We still don't do fear.... Right?

Ten years ago, Harley-Davidson bought a full page ad in the USA Today to try to change attitudes during the financial crisis that had befallen the country.  It was of a young man on an '08 Crossbones plastered across a red and white striped background.  Above him, written in a way that made it appear as an American flag.  The blue field held the words, "We don't do fear".  The rest of the text, written in red (of course.  All gospel is written in red) declared, "Over the last 105 years in the saddle, we've seen wars, conflicts, depression, resistance, and revolutions.  We've watched a thousands hand-wrenching pundits disappear in our rear-view mirror. But every time, this country has come out stronger than before. Because chrome and asphalt put distance between you and whatever the world can throw at you. Freedom and wind outlast hard times. And the rumble of an engine drowns out all the spin on the evening news. If 105 years have proved one thing, it;s that fear sucks and it doesn't last long.".  The capstone of the ad were the words, "Screw it, Let's Ride.".

That ad worked wonders for the MoCo.  It reengaged a distracted customer base and reminded people that our country is strong because its people are strong.  It reminded people that their mindset dictated their actions, and reactions to what was going on around them.  Our country did persevere.  And Harley-Davidson Nation indeed did say, Screw it, Let's Ride.  And they rode.

We rode all the way up to 2018 and now here we are.  Here's what else is still here.  Wars.  Conflicts.  Depression.  Resistance.  Revolution.  Along with that we are up to our noses in political polarization, our children being mowed down, scandal, hate, division....  We live in the age of instant communication, yet we rarely communicate with our fellow man on a personal level.  We believe lies and ignore truths.  We don't react to news.  We dictate news to fit our agenda.  We yell at each other and hear no one.  We think we have the answers but don't give a damn whether we actually listen to the questions.  We give credence to every outlandish theory that some stranger spews but are doubtful of the things our heart tells us.

We listen to memes instead of neighbors.  We look at our phones more than our family.  The give and take of civil discourse is now, "I'm right and F&ck you".  We are divided by who we voted for, the color of our skin, where we go to church or whether we even choose to.  We are divided by who we love and what we believe.  Bitterly divided.

I'm often left wondering if we still are our brothers keeper.  Do we have time enough in our daily lives to love?  To listen?  To live?  Are we happy with the example we set for our children or is it just easier to call the younger generation useless...soft....lazy...stupid?

What is it going to take for us to get back engaged with our lives?  What will it take for us to be happy and content with the world around us?  We will always have conflict.  We will always deal with things that depress us.  Revolution and Resistance are as American as apple pie, but how much of either are you truly getting done sitting on your ass or buried in your phone?  We NEED a revolution!  One that brings us back to why our time on this Earth is important!

I do love how the 2008 Harley-Davidson ad brought the solutions of the world and dumped them on the open road and left us with the thought that all we had to do was go and find them.  I'm also not so naive that I think a marketing slogan is going to bring us out of this National funk in which we seem to wallow.

But what if it could?  What if we truly did start to put focus on things that brought us together? 

What if we started to realize the worth of our fellow humans and the value of real interaction with them?  What if we put more time into loving each other for the things we have in common, rather than hating for our differences? 

What if we truly started treating each other as our own brothers and sisters?  What would the world look like if we got back to seeing it in person rather than through a screen?  What if we were to relearn the art of communication?

What if we were to actually be able to change the world?

I like to think that those of us who live in that small percentage of the world who ride on 2 wheels understand this.  Our passion is centered around experiences.  Real, visceral experiences. 

We seek out the beauty and danger of the world.  We understand that our time here is limited and that if we truly want to experience what God has given us here on Earth, we'd better go and get it.  When we ride, we know who our brothers and sisters are.  They ride next to us.  Our brothers and sisters are not categorized by their income, their color, their politics.  We wave at each other as we pass as if we've known each other all our lives.  We know more about them than some of our own family know about us.  We have a bond. We find the good in each other before we seek the bad.

We look out for each other.  We care about each other.  We stop on the side of the road when one of us is in need.  We come together.  We ride together.  We laugh together, and we mourn together.  We love each other, though we may not even know each others name.

Sounds a little corny, doesn't it.  Sounds like a weird little utopia, doesn't it.  The, "Yeah, but whaddabout"'s can try with all their power to say that things like I'm describing don't matter, but I firmly believe that they do.

What if everyone tried relating to each other in the manner which riders do?  What if we tried to all find common ground and love first?  What if we got off the couch, and out of the house and saw America? 

Could we change the world?  Maybe.  Maybe not.  But it damn sure beats what we are doing now.

Thomas Paine wrote, "We have it in our power to change the world over".

We who ride can start by trying to look at every piece of the world through the same goggles we wear when we ride.

Maybe the rest of you can start acting more like motorcyclists.

Ride Safe, and with Purpose.

SMB

A 20 Year Journey, The Final Chapter

For reference, please read A 20 Year Journey, Part 1

June 16,  2014
          After breakfast with Angie, Blake and I were on the road by 9am.  412 to Dyersburg.  Saw a bald eagle between Dburg and the river.  Rode to Sikeston and 60 across MO.  Hot and windy.  Blake is getting used to his Limited and riding on my schedule!  His ass isn't as tough as it used to be!  Road lunch in Mt View, MO.  Bologna and hot sauce.  I love road lunch.  The only way to go.  Getting GoPro dialed in.  Tried to make it to Pittsburg Kansas but closed roads and fatigue had their way with us.  Made it to Joplin MO.  Still lots of tornado damage.  Rode Rt 66 for a while.  Still want to ride the whole thing.  Steaks and whiskey for Blake's birthday.  Big tornadoes in Nebraska today.  We'll stay south.  Total day=494 miles.

     Blake Stabenow, Eric Jones and I were the best of friends in college.  We were brothers, riders, playmates.  We ran together, played together, talked together, traveled together, dreamed together.  After Eric's death and graduation, Blake and I went our separate ways.  I went on to marriage, the family motorcycle business and fatherhood and Blake on to his successful career in commercial construction in New Orleans eventually marrying and becoming a father himself.  We would still talk on the phone from time to time and enjoy an occasional dinner and drinks whenever Angie and I would travel to NOLA.  Other than a small refugee stint Blake pulled at my house after hurricane Katrina, we really haven't been able to spend that much time together.  But then, a few weeks ago, after reading the above linked blog, Blake called me.  He'd been up to Redfield many years back, but wanted to go again.  I'd planned for this journey to be a solo trip, but Blake would be a natural addition and I was excited to have him along.

June 17, 2014
          I just thought yesterday was hot and windy.....  Perfect morning.  On the road at 7:30.  We got to Fort Scott and turned west.  That's where the wind kicked in.  Blew like hell.  The sun is really baking the hell out of us too.  Kansas is a lot bigger than it looks on the map.  Went to the Harley Store in Junction City for Blake to get gloves.  His hands look like lobsters.  We turned west on 24 at Ft Riley Kansas.  Crossing the lake, the wind nearly blew us off the road.  West=suck.  North=Good!  Once on 24, the temp started to climb.  That little piece of shade I was looking for to have road lunch was elusive.  Had big plans early today to make North Platte.  Nope.  Made it to Kearney Neb.  Pop and I stayed here on our 1990 trip.  Whiskey in the pool and more great conversation with Blake.  We truly "embraced the suck" today!  Good Mexican food at the Irish-Mexican joint next door...  Total miles today= 575  1069 total trip.

     As I've said before, this trip has been on my radar for years.  I had no idea what I wanted to do, yet I knew exactly how I wanted to do it.  I wanted to be fluid.  I didn't want stringent plans and GPS processed routes.  I didn't want to have hotel reservations made in advance (though my sweet wife was a godsend back in civilization for handling my travel agent legwork once I knew where we'd end up).  I wanted to ride, and reflect, and think.  Blake was turning out to be a great travel companion.  Road trips are complex things and can be stressful, but Blake was so agreeable to all of my "lack of plans".  We talked and talked.  Mostly about Eric.  And about our lives when he was still here.  We talked about what we'd missed over the years without him.  We talked about how much he'd have loved to sit there and be bullshitting right along with us.  The next morning, before departure, I stuck Jones's pic in my windshield. 

June 18, 2014
          Out of Kearney at 7am.  Nebraska is so much better than Kansas.  Up through the Sand Hills.  I do not know where all the coal trains are coming from but the coal business must be good!  Made great time.  Decided to skip Wyoming today and go to Deadwood.  Rode Needles Highway.  Road lunch at Sylvan.  Left a couple of pictures of Jones along the way.  

Stayed at the Hickok Hotel.  Steaks and conversation with Blake were great.  Made a few bucks off of Kevin Costner at his casino...  Miles today=502, total=1572

     I'd brought along about a dozen pictures of Eric.  When I printed them, I had no idea what I wanted to do with them, but on this third day, it became obvious.  I planted the first one up on the Needles, and the second by the beautiful lake Sylvan.  The trip was starting to take shape.  Meanings were coming out of the fog.


 June 19, 2014
          Last nights Jack Daniel's left my brain cloudy this morning, so an early start was not to be.  Got off slow out of Deadwood and on the road at 10:30 after breakfast at the Bullock Hotel.  Rode Spearfish Canyon.  That has to be one of the most beautiful rides I've ever taken.  Got to bring Angie here.  Quite cold.  In the low 60's.  Almost got run over by a cowboy and his trailer in Belle Fourche.  I was better than he, though.  Up 212 into Montana for pictures and then south towards Devil's Tower.  

Wyoming is spectacular.  Typical western road construction.  They just tear the road up and put you in the dirt.  It was really bad coming back through Custer though.  Muddy switchbacks and crazed dumptrucks.  In for the night at the Adoba "Eco" Hotel in Rapid City.  I don't know what that means either but they have good laundry machines and bison oso buco.... Left some pictures of Jones in some great places today....  Badlands tomorrow!!!  Odometer=294, total =1864.

     At this point of the trip, it seems that we'd been on the road for months.  Not that I was tiring of it, hell no, but it was almost like I could hardly remember us not being out there.  I don't know how someone can own a motorcycle and not ride it in the western United States.  WHY would someone have one and not ride it in the western US?  Blake and I hadn't missed a beat.  We were now older and wiser, but at heart, we were still the same 20 year old kids that we'd once been.  We laughed at the same things, tried to remember old times and made up fabulous fabrications when gaps found their way into our recollections.  We cut up and laughed and opened our mouths and souls and let the last 20 years of long distance camaraderie find their way out and into the open air of the Black Hills and Great Plains.  In the coming days, we'd need that wisdom and insight into the world that those two 20 year olds couldn't have mustered.


June 20, 2014
          Today might be my favorite day so far.  The Badlands were simply spectacular.  Rode up from Interior.  Got some really good stuff on the GoPro.  Took a hike up on one of the mesas and left Jones in a perfect spot overlooking the kind of canyon that he'd spend hours in.  (Jones's Canyon)   I'd sure like to think that the pictures I'm leaving will last.  Got some rear facing shots of Blake with the suction cup mount.  BUT, while riding with the camera mounted on the fairing, it flew off!!  Running!!!  The footage was awesome though.... (Suction Cup Failure...)  Couldn't have scripted it better!  Out of the Badlands and into Wall.  Wall sucks.  Tourist hell.  Good Buffalo burger and a cold beer at the Red Rock.  Rode up north through the Cheyenne River Reservation.....

     Websters defines the word "epiphany" as: a moment in which you suddenly see or understand something in a new or very clear way.  I don't know what the catalyst was, but there on that highway through the land of the Oglala........ mine arrived.  That night, in my little Gettysburg SD motel room, I would continue to write...

.....Spent the better part of the last of today's leg thinking on Eric and the real reasons for this ride.  When I left home, I really had little idea of what I was going to do with it.  I've started to get it though.  My conversations with Blake have revealed to me that he too has very little recollection of Eric's funeral.  We were so young and so ill prepared to deal with what was going on around us.  It all happened so fast.  He was there and then he was gone.  Just like that.  Eric died.  I hate that.  I'm pissed about it.  Parents should never have to bury their children, but also, children should never have to bury their playmates.  Though our birth dates made us adults, the truth is, We were CHILDREN!!

I hate that he died.  I hate that his parents lost their son and his siblings lost their brother.  I hate that he never got to meet my children.  I hate that he never knew Angie.  I hate that I was never able to meet the beautiful girl that would've become his wife, nor his sweet children.  I hate that I never got to witness his surely remarkable career unfold and regale in his stories of being a Marine Pilot.  And what a Marine he'd have turned out to be...  I hate that we missed all of these trips.  I hate all of it and I've realized that hate is all I've had for 20 years.  I never got to say goodbye and experience the closure that a funeral is supposed to bring.  I couldn't.  I was there, but only in body.  

So here is this ride.  My LIFE CELEBRATION for Eric Jones.  An 8 day funeral and wake.  I've drug that kid all over the country and delivered eulogy after eulogy all over God's creation.  I've no ashes to spread, as they were placed in that Redfield SD grave, but I've spread his life, memory and photo likeness....  Tomorrow, we go to Redfield.  Tomorrow, Blake and I will bury the dead Eric Jones.  I'm leaving the dead one there.  I'm leaving the darkness there.  I'm leaving the visions of March 3 there.  I'm leaving all that hate there too.

I'm thankful for this level of clarity, as I didn't know what in the hell I was going to do when I got there.  I feel better.  It's amazing what a 10 mile cry can do...  Odometer=331, total=2195.

     Sleep that night would be sparse, at best.

June 21, 2014
          The wind is howling outside as a storm is starting to roll in.  The bikes are secure, however, and we are safely out of the weather an one of my favorite places on Earth for the healing of the mind and soul.  I'm in the Greatroom of the Southfork Lodge in Dallas, SD.  I'm so thankful for my friendship with Tommy Walsh and Rick Lutt and I'm grateful for them allowing us to stay here tonight.  It's quite different today than during the pheasant season!

Well.... We made it to Redfield today at about 10am and spent a few hours at the grave of our old and greatest pal.  Spent a lot of time talking to Blake about the same thoughts I'd written on previous pages last night.  The day was more beneficial than I could've planned for in my wildest dreams.  Unbeknownst to me really, Blake was dealing with the same demons as I.  He too had made the Redfield trek in years past but, like me, it hadn't changed a thing for him.  As I'd said, we were both too young and didn't deal with it.  Eric died while we were in school, in the house I was calling 'home'.  It happened, and the multitude of families swooped in, planned and executed a funeral, packed him and his things and they were off.  We were left there with nothing.  We'd spent the last 20 years as characters in God's tragic Theater of the Absurd-The Death of a Child....  And we didn't even know it.  

But now, it is done.  The 20 year old funeral for our old dear friend is done.  I finally buried Eric Jones today.  With him, I buried the legacy of sorrow and death.  Of sadness, anger, tragedy, and hatred.  All that remains is life and smiles.

Tomorrow, we ride hard... Southward, hoping to get deep into and perhaps even out of Kansas.

But tonight, we shall drink and laugh, and remember our friend.

Odometer= 287
Total=2483

     Eric's parents were native South Dakotan's that found themselves living on opposite ends of the country at the time of his passing.  They laid his remains to rest in a cemetery in their hometown, surrounded by family.  I find it amusing and not ironic that Eric is in the farthest plot in the farthest northwest corner of the cemetery.  Off to himself one last time.  Blake and I came.  We cried, and walked, and laughed, and drank, and reminisced, and held each other.  I sang, played guitar, yelled, and rested.  We left a picture of a young man in his prime, a copy of an unrealized 5-Year Plan, pierced and held to the ground by a small USMC flag.

     And when I left, I left with plans to never return.  If I feel the need to 'visit' Eric again, I'll visit him in all those other places I left him.... The Black Hills, Devil's Tower, The Badlands, Frank Day's, and the 3,576 miles of highway across this beautiful country where he now rests.  It's where he'd rather me meet him anyway.

     Thank you Angie Bumpus for the understanding and support you showed by letting me jet out into the unknown with very little regard to your worries.  Thank you Blake Stabenow for being with me, and for Lacy Stabenow for making sure you were aware of my plans.

     Healing is sweet.  Release is sweet.  It didn't require anything but time.  My therapist was a blacktop highway and a machine.  My doctors office was the great expanse of our beautiful nation.

     I love you, Eric Scott Jones.  This was the trip we didn't get to take.  It was a celebration of you and "us" and all things that we loved.  Rest in Peace, my brother.  I'll see you again.

1971-1994

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

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 (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

Resolutions

Happy New Year!  Let me begin by thanking all of you that have been taking a few minutes of your life to read my ramblings.  A special thanks to you that have stopped me in the store and humbled me with your kind comments.  I truly do appreciate it.

New Years is the time when we make "resolutions" to do things during the coming year.  Small promises to ourselves to do new things, do things differently, or perhaps stop doing things.  Smoking, weight loss, etc.  I've never been much of one to make these promises to myself.  I guess that I couldn't stand the pressure.  I guess that the fear of not being able to keep up the promise might have been greater than my desire to change.  That being said, I do have a few resolutions that I'd like to make and each of them surround my passion for the greatest sport in the history of mankind, motorcycling.

Days like this kill me. 40ish degree temps, fog, spitting rain, snowy forecast... This is the time of year that can kill the soul of motorcyclists.  I do everything I can to keep that biker soul sharp and my mind races with everything I want to do and wish I could be doing right now.  It's these thoughts that lead me to this list of resolutions.  Some of them may seem pretty easy for some of you and others perhaps more challenging.  Some may seem silly.  I don't care.  It's my list.  Here goes...

1.  I will ride at least 8,000 miles this year.
     This may not sound like a huge one to a few of you out there, but for me, it's a biggie.  One of the downfalls of doing what I do is that during the best riding times, I'm working.  I know that there are ways to still get the miles in and I intend to exploit as many of those opportunities as I can.  The average rider, we've found, is riding anywhere between 7,000 and 10,000 miles per year, based on the mileage we've seen on bikes in the store.  Last year was one of my better years for miles and I logged about 6,500.  I'll do better this year.  I have some destinations in mind.  I've got to stop "hoping" I can make it, and start "making it".

2.  Unless absolutley necessesary, while on a motorcycle road trip, my bike will not lead me to "chain restaurants".
     This is one of those you might find a bit silly, but to me, it's not.  Now, I'm not "hating on" chain restaurants.  There are some fine people that work at Burger King and I have some great entrepreneur friends that own these businesses.  That being said, when I get on my bike, I want to escape the world of "sameness".  I want variety.  I want something "off the wall".  Something local.  I look at Mom N Pop locally owned eateries like they are landmarks.  Try one.

3.  Continue to remind myself that interstates have no soul and only serve one purpose to the traveling motorcyclist.
     That purpose?  To make time.  Whenever possible, get off I-40 and get on Rt 66.  You won't regret it.  The soul of America isn't on the Eisenhower Expressway System.

4.  See three different mountain ranges.
     Self explanitory.

5.  See an old friend.
     Also self explanitory.

6.  Take my kids riding with me more than I did last year.
     I got to take one great road trip last year with one of my kids.  I have two more that I want the opportunity to do the same thing.  I have one leaving for college this year.  Time is running out.

7.  Make a difference.

     I'm not really 100% sure what this means yet, but I can't get it out of my head.  When it happens, I'll know it.

8.  I'll enjoy the sheer beauty of cheese and cracker lunches on the side of the road at every opportunity.

     Thanks to my brother Tom, the master of roadside meals, for opening my eyes on this one.

Now, in the meantime, I'll go over my gear.  Make sure it's ready to go at a moments notice.  I'll look at that big red motorcycle pointed at the door.  I'll watch the forecast and my calendar.  And I'll dream about making it all come true.

Ride Safe my Brothers and Sisters.

Scott

Merry Christmas

I can't lie to you, from the standpoint of a motorcyclist, this has been one of the better Decembers.  I actually got the chance to get out and ride a hundred miles or so this past Monday.  Between the typical December weather and other obligations both in and out of the store, that's nearly unheard of for me.  50 degrees and broken overcast skies presented perfect weather for the big red Road Glide, a heated jacket liner, and a sweatshirt.  I took a ride up to one of my favorite places, Hampton's Store at Skullbone, TN.  I didn't have much time to spend there this trip, but whenever you get the chance, stop in and say Hi to Mr Landon and let him fix you the best rag bologna and salad dressing sandwich on the planet, white bread, of course.  While there, I thought about my good friend and fellow Harley dealer Scott Maddux.  Scott loves Skullbone and I thought back on the great ride he and I and several others made up there this summer, his first actual visit to the place.  Thanks to picture texting, I was able to send Scott a picture of where I was, hoping to include him in the fun.  I snapped the pic and took a look at it.  In that pic, I found another old friend, Click Baldwin. 

Click was another fellow dealer that we lost too early.  More than that, he was my friend.  I soon hopped back on the road, this time, with Click in my head.  It occurs to me, more every time I get out on the bike, that every ride is entwined with the others.  What started out as just a quick spin around a couple of adjacent counties turned into a ride with probably a dozen or so of my best friends, and they weren't even there.  On the surface, it might seem that it started around noon on that cool Monday early this week, but the more I thought and rode, it actually started back in the summer of '08, the trip we lost our dear Click.

I had nearly forgotten that entire trip.  It was the last trip I took out west.  It was only supposed to be a couple days of riding, after our summer dealer show.  A quick flight from Las Vegas up to Salt Lake City to pick up our bikes from my great friend Joe Timmons at HD of Salt Lake (go see Joe whenever you're out that way) and then a ride up through the Tetons in Idaho, into West Yellowstone and finally ending in Billings Montana.  This trip was going to be special because not only was I doing the trip with my wife and two of my brothers, but my Dad was going to be joining us.  The plan was to arrive in Billings, drop the bikes off at Beartooth HD, and fly home the next day.  I sat at the dinner table that night and listened to my Dad talk about his route home that he intended to take.  He was riding back and not flying.  It started to gnaw at me that there was an opportunity before me that I might never get back, another chance to ride with my pop.  I made the decision then and there to call the airline, cancel my flight, get my bike out of the dealership and finish that ride. 

My brothers made the same decision.  And what a ride it was.  Back across the northern plains, through Sturgis, the Badlands, and a stop at my Dad's old abandoned Air Force base.

And remember the things that made our life worth living.

Yeah, that was a great ride.  And it all came back to me because I decided to get out and ride Monday. 

Every ride counts. 

Since it's Christmas, I guess the only thing I can ask of Santa Claus is the opportunity to collect more of those same experiences in the coming year.  To not take for granted a single second that we have on this earth.  My wish for all of you as that you too have the opportunities to take pictures like these..

...The people you love, while doing what you love to do.

Merry Christmas to all of you and thanks for reading.

Scott Michael Bumpus

"For unto you is born this day in the city of David a Saviour, which is Christ the LORD" (Luke 2:11).