of eyes and ears for each of us to bounce our thoughts off of.

As we made our way home, I took the chance at riding old Hwy 51 through southern Illinois.  Old 51 is a dinosaur, a quiet, tree-lined ghost town all of its own as it snakes through the valleys of the Cache river before it dumps off in Cairo.  You see, if you follow 51 on a map, you'll be on I-57 from Anna all the way to Cairo, as someone with more pull than me felt that would be a more efficient way of moving cars from one place or another.  One interstate with two names.  To find and follow old 51, you almost have to imagine where the road used to go in order to find it.  I marvelled at the old foundations that dot the landscape as we passed down the old blacktop.  What were these places?  Old filling stations now used as storage sheds.  Abandoned motels, with their broken neon signs still standing.  Cafes who'd coffee is long since gone cold.  "Tired" little towns like Mounds Illinois, whom most people will never see, as they roar down I-57, scanning the passing billboards, none of which making any mention of the wonderful nearly extinct world that used to exist on the old two-lane that served its purpose so well.  The soul of America lives on two-laned highways.  Find them.

And then the road ended at my driveway.  Showered, and fed and ready to get back to the world tomorrow.  Thank you to the new friends I made on this journey and to the others that I got to know even better.  Thanks to my family and bride for joining my and allowing me to be a part of their journey as well.  And thanks be to God for getting me home safely and for another trip to catalog away in my files for my memory to peruse and relive after I've taken my last ride.

"I believe I'm gonna count my blessings..."--Ray Wylie Hubbard

And thanks to my iPod for serving up a damn good soundtrack.

Ride Safe and with purpose.

Scott

In My Brain... Day 4 and a trip back to remind me why....

August 31, 2012

One of my favorite places in the world is the Harley-Davidson Museum.  Got to spend the day there today and though I've visited a dozen times, it really never gets old.  A quote from the HD Museum website... "For true believers, the Harley-Davidson Museum® is not just a museum. It’s sacred ground. Gather the tribe. Make the pilgrimage." It would be hard for me to conjure truer words than these.  It is the affirmation of all those things that make the Harley Enthusiast who we are.

It speaks truths to us and weaves us into the fabric of the historical tapestry that is the Harley-Davidson experience.  The exhibits allow you to immerse yourself into them and go on an emotional journey back through time.  I draw parallels between my personal experiences on a Harley with those pioneers who came before me.  I communed today with "Hap" Scherer, the legendary Harley-Davidson "Endurance" rider who, along with his 1919 model Harley Sport Twin set an Endurance record riding from New York to Los Angeles in a blistering 77 hours and 53 minutes.  Hap wrote many an article for "The Enthusiast", Harley-Davidson's long running marketing and lifestyle magazine.  From a 1920 article...

                             "While touring from coast to coast last year, I many times covered
                              300 miles in a day, not because I had a limited amount of time in
                              which to reach my destination, but simply out of pure joy from roll-
                              ing over the broad open country..." Hap Scherer

Right on, my brother and poet.  Right on. 

I spent a little time with Ms Vivian Bales, the trailblazing brunette beauty from Albany Georgia, whom, though barely in her 20's and in a world that hardly welcomed her and told her she couldn't do it, rode her Harley from her home town of Albany straight up to the Harley-Davidson Headquarters in Milwaukee.

                             "It makes me so mad to hear folks saying that a motorcycle is dangerous
                              and especially that no girl should ride one.  I always wanted to so some-
                              thing that most girls wouldn't do, and my motorcycle gave me the chance
                              to satisfy my adventurous spirit"--Vivian Bales, 1929

My kind of girl. 

Satisfy your adventurous spirit.  Are you satisfying yours?  Joe Petrali, Effie Hotchkiss, Fred Pavlich.... These and so many more names now live not only in the walls of this monumental place but also pulse through the veins of us that continue that search for excitement and adventure.

Harley-Davidson began celebrating its 110th year during our Milwaukee stay.  We are fortunate to have places like the HD Museum to help us on that journey back in time to reclaim our roots and recharge our love affairs for these machines.  We are fortunate that the founders of the Motor Company, Mr Harley and the three Davidson brothers, knew they had something special and had the vision to preserve their heritage and the machines that they were building for us to use as a bridge over the span of time.  How fortunate are we to have people at the museum like Tom Platz , a former HD Executive, and now a tour guide and restoration expert for the Museum.  Tom is a walking exhibit himself, not just reciting what you could read on your own but also telling you the story behind the story.  Just as every enthusiast is an individual with their own stories to tell, so to is every motorcycle an individual, be it one that sits upon a rack up in the archives, in the hall of motorcycles in the museum, or in your garage.  Be like Tom and learn those stories and tell them again and again.  Not only has Tom learned the stories, it is fascinating to hear him tell of his role in those stories.  Thank you Tom, you're a legend.

Hearing the epic story of the perilous years of Harley-Davidson as they fought to stay alive through the early 1980's and their triumphs over the bankers that had every intention of killing them and their love of the brand is always a thrill for me.  What a debt of gratitude we all owe to that buyback team for without them, this brand we love and these motorcycles we are passionate about would be no more.  Hearing Willie G Davidson's voice as he recalls those days when Harley was literally hours from bankruptcy before getting that last minute news that they would have the financial ability to continue their struggle and listening to my old friend and Harley-Davidson CEO Rich Teerlink tell of the group jumping and throwing papers in the air as they were given another chance, one that merely months later would result in HD trading publicly on Wall Street.  What a story of success and perseverance.

And what else of Willie G Davidson.  Our living legend.  Our Iconic brand in flesh and blood.  The mouth piece of all we feel and love about our sport, our lifestyle.  The holder of the bar and shield.  The connection to our roots and the Merlin of our magic.  The man who was able to take a few minutes of his day and stop by our table as we dined, for no other purpose other than to welcome our group to Milwaukee and to thank us for our loyalty to the motorcycle that his grandfather founded and who's tank is emblazoned with his name. 

Are you kidding me, Willie G?  Thank me? No.  No sir.  Thank you.  Thank you for never straying from what makes us special.  For never taking for granted that which binds us all together, emotionally and spiritually.  Thank you for always taking time to let your fans and, I dare say 'followers', know that "YOU ride with us".  I love you, Willie G, and I love this brand.

Tonight, I'll repack my bag and tomorrow, I'll load it all back on my machine.  I'll bid farewell to Milwuakee until I return for the 110th Anniversary celebration and then I'll point it south and ride into whatever the remnants of Hurricane Isaac can throw at me, but I have to qualms about it, because I'll be riding with Hap Scherer, Vivian Bales, Joe Petrali, Effie Hotchkiss, Fred Pavlich, Click Baldwin, Gregg Waynick, William Harley, Arthur, Walter, and William Davidson, Dot Robinson, Eric Jones, and Wille G....

And a million of others that I never was able to meet but that I know as my brothers and sisters.

Thank you again Willie.  My love affair is again renewed.

Ride Safe and with Purpose,

Scott Michael Bumpus

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

In My Brain... Day 2

Part II, Day II

10:45 AM  Starved Rock State Park, Northern Illinois

"Darkness at the break of noon
Shadows even the silver spoon
The handmade blade, the child’s balloon
Eclipses both the sun and moon
To understand you know too soon
There is no sense in trying

Pointed threats, they bluff with scorn
Suicide remarks are torn
From the fool’s gold mouthpiece the hollow horn
Plays wasted words, proves to warn
That he not busy being born is busy dying

Temptation’s page flies out the door
You follow, find yourself at war
Watch waterfalls of pity roar
You feel to moan but unlike before
You discover that you’d just be one more
Person crying

So don’t fear if you hear
A foreign sound to your ear
It’s alright, Ma, I’m only sighing"--- Bob Dylan

So glad this one showed its beautiful face on the playlist today as we clipped north. I love this one.  I was first introduced to it through the soundtrack to the movie "Easy Rider".  Try to find me a biker that has no kinship to that movie... yeah, good luck.  Today's ride so far has taken us along the banks of the Illinois River, again totally reminiscent in this romanticised imagination of mine of that seminal movie. 

"As some warn victory, some downfall
Private reasons great or small
Can be seen in the eyes of those that call
To make all that should be killed to crawl
While others say don’t hate nothing at all
Except hatred"

There's a great scene in the movie that occurs right after the riders are "encouraged" to leave the small Louisiana cafe where they had stopped to dine.  They end up setting up their camp along side the road (another lost art) and are pontificating with a bottle of cheap bourbon and a joint by an open campfire.  George, Jack Nicholson's character is in  discussion with Billy, played by the great Dennis Hopper...Check it out....

<iframe width="420" height="315" src="http://www.youtube.com/embed/YyaUtnWr8Gw" frameborder="0" allowfullscreen></iframe>

Times have changed since those days, but how much really?  Let's talk about freedom.  All of us do.  They spout about it to us on the TV, especially during election time, about what it means.  Who really knows what it means.  How many of us are truly free?  Free to make our own decisions.  Free to chart our own course, to do with our lives what we wish.  I worry about the definitions of freedom that my children might espouse.  Do they know what it means to truly be free?  Do I for that matter.....

Evening.....

Made it to Milwaukee.  What a city.  What a feeling for those of us that love these motorcycles.  More on that love in days to come.  But what a ride to get here....

"For them that must obey authority
That they do not respect in any degree
Who despise their jobs, their destinies
Speak jealously of them that are free
Cultivate their flowers to be
Nothing more than something they invest in

While some on principles baptized
To strict party platform ties
Social clubs in drag disguise
Outsiders they can freely criticize
Tell nothing except who to idolize
And then say God bless him

While one who sings with his tongue on fire
Gargles in the rat race choir
Bent out of shape from society’s pliers
Cares not to come up any higher
But rather get you down in the hole
That he’s in"-- Bob Dylan

Thinking back, as we rode, on the trek of Captain America, Billy and football helmeted George as they made their way to Mardi Gras... As I said, times are different.  Our society does at least a bit seem more tolerant of the fringe of culture (which all of us who ride motorcycles either live, or deep inside, aspire to live) but there is still that distrust of the "mainstream"... The cager, the non-rider. We see him in his car as we pass him, or as he tails us just a little too close for comfort.  We see the look in his eyes.  Often I wonder what lives in that look... Is it jealousy? Jealousy that he is wrapped in his world of structure that wouldn't let him dream of a life with a little danger, a little adventure.  Perhaps it's fear.  Perhaps it's apathy.  Envy. 

I'm not talking of every driver.  Often I can spot a motorcyclist as he drives his car.  He has that look of longing, wishing he or she were with us.  There is an aura of respect and love that radiates... an extra couple feet of room off the bumper.... a wave, perhaps.

I'm talking about the guy who seems not just like he's not paying attention to the fact that we have a right to the road as well, but the one that seems to be out to get us.  Maybe this is why motorcyclists wave at each other as we pass... we get each other.

"And if my thought-dreams could be seen
They’d probably put my head in a guillotine
But it’s alright, Ma, it’s life, and life only"--Bob Dylan

Safe and sound at the Iron Horse Hotel, my favorite hotel anywhere.  It was good seeing my friend, Steve Piehl.  Steve has worked for Harley longer than about anyone else I know.  That's comforting to know that there are folks with Steve's history still at the helm of the ship.  I am a lover of the machine and the brand.  I don't take it for granted and neither do people like Steve.  Thanks brother, and let me express the thanks of others that strive for an authentic experience. 

Time to call it a day.  Great ride.  More adventure tomorrow.

By the way, I 'd have a hard time thinking of a better song to blare while riding than "Honey Bee" by Lucinda Williams.  Try it and I dare ya not to speed up and weave just a little.  Just a side note.

Ride Safe and with Purpose...

SMB

In My Brain (As I Ride)

Preface

There is a magic about road trips, one that is difficult to describe to those who have never travelled by motorcycle.  There is a strange separation from consciousness that occurs when your senses are overridden by the sound of the motor and wind across your ears.  The next few posts are snippets, same day when possible, of what happens in my world when covering miles the way God intended.  By motorcycle.

August 28, 2012

10:30 AM

“You will miss sunrise, if you close your eyes.  And that would break my heart in two….”—Townes Van Zandt

On the road at an abandoned gas station just north of Fulton KY and listening for that drone of engines that tells me that the group is approaching.  This place brings back so many memories for me.  As I said, it’s a filling station from yesteryear that has obviously been bought by someone with the same desire for authenticity as I.  He has renovated it into a sort of adult toy box.  I’ve stopped in this gravel parking lot what seems like hundreds of times.  I’m literally just across the border from Tennessee and this is the spot where we used to stop to remove our helmets before the trek north into Kentucky and Illinois, back in the days when I would ride lidless.  Memories of my old friend Blake, and his friendship that he forged with a stray basset hound that once hung around the place.  Tips of a nasty plastic bottle of Kentucky Tavern before our foray with old pals. 

This trip finds me riding back to Milwaukee with the Memphis MVP group.  For a Harley rider, the trek to Milwaukee really never gets old and the MVP Old Milwaukee trip caries a feeling all of its own.  I’m looking forward to experiencing it all again with this new group of folks that, at this point, really don’t know what lies ahead of them.  I had breakfast in Medina this morning with Angie and Haiden before she headed back to school.  I was fortunate to have the rare opportunity to close my mouth and open my ears and a good lesson was learned.  Parents, stop trying to constantly ‘fix’ your children and learn to listen to them .  Good advice Princess, thank you.

The drone approaches…

12:30 PM

Great feature of the bike I’m riding, the iPod interface.  I can plug my iPod into a harness in the saddlebag and control it through the regular controls on the handlebars.  I find that  the correct playlist is an irreplaceable ally on a trip by bike.  My own personal soundtrack and it has not let me down today.  It sings to me, it is my companion and drives my thoughts as the miles pass. 

“I’m gonna live forever.  I’m gonna cross that river.  I’m gonna catch tomorrow now.”—Billy Joe Shaver

Stopped for ‘dinner’ (Hold on to Southern colloquialisms for they are dying) at The Blue Boar between Jonesboro and Cobden Illinois.  It is an out of the way place that I found with the recommendation of my friend and great American character, Shad Zimbro.  Shad is one of my mentors in the Harley-Davidson business.

Anyway… Many places are referred to as ‘biker friendly’ and you can assign any definition to that which you wish, but in my book, it is the pinnacle of ‘biker friendly’.  Not that it’s a “biker bar” or anything like that.  It doesn’t have the finest amenities for motorcycle parking, unless you are the type that digs gravel parking lots, but where it shines is in its character and personality.  I’ve talked so many times about ‘character’ and ‘characters’ and their importance in life.  NEVER EVER BLEND IN and the Blue Boar doesn’t.  It is a diamond in the rough.  In a world of cookie cutter eateries with the same old worn out menu, the Blue Boar is built upon incredible hospitality, inviting atmosphere, beautiful scenery, and great food.  If ever in Southern Illinois, don’t miss it.

We continue to make our way north through Illinois.  These are familiar roads to me.  Highway 127 north from Jonesboro toward Murphysboro.  How many times have I ridden this road through my youth.  As many of you know, I attended college at the nearby Southern Illinois University at Carbondale and this was one of my getaway routes on the old FXR that I spent many ‘formative miles’ on.  One of the great things about this road is that it literally hasn’t changed in 20 years.  Nothing about it has.  The scenery is exactly the same.  Who is intrigued by time travel?  Who isn’t?  Well, I tell you what… Today was a trip back in time.  Today as I careened my machine through the twisty curves I was 20 years old again, taking a quick break from the guts of the WSIU-TV edit suite that I spent countless hours of my life. 

“Look out here she comes, she’s comin… Look out there she goes, she’s gone….”—Guy Clark

That lyric, that was us.  My best friend, Eric Jones and I as we carved out our place in the world, just as we carved the corners of that magical road. 

Death took Eric from me right before we graduated, but today he was there with me again…. Smiling face, flat top haircut, ’79 model worn out, piece of shit, smoke billowing, oil spraying, Harley-Davidson Sportster riding gem of my youth.

“The Ghost has got me runnin…”-Whiskeytown

More on him some other day, some other blog.

Springfield Illinois tonight and tomorrow on to Milwaukee.  Good Night.

Ride safe, and with purpose.

A Birthday Present for Me.

Through my ramblings or by coming into the store or even some other connection of family or friendship you have with me, I'd suspect you've come to know a bit about the person I refer to as "My Princess."

http://abumpontheroad.blogspot.com/2012/05/letter-to-princess.html

Today she turns 18 years old.  A childhood finished and a life as an adult emerges.  I remember turning 18.  It didn't seem like much of a big deal to me then, in fact, the only thing I distinctly remember doing was registering for the draft.  So much for that.  I told her earlier today that really the only thing that would really be different today as compared to yesterday is that she could go to jail.... What a motivational speech that was, but anyway.

Our days of having Haiden at home are fast whittling down.  In less than two weeks she'll be gone, off to school and whatever else lies ahead, leaving me here with two boys that don't yet know how much they are going to miss her and her mother, whom I'm fairly sure I'll have to put on medication.  She'll be moving up to Murfreesboro to attend college (on a full academic scholarship, I might add) and will be working for my brother up at BHD in the Boro.  I'm so excited for her but I dread the silence from that first room up the stairs on the left and that empty hole in my heart that she still fills every day with her sweet kisses upon my cheek.

But..... This week, I have a treat coming to me. 

When I graduated from High School, the greatest gift I received from my Dad was the opportunity to accompany him on a motorcycle road trip.  We covered about 4000 miles together over the course of a week or so traversing the Rocky Mountains and the Great American Plains.  To call it a trip I'll never forget is an understatement.  It was one of the formative periods of my life, one that I don't go more than a day or two thinking about. 

My treat this week is that the Princess and I will be setting out on a motorcycle adventure of our own.  I'm so excited about it I can hardly contain it.  I try to read her thoughts on it to see a glimpse of that excitement, but I remember being in her place. This is new to her and as I remember myself, I didn't have any idea the magnitude of what lay before me.  I just hope that I can make next week as memorable for her as it undoubtedly will be for me.  Just like my Dad did.

Your prayers and well wishes will be greatly appreciated as we strike out Monday Morning.  Those who plan to to the passport ride to Lynchburg and Murfreesboro will be accompanying us on that first leg.

Happy Birthday Princess, and thank you in advance for this wonderful gift to me.

I'll keep y'all posted as the opportunity presents itself.

Ride Safe, and with Purpose.

SMB

A Tour of Duty

I never try to sell you anything on this blog, and only marginally do I even discuss the dealership and it's activities here, but I wanted to make everyone aware of something special that we have going on. 

Not a day goes by at the store that we are not approached by someone asking for our help, sponsorship, participation, and donations for a myriad of charitable events.  Everything from ball team fundraisers to benefits to help someone offset expenses for something and everything in between.  It goes without saying that I operate a retail motorcycle dealership and not a charitable foundation, but we are blessed with the type of business that lends itself to helping with these kinds of things.  We cater to a very charitable segment of society, motorcyclists.  We hold events of all different sorts.  While it is not our sole mission to function as philantropists, we are able to help from time to time and accomplish all of our mutual goals, to be successful in our actual business as well as be able to lend a helping hand and give back to our society.  We are not always able to help with every request as they are so numerous that we simply can't, but from time to time, an opportunity to truly make a difference comes along.  Enter into this picture Mrs Molly Morel and Mrs Cindy Tatum.

I've known these ladies for quite some time as customers of the store.  I am also familiar with their backgrounds and the organization to which they belong.  They are both members of a group called the American Gold Star Mothers.  www.goldstarmoms.com Go check out the website and it will tell you all about the organization, but in a nutshell, they are all mothers that have lost children in the military while serving in active duty.  The name referrences the service flags that began seeing use during the second world war.  Families that had loved ones serving overseas would hang a flag in the window of their home with a blue star, one star for each member of the family that was in uniform.  If a family member happened to lose their life in defense of the country, that blue star would be changed to gold, hence, "Gold Star Mothers".

Anyway.... Molly and Cindy came and saw Tommy and I back around the first of the year with an idea.  They told us that their AGSM chapter was working on a fundraiser that perhaps we could help them with.  They told us about the Fisher House.  www.tennesseefisherhouse.org Fisher House provides free or low cost lodging to Veterans and military families while they receive treatment at military hospitals.  They are very similar in a way to the Ronald McDonald houses that operate in conjunction with Childrens hospitals around the country, a charity that has directly benefited me when dealing with my son's medical conditions.  57 Fisher Houses currently serve our wounded military men and women and their families, though we learned that there was not a Fisher House in Tennessee.  Well, this is where Molly and Cindy "teed up the ball".  The AGSM were helping to raise money to build one in Murfreesboro, to work in conjunction with the VA hospital.  Tommy and I looked at each other and the light bulbs started popping.

What has come out of these discussions is being called "A Tour of Duty", a Passport Ride benefitting the Fisher House. 

Our slogan for this event is "They did their part, now let's do ours".  Here's how the whole thing works.  A passport ride is like a huge poker run, but you'll have about 6 weeks to complete it.  Starting on Saturday, June 30, you can go to any Bumpus H-D location and sign up for the ride.  All it costs to register and participate is $25.  When you register, you will recieve a "Tour of Duty" T-shirt and passport. You can then get the passport stamped.  Then, hop on your bike (or car, we don't care, we just want your participation) as time permits and make your way to all 4 other Bumpus H-D locations (Collierville, Memphis, Jackson, Murfreesboro, and Lynchburg) and fill the book up with all five stamps.  Do all this and get the passport back to us at Bumpus H-D of Murfreesboro by August 18th.  This is when we will have the final culmination of the event.  All full passports will be placed into a bucket and one luck winner of a $2,500 Bumpus H-D Gift Certificate will be drawn.  You need not be present to win, though you'll probably want to be there for the party.  Like I said, $25 per participant is CHEAP!  You get a t-shirt worth the $25 anyway, but also get a chance to win the gift card, but MOST IMPORTANTLY you'll be helping to build this home for these people whom we can never fully repay.  EVERY DIME of your $25 goes to the Fisher House.  We are NOT paying for the t-shirt, passports, or gift card out of this money.  That's all on us, its your duty to come and support the mission.

A Tour of Duty.  Kicking off this Saturday.  C'mon out.  I'll be on the grill flipping half-ass hotdogs again and yep, my little bucket will be hanging on the tent pole and every donation dollar I collect for free hot-dogs will go to support the Tour.  Join me in doing "Our Part" because they sure as hell did theirs.  PS, Mrs Cindy Tatum will be on hand in Jackson signing everyone up.  Be sure to stop in and thank her for "her service" as well.

Call us at the store for any additional info at 731-422-5508 or check us out on Facebook or www.bumpushdjackson.com

Thanks and as always, Ride Safe and with purpose.

Scott

The Secret to a Happy Ending....

It's been a long day at work and I've finally made it home.  While a little bit of Italian sausage simmers in some tomatoes and a glass of wine help calm me down from the day, my thoughts are lost in what lies before me tomorrow....

Saying goodbye to someone is never an easy task.  It is made harder when the bond forged between you is stronger than that with all the others that came before. 

It's been said in song that "the secret to a happy ending is knowing when to roll the credits".  That time has come.  I knew that it couldn't last forever.  I've been in this game long enough to know that you'd better enjoy every relationship by soaking in every minute, and maximizing the good days, before they're gone.  And that day always come.

Sweetheart, I put every ounce of effort I had into you, and I can truly say that you were perfect.  Every day, going all the way back to the minute I lay eyes on you.  You were what I'd dreamed of and I had you, all to myself. 

Bright sunshine always turns to beautiful sunsets.  And then the sunset turns to darkness.  How wonderful is the work of God to give us this beauty to escort out the closing of the day.  I too look at our relationship through this lens as our love seemed to grow with each and every day, until the bright blue sky turned its purple hue, and then.... darkness.

Please know, that my love for you never wavered.  I recollect all those moments we spent together.  Solitude and love.  Your curves had become so familiar to me that I could feel you without even touching you.  You dressed like no other and carried a style all your own. 

I always knew you'd catch the eye of another.  My hats off to this man, for he truly has won a prize of prizes.  My only hope is that your future with him carries the same affection and magic that we shared.  I wish you all the best as you disappear down the road with him.... tomorrow. 

You will always be my sweet, Big Red Sled.  And I'll miss you baby.

Now, what to build next...

Ride safe, and with purpose.
SMB

A Letter to The Princess

It seems like forever since I visited you here, but Spring is my prime time.  I've been so busy lately in the business and so focused on my day to day that there frankly just hasn't been any time.  My mind has been off and in the trenches and thus, finding a spark of inspiration for this blog has been more than tough.  But, you know,  inspiration can come from any direction.

Let me begin.

There's always a feeling of melancholy at the end of a road trip.  Reflective thoughts on the miles you've ridden, the places you've been and the people you've met.  There is a bit of sadness that is hard to shake, but also the excited sense of anticipation at what lays ahead, that next trip.  What adventures will it bring? As I write, there is another journey that is coming to an end, and, like road trips, another journey about to begin.

A little over 10 years ago, I found myself making my way through this world as a single father of two little boys.  Through whatever stroke of luck or touch of grace, I met Angie and we began to date.  We had been dating several weeks when we met the "rest" of our collective "package deals".  Hers came in the form of a beautiful little 7 year old girl named Haiden.  Now, keep in mind, I am the youngest of four boys.  Until my nieces came in the late 80's, it had been over 30 years since a girl had been born anywhere in my family.  It's a common joke to say that men know very little about women, but I knew absolutely nothing about little girls.

But here I was.  The relationship between Angie and I grew quickly, as did my fondness for Haiden.  Angie was doing an amazing job as a single mother working two jobs to raise and support her daughter. It was not a long courtship before I fell in love, though I'm not sure which beautiful, blue eyed brunette I fell in love with first.  I think back on the days of playing game cube in the floor with Haiden, and of Bratz dolls and Barbies. Evenings spent sprawled on the couch watching TV, her delicate frame lying on top of me like a blanket.  I am warmed by the thoughts of those nights that I would tuck her into bed.  Picking her up, long legs wrapping around my waist, head on my shoulder as I carried that sweet girl to bed, and covered her with a quilt.  A Scooby Doo video was a must as well as the final words of the night, "Good night sweetheart, I love you."

Angie and I married and the boys came to live with us full time and as such we were able to completely blend our families.  We set off down the road of life. 

By the time you get to read this, one journey for Haiden will come to a close.  My Princess is graduating from High School and will soon begin the next of life's adventures. 

I had sat down tonight to get some of my thoughts about this milestone out in front of me to begin to sort them all out.  I decided to use this blog as the venue for those thoughts.  By the time you read it, I don't know how much I will have changed, or deleted, or just kept between Haiden and I, but....

This is my letter to my Princess...

     I always knew this day was coming. It's hard for me to imagine what life was like before you arrived in it. I had a friend a long time back who also had sons, about the same age as Carter and Brandon. He would always tell me, "Buddy, there's nothing like a daughter". I never completely grasped what he was telling me. It's not that the love one has for sons is any less, but when you came along, it clicked. That love one has for a daughter is different. 

      There was something special about you from the moment I met you. A sparkle in your eyes and an understanding of the world and life that I'd never seen in a child your age. You were smart beyond your own good and wise beyond your years, yet your heart was as tender and affectionate as a baby. It has been such a privilege to watch you grow, to see you change. I think back with fond memory of your passage from childhood into a young lady. You'd become a teenager and with it brought you new challenges as well as new challenges for your mother and I. You learned about life along with us. Parents become accustomed to sleepless nights and worry and we were no exception but you learned from your experiences and learned how to make your way, as well as leave your mark. I watched in loving awe as the cocoon opened and out into the world flew the butterfly.

     Your mother and I have never used the term "step".  There are no "step parents" or "step children" in our home, only parents and children.  I have never looked at you with any eyes other than that of a father who loves every fiber of your being. I've told you before, I might not have arrived in your life until you were seven, but God knows, I got here as fast as I could.  I hope you've always felt the authenticity of my love for you.  I have given you all that I have in my heart and soul and along with your mother, I have done my best to raise you into the splendid young woman you've turned out to be.  Thank you for giving me that chance.  Thank your for accepting me into your life.  Thank you for taking my sons to be your brothers, and for loving them no differently than if you'd been there the day they were born.  Thank you for letting me have the heart of your mother. 


     Thank you for allowing me to stand in the gap for you.....


     And now, here you are.  The great bridge between adolescence and adulthood.  You are focused and prepared to set the world on its ear. I can't wait to see what lies ahead for you.  Whatever it is, you will be excellent at it.  Why shouldn't you be?  You've always been perfect in my eyes. The world belongs to you.  Go and make it a better place, my Princess.  With every breath in my lungs and every beat of my heart, I love you Haiden Leigh. 

I hope all of you will join me in congratulating Haiden Leigh Diffee on her graduation with Honors from South Gibson County High School.  She will continue working at the store in Jackson through the summer until the time that she will pack her bags and move to Murfreesboro to attend college at Middle Tennessee State this fall.  She'll be working for my brother Tom over at the Murfreesboro store.  Y'all stop by and see her before she leaves and breaks my heart again...

Thanks for listening and as always, Ride Safe and with Purpose.

Scott

Doing Something for Dalton...

Ok folks.  I knew I'd end up bringing this topic up at some point soon, but I wasn't exactly sure when.  As I've said, this blog is where I talk about things that are important to me.  They will nearly always revolve around motorcycling, but not today.

Anyone who knows me also knows that my children are the most important things in my world and I'm blessed with three of them.  I hope you've had a chance to meet them at some point along the way.  My youngest is 12 years old and his name is Brandon.  He's my 'rider'.  He loves to go with me any chance he gets.  Last April, I was fortunate enough to get to take a road trip with him as we set out to conquer a few thousand miles and raise awareness of a disease called Cystic Fibrosis.  CF is a genetic disorder that causes the lungs and digestive system to fill with and become clogged by a thick sticky mucus that eventually kills those who have it, generally by respiratory failure. Brandon has it.  Now, when Brandon was diagnosed with the disease at birth, we were told that CF would claim its victim, on average, at 20 years of age.  Now, thanks to the funds raised by organizations like the Cystic Fibrosis Foundation ( www.cff.org )great advancements in medicine and treatments have stretched that mortality rate into the 30's, but that still leaves us with no cure.  They are getting closer, but not there yet.  Some time I'll go into greater detail of what life is like for children (and now adults) with CF, but that's not what this post is about.

All this leads me to the news I got this morning.  I was informed that during the night, CF, the disgusting monster that it is, claimed the life of an 11 year old boy in Lexington named Dalton.

I'd not ever had the privilege of meeting Dalton in person, nor have I been able to meet his parents.  All that I know about him and his family is what I've learned through others.  I do know that Dalton's health has been failing rapidly for some time.  I've been told that Dalton has had to make so many frequent trips to Le Bonheur Children's Hospital in Memphis (the same place I take Brandon for care) that both of his parents have lost their jobs due to taking time off. 

I heard stories this morning of a frantic mother calling the on-call doctor at the CF center and explaining exactly what was happening to Dalton's poor weak body at that very minute and hearing the words on the other end of the phone, instructions to please do the following, "turn off the machine and hold him tightly.  It's time."



I am a CF parent.  Don't think that as I look into his face that I don't see the face of my 12 year old CF'er.  Dalton was the child of all CF parents.  CF parents are not doctors.  We are not scientists.  We can offer care, but not find cures.  We are all helpless at times like this.  There's nothing left to do for Dalton.  He's safe.  Running, laughing, and breathing easy right now, but his parents are left here on this Earth to pick up the pieces.

I've been told that there are some extremely pressing financial issues that are laying at the feet of Dalton's family.  I want to try to help, but I don't know what all of the specifics are. 

All this leads me down to a super simple request.  The weather in Jackson TN is going to be absolutely gorgeous this weekend.  On Saturday the 14th, while you are out enjoying it, I'd like you to come by the store, 326 Carriage House Drive.  There's going to be a guy that looks like me standing our front serving hot dogs off the grill.  You've seen me do it, and yeah, I'm pretty good at it.  As always, they'll be free.  This time though, there will be a little bucket sitting in front of me.  If you feel so inclined, come by and grab a dog and drop a quarter in it.  Maybe a dollar, or ten, or a hundred.  I don't care how much.  Maybe just a prayer for a broken family over in Lexington that could sure use them right now.

Thanks for considering it at least.

Ride safe and with purpose, and do it with Dalton Wallace on your mind.