Alberta Adventure Riders/Why We Ride

There was a post about a week ago where the wife of a proud LC 1500
owner was picked on by her co-workers, about riding with her
husband. A lot of advice was given on how to handle that situation.
The co-workers were talking out of ignorance and fear of what they
perceived as dangerous. I was reminded of the old biker adage "If I
have to explain, you won't understand!" How true 99.99 percent of
the time. But to get a non rider, one of that remaining .001 percent
to truly understand, is really something. I have succeeded in this only once....

When I first told my Dad at age 14 that I wanted to buy a motorcycle,
he said "No you don't". He just didn't understand. Well I got that
first bike and he thought it was a teenage thing and I would out grow
it. Still didn't understand. A few years and bikes later, while in the
navy on the West Coast, a drunk in an out of control Chevy, totaled
my bike and me, along with a friend and his bike, in a head on crash.
(good thing it wasn't a Buick, we could have really been in trouble)
In hospital, in traction, during one of my Dad's phone calls he
wanted to know if I was going to give up motorcycles now. He still
didn't get it. But his best shot came while visiting us in Edmonton,
seeing and holding his grand daughter, my first born for the first
time. You really don't understand what it is to be a father untill you
see your own father hold your first baby child. Seeing them together
made me see my father in a way I never had before, and I started to
understand. A few minutes later, after my mother,sister and now ex
wife kicked us out so they could have the baby to them selves. We
were having a beer on the patio. He noticed my 74 Suz 500 Titian
sitting there, and said "You will be getting rid of that thing now won't
you?" At my quizzical "why" look, nodded to the diaper change going
on inside. Given my new status as a father, it gave me a pause for
thought. Close, but no cigar!

Now years later, kids are just about grown up, and after 14 years, my
1982 KZ 750 LTD Twin has been replaced by the new 1996 1400. My
Dad now thinks I'm too old to ride long distance, but likes the lines
of the Intruder. During a conversation about my plans for a New
Orleans trip, he says it's to far and I could be killed riding that
distance. So I put it to him "Suppose you loved doing something, it
doesn't matter what, but you gave it up because someone said it was
dangerous. You still long to do it, but you don't. You spend the rest
of your life missing out on one of the things in life you truly love and
want to do. How would you feel? I have had 30 years of doing the one
constant thing from my teens to the now, that I truly love doing. If I
die on the bike tomorrow, I go with 30 years of passion and joy I
would not have had or known otherwise. Can you imagine wanting
something that bad and for some reason you don't get to do it,"...

He can.
Born in 1920, raised on the farm in the Ottawa Valley, it was the
Roaring 20's a time of budding technology and a young boy who saw
bi-planes fly. Like all his age, his teen years were during the Dirty
30's, the Great Depression. I said to him once that it must have been
pretty rough back then. He said "Yea I guess" and then with a grin "of
coarse we didn't realize it back then. You just made do with what you
had." He had a chance to buy a Harley for $50.00 in 1936. But fifty is
a million when you don't have it, times being what they were. Like
all his age the first half of his 20's was spent at war. He had a
background in radio and at age 19, was at sea as a radio officer in the
Canadian Merchant Marine. They were the ones who transported
supplies and munitions to the war effort. They were also the ships
the raiders and wolfe packs went after. The convoy ships would be
targeted not the man-o-war escorts. It was dangerous duty. But with
out the supply lines, the war in Europe would have been lost. In 42
America entered the war, and my father wanted to join the Air Force
and do what he always really wanted to do ... Fly. The head of the
Merchant navy no less, told him he could best serve his country by
staying in the Merchant. He was qualified and there was a shortage
of radio officers at sea. There was no question of what he'd do. My
father willingly did what his country asked of him, like all his age
who fought that war. The flyer in him never got to be. No regrets, you
make do with what you are dealt. That's the way he is. He probably
would have made a half decent flyer ... or got his ass shot out from
under him first time out!

In his late 70's he took his first ride on a motorcycle, my 1400. Its
only fair, I have been up in bi-planes with him. Crashed landed in a
hot-air balloon with him and been to Star Wars and Star Trek
movies both in one afternoon with him.(ok the movies were my idea)
On his 79th birthday after a family outing, I offered him a ride home
on the bike. With that grin of his and the rest of the family staring in
disbelief, we got on the Intruder and at 80 MPH headed down the 401,
a 12 lane hwy that cuts across northern Toronto. When we got home
he had two things to say about the ride...he could see where the power,
speed and the open feeling could be addictive. "And did you see those
two old bitties looking at us as we went past them." Yup he
understands. As we rode along the 401 that day I watched my father's
reaction to high speed in the mirrors. To any cager who looked our
way, saw only an old man on the back of a motorcycle smiling. The
rider in me looking back through those rose tinted mirrors saw the
smile on that 79 year old face, was that of a kid born in 1920 who
looked up and saw bi-planes. The gleam in those 79 year old eyes as
we skimmed over the blacktop at 80 MPH was that of the flyer, the
real world would not allow, peeking out ... and for that brief moment
got to soar. My father has reserved a ride for his 80th birthday this
summer. We understand ...

enjoy the road....Emu

Emu Was A Valued Member Of The IA Cafe

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