The Busted Knuckle

04/06/2022

Ramblings from a motorcycle mechanic.
April 5, 2022

The shop is a different kind of place in this world, to some a cluttered mess and others a treasure chest to search through. It's my world six days a week and a sanctuary for a mind that needs ever changing work conditions.

This morning was hard and the day a struggle until end, a phone call about the passing of a customer in a wreck. The same frantic thoughts as always when this happens,
Was it my fault?
Did I miss something?
Did I mess up?
Did I forget?
This is a constant fear that sits in the corner of my mind, I'd never considered this until '03 when it was brought to a classes attention by a teacher that was fed up with careless behaviour. As he lost his cool and exploded on a few unsuspecting students, I heard every word he said, I heard it over and over in my head for weeks. I almost didn't follow this path, just thinking about bearing that weight was unbearable. I told Neil the teacher how I was feeling, in usual Neil coolness he says then don't, if it bothers you that much you won't.
I still worry and it still bothers me.

I didn't really know the guy but he loved his bike, a Vulcan Nomad. A bike I love, one that kept me sain when the world around me was spiraling out of control. That's my connection to customers. As we talked I explained what he had, he knew. To the people who have rode a Vulcan it is more than a motorcycle. I had some parts that weren't for sale, but he was proud of that bike and brought it to me to fix small things, turn signals, bars, mirrors, service. He asked about some parts, I don't know why sometimes I'm compelled to let the secret stash go but it happens. He bought what he wanted, I gave a few he didn't ask for.
Who am I to question the universe?

Life can be long or short, sometimes the river carrys you and sometimes you walk up hill in mud but time marches on. Live like today is the last and grab a handful of throttle anytime you get a chance. If you're in a truck, look twice and save a life. RIP Bother, I'll see you on the other side, I hope they've got you got a pink vulcan to ride.

07/20/2020

Many of you may have noticed that when bikers encounter one another on the road, we wave with a two finger down.
What this means is, " keep two wheels on the ground"...in other words, Ride Safe.
Keep in mind, we rarely EVER know each other. Nonetheless, we wish each other safe travels. It matters not if they are on a Harley, Honda, Yamaha, etc.
It matters not if they are on a cruiser, a chopper, or a crotch rocket.
It matters not if they are male or female, Black White Asian or anything else.
What matters, is that they are a part of a community.....a group of people with a shared enthusiasm and passion.
Bikers are a small group of any population, yet the similarities to a much larger group still exist.
We are ALL just trying to make it through life.
The judgements, bias, racism, and hatred that exist in the world, DO NOT exist on the road between bikers. We just want fellow riders to make it home safe.
We should ALL wish the same for each other. That we make it through life with no roadblocks, wrecks, or fatalities and have a "Good Ride"
That's what I learned from the biking community......how about you ??

07/17/2020

02/27/2020

THE DREAM THAT MANY WILL NOT UNDERSTAND:

I bought a BIKE for a personal dream... One day when I am very old and when I can not walk anymore, it will be in my garage as a trophy of my memories.

I met people who taught me something and have the same spirit and I met others that I'm glad I forgot.

I got wet,
I felt cold,
And I felt warm,
I was afraid,
I fell,
And I stand up,
I even hurt myself,

But also, I laughed out loud inside the helmet.

I spoke a thousand times with myself.

I sang and shouted with joy like a madman, ...and yes, ... sometimes I cried.

I have seen wonderful places and lived unforgettable experiences.

I often made curves that even Marc Marquez would be proud of; other times I made curves full of terror.

I stopped a thousand times to see a landscape.

I spoke with perfect strangers, and I forgot people I see every day.

I went out with my demons inside and returned home with a feeling of absolute peace in my heart.

I always thought how dangerous it is, knowing that the meaning of courage is to advance even feeling fear.

Every time I go up to my machine I think about how wonderful it is.

I stopped talking to those who do not understand, (they just do not understand) and I learned through gestures to communicate with other riders.

I spent money that I did not have, giving up many things, but all these things are not worth even a moment about my BIKE.

It is not a means of transport or a piece of iron with wheels, it is the lost part of my soul and my spirit.

And when someone says to me: "You have to sell the BIKE and you have to be a more serious person", ... I do not answer. I just swing my head and smile,
walking on, a BIKE..... only the person who loves them understands it.

May God bless my friends and their toy of great people!

And the adventure continues..

02/11/2020