You're a good man Charlie Brown. I agree with the emotion expressed. You also did a good job pf writing what most of us believe. I'll add one from Hunter S. Thompson. I quote it every time a client expresses concern i might be killed racing just before a trial. "It's better to be shot out of a cannon than squeezed out of a tube." The lessons your dad taught you were well learned by you. i am certain he is quite proud.
Happy Holidays. "Somedays the light's all shinin on me"
Nice, Sean. But i think if your dad was here, he'd kick your ass first for those gay flamer boots that are still on the home page. then he'd tell u to get off your butt and give johnny something meaty to read. sv650 vs concours vs klr650 Geekbike Shootout. etc.
Your story reminds me of my dad, and a trip we took in the summer of '84 from Memphis Naval Air Station to 8th Naval District HQ in New Orleans.
I had the almighty 1980 GS1000S, bought with my hard earned paycheck that I got when I got out of boot camp in Great Lakes the year before, and my dad was riding an old Gs750E that had about a billion miles on it.
dad had ridden down from our home outside Springfield, MO, a nice 320 mile ride the day before, and would accompany me on the Ride down I-55 to New Orleans.
The things I remember most was being amazed that my dad would ride at about 90 miles per hour down highway 51 into Memphis as we headed for I-55. I figured he was just fooling around in a lightly populated area, so I didn't say anything about it when we stopped to fill up.
Well, we got onto 55, and no sooner did we clear the ramp, my dad accelerates back up to a nice steady 90 MPH. We rode well into Mississippi like that, until I needed gas and we turned off.
By this time, I was in total awe of my "Old Man" and his "screw the 55 mph laws!"
Dad rocks! Again, I said nothing. We got back onto the highway, and rode for quite a while.
Later when we stopped in some small town, and ate dinner, and I asked dad why he was riding so fast.
Suprisingly, he did the old man routine of basically "watch yourself, or you'll be getting up off the floor" thing.
I informed him that I wasn't kidding, we really were riding at 90 MPH the whole way.
Finally, we switched bikes, and turns out his speedo woud get to about 50 and then would slow down it's sweep to barely moving, and it would finally quit moving and just sit at about 63 Mph. He had ridden all the way from Springfield to Memphis, and halfway to New Orleans at 90 Mph.
My dad changed that day. Suddenly, we were closer than we had ever been. I don't know if it was the accidental speeding that didn't kill us, or the fact that maybe all "scofflaws" weren't the evil and wicked people that he always warned us about.
Whatever caused the change, it has been a wonderful life since then.
We rode together up through '97, when his eyesight got bad enough that he won't ride on the road anymore.
Dad is now 20 years older than that week, but he still enjoys riding my little 125cc Tuohe scooter when they come over. I think I will take it with me and give it to him tommorow.
I am really fortunate that I will get to joke about that again tommorow with my dad when my wife and kids and I all go to my parents for thanksgiving dinner.
I have been a pilot for nearly 20 years now, and my dad has never been up. I think I will talk him into it this weekend.
Thanks for sharing your dad with me.
If you don't mind, I think I will introduce your dad to mine. I will have to read it to him, but I think they would get along well.
This is great reading. The personal side of both the motojournalists and the readers is something you don't get much of in a print magazine, partly just because of the lag time between articles and responses getting published.
If anyone else was touched enough to want to share something, go for it. Excellent stuff.
Sean, some of us even get lucky enough to ride with MO guys on a shootout and have an absolute blast. Just got home to 4 inches of snow and 30 degree temps. God, I hate you and Buz! Happy Thanksgiving to all.
Thanksgiving heros, good stuff Sean & well written
now for a little change of pace i'd like to nominate my freaking THANKSGIVING TURKEY...
that would be the fatass kook in the Porsche SUV who went totally ape***** today during the evening commute when I did a perfectly legal safe lane split at a red light...
so he slalomed his out-of-state plate yuppiemobile through traffic so he could get behind me at the next light, pulled right up to my rear tire & revs his engine and glares, ready to bust a brain artery cuz someone dared pass his $100K POS...
and at the next light he gets alongside me & starts yabbering away so I yelled back "It's legal in California. Learn the traffic laws or go back to Flyoverville you f***ing trannie kook"
I dunno if he heard me or not but I thought it was a pretty snappy comeback, considering it was spur of the moment and all...
Its funny reading that story. Even though we have talked to for hours about your dad. Its still great to read about it and feel your dads passion through you.
You talk about thinking of your dad everytime you throw a leg over your ride. Funny how this works because if it wasnt for knowing you and hanging with you, I wouldnt know how to ride let alone ride at the level I do now. Everytime I throw a leg over my bike or drift my car sideways a thought goes out to my buddy Sean.
Tell me about it. I drove from Chicago to a suburb of Detroit yesterday. 4 1/2 hours usually. This time? 10 hours. Snow, rain, traffic, more snow, more rain, wind, traffic, traffic, traffic. Did I mention the traffic? Counted over 30 cars in the ditches. Ah, winter...