Richard was my Grandfather, a farmer turned machinist/tool and die after his service commitment in WWII. He wasn't a big man in fact only 5 foot 6 inches tall and about 150 lbs of solid muscle, but I dearly loved this man. It was from Richard that my love for biking began.
At birthday parties and family meetings the stories would eventually return to his exploits with his buddy Whitey. While Richard rode Harleys, Whitey rode an Indian suicide shifter and all. Their bikes were bobbed, not to make a fashion statement, but rather out of pure necessity. See they rode their bikes year round, studding the tires in the winter and chaining the tires for hill climbing which they loved to compete in.
Besides their practical bikes, they had practical riding gear. A leather jacket, work boots, gauntlet work gloves and a heavy pair of Levis jeans. They didn't wear rider motorcycle labeled attire, just the stuff they would put on to go to work, and after all it was riding not a fashion statement. They didn't have tattoo’s, pierced ears, or dangling chains, as they were biking enthusiasts not trend setters.
Whitey carried his riding scars with him. A bit of a dare devil, he had more riding scar's than ten people ought to have. Often I would sit for hours listening to the stories and viewing the black & white pictures of Richard & Whitey standing on their cycle seat, riding backwards or laying down as they rode down the streets. Their bikes covered with mud with chained tires throwing roost as they attempted to climb hills that appeared straight up for miles.
Not surprising that when I got my first of many motorcycles at age 7 I knew it would be a life long adventure. My first ride was straight into a concrete loading dock, the second a 20 foot jump over a dirt mound. Bent the forks both times, but Richard and dad were right there to help straighten things out and get me back on the road. It’s also not surprising that my older and younger brother ride, although their vision of biking is much different than mine. And in the tradition of family my daughter began riding and racing at age 7 and my son at age 4.
As I stated earlier my brothers hold a different view of riding than I. They wear all the appropriate name brand clothes, polish their bikes incessantly, and adorn their body with all forms of body jewelry (tattoos). Their bikes are spotless and never a raindrop to bear. There mileage is reflective of their status. See from Richard I learned that it’s not about how clean your bike is, the cloths you wear or the number of tattoos that adorn your body. It’s about the joy of riding, the adventure at hand, the camaraderie of fellow enthusiast that share the passion to ride. I ride all over this country and have traveled throughout many other, experiences I will carry with me forever.
Richard has since gone to a better place and all that remains of his riding days is the belt that cinched up the bottom of his riding jacket, some awesome black and white photo's, and a family that all sharing Richards legacy of riding, even if our philosophy of riding is different.........
Ride safe all and enjoy your passion for riding to the fullest. Richard did.........