I saw a lot of crazy things during those years. There was the time a very drunk guy invited two equally inebriated women to climb onto his bike and the end of the night. They took off, three up on the Harley. They didn’t get far. Two blocks later, they ran a red light and were t-boned by a car. All three lived, although the guy spent a few months in a full body cast.

Then there was the night a bat got lose in the house. At 3 AM, I woke up to five or six bikers crashing around the house, trying to catch the bat. Most were still battling whatever drink caused them to pass out earlier, and all were wearing pillow cases over their heads to protect their hair (and long beards) from becoming the nesting ground of the bat. There was even one biker hoping around on a single leg, his wooden leg in his hand, swinging wildly at the bat. In the end, it was our cat that finally got a hold of the critter.

Of all the memories, none is as vivid as the memories of Mountain Man. To be honest, I don’t know how tall he really was, but to a thirteen year old kid, he was a giant. For years, I believed he was over seven feet tall. In reality, he was closer to six and a half feet. Still, he was a big dude. People didn’t call him Mountain Man because he was short.

For many years, Mountain Man was a hero to me. You see, he stood up for me one time when our family was out having fun. We went to a park and my brother and I were horsing around on a slide. An attendant at the park tried to kick us out, and Mountain Man came over and suggested to the guy that he reconsider. With knees shaking, he reconsidered. And, my brother and I were left alone the rest of the day.

I wanted to be feared like Mountain Man. I wanted to be able to walk up to someone and suggest that they reconsider.

It’s funny how your perspective can change as you get older.

Today, I’m 6′ 2″. I’m probably only a few inches shy of Mountain Man’s height. I ride a cool bike. I’m told that I can be intimidating. And yet, I have no desire to be feared. If anything, I want to be seen as a man of peace. Sure, I’d still like to tell some people to reconsider, but not because they’ve angered me. I want to tell people to reconsider the choices they’re making because I see how their choice will lead them down a destructive path.

After we started Bikers’ Church, I hoped to come across Mountain Man. I met a few others who remembered the parties with my parents, but no one could tell me what happened to Mountain Man. It was only a few years ago that I learned he had died of cancer. He died alone. And suddenly, my childhood awe of Mountain Man became a sadness for how his life ended.

What kind of person do you want to be known as? What kind of person are you already known as? Sometimes the Mountain Men are not all they seem to be.

Those who’ve followed me for awhile know that I’ve been having issues with my bike. I know exactly what’s going on, but still, it’s taking longer than I had hoped to get her back on the road.

It all started when I drained my tank last fall to send my tins down to Arizona so that my friend, Jason, at HellcatCustoms could paint them. He did an amazing job, and when I got them back, I excitedly put the bike back together and filled it up with gas.

And that was my problem.

What I should have done was clean the tank first. You see, my bike (and tank) are old. I ride a 1994 Dyna WideGlide. It has over 200,000 kms. With the tank empty for five months, rust built up in it. Rust that I should have cleaned out before reinstalling it.

The rust made it through the filter and into my carb.

After trying a whole bunch of things, I finally figured out what was going on. And so, a few weeks ago, I pulled the tank back off, cleaned it out (filling it half full with soap & water, dropping in about a dozen nuts and bolts, and shaking it like mad). After it was cleaned, I “Kreemed” the tank. Basically putting a new coating inside the tank. Rust problem was solved.

Or so I thought. I still had issues with the carb. I was still getting a bit of crap in the gas. Finally, this weekend, I figured it out. The accelerator pump has a diaphragm that was breaking apart.

So, new kit is ordered and should be in tomorrow. Hopefully by this time tomorrow, the bike will be up and running like new.

So, why am I calling this post “The Bond”? Great question. Glad you asked.

During this entire ordeal, many of you have seen my comments about enjoying Heather’s bike. She has been great at letting me take out her 2002 Electra Glide whenever mine was on the fritz. I’ve probably put as many miles on her bike as on mine this year. And, I love her bike. In fact, I have basically converted over to the “couch-side” and am ready to give up the Dyna for a little more comfort.

That is until I get on my Dyna. When she’s running right, I fall in love all over again. There is a connection that I have with this bike. One that is difficult to explain. One that only a few people – those who ride – can understand. We’ve been across the U.S. together. She never let me down once during that long road trip.

As I sit here tonight, in my backyard, with the garage open, I look over at her. She’s sitting there patiently. Her carb is apart. I don’t think she’s enjoying this any more than I am. She wants to run. She wants to roar. She wants me to take her out for a good long ride.

Hopefully this week.

Still, I just finished reading a section about the movie Easy Rider, the film that started it all for many a biker. Nichols spoke often with Peter Fonda, and his insight into the real message of the movie needs to be heard even today. So, I thought I’d reprint it for you:

Most of the world didn’t get the message of the film Easy Rider. The truth is plain to see if you wade through the allegory. Captain America encapsulates the spirit of what this country was originally based upon. He is hope and the spirit of true freedom from oppression, just as Billy represents the ugly American frontier spirit and the conscienceless masses yearning to consume Mother Earth without compassion. Captain America is Thomas Jefferson’s concept of liberty, while Billy is the willingness to burn it all to the ground through mindless consumption.

The term “easy rider” is Souther slang for the old man of a whore. He doesn’t have to work, doesn’t have to pay for his sex, and gets the easy ride. The film shows us that we have collectively raped and brutalized Liberty and made her our whore. America is still about freedom, but it’s the freedom to eat more Whoppers and Big Macs while the rain forests burn. Billy thought that freedom could be bought and sold in the marketplace. You score big and you retired in Florida, mister. Captain America knew that we as a country “blew it” because we stopped being about something and just concentrated on getting that one big score.

Guess what, people. Billy won that argument. Look around you. Just as Captain America and Billy took their cash and bought two-wheeled symbols of decadence and excess, we all ride the highways – a country on luxury wheels and cell phones, a country without roots, without a tribe … lost. As such, we’re moving too fast to care about our neighbor, to raise a barn, to stop for a downed bro. We’re all on the move to get our thing together, score big, and retire in Florida, mister. Yuppiedom is the holy church of personal greed and its members are the “me” generation.

Now, here’s the surprise ending: we are racing toward our date with those rednecks in their ancient pickup truck. The sword of Damocles is poised and Liberty is dropping her scale. The lessons are staring us in the face in Easy Rider. The bikers stop to fix a flat at a farmer’s house. And then later, they stop at a commune. In both cases they meet people who are living off the land and doing their own thing in their own time. They are people who chose to be caregivers to the earth rather than takers and exploiters. The boys ride on toward their doom, refusing to stop, to take a stake and be about something, to join those who are about building something real. Over 37 years ago Peter Fonda made sure Captain America told us plainly, “We blew it.” And you know what? All these years later, when our leaders look us straight in the eyes and lie boldly, when a man is measured not by the compassion in his heart for his fellow man and Mother Earth, but by the size of his wallet and toys … we’re still blowing it, man.

Thoughts?

How is it that in 2010, people can still be so gullible that they believe everything they read, or see on television, without ever checking the facts? Is it because they are just too lazy to actually look into it? Or is it because we really do want to simply trust those who deliver the news or speak with authority?

As a preacher, I tell people all the time, “Don’t just believe something because I say it’s true. Look into it for yourself. Come to your own conclusion. If you accept something as a spiritual truth just because I’m telling you it is, then you’re foolish.” I say that because I’ve seen far too many people get hooked into cultish-type groups simply because they don’t take the time to discover spiritual truth for themselves.

Since I encourage those who sit under my teaching to do this, I don’t think I’m out of line to suggest that we do it when it comes to others who speak with authority.

Over the past week, I have found myself becoming a news-junkie again. For a season, I was hardly reading any news reports or watching much more than the half hour evening news, but this past week, I’ve been flipping back and forth between CNN and CBC. And it’s amazed me just lazy reporting has become. Much of the stuff that is reported is completely inaccurate. Other stuff contains just enough truth to make the listener buy it fully.

I understand why it’s this way. The news media needs quick, catchy headlines. They needs stories that will cause the listener to tune in. It’s all about grabbing our emotions and our attention. CBC currently has a commercial promoting their news channel. In the commercial, the question is asked, “What makes a great story?” All of the recognizable news personalities answer it with one or two words. What I found interesting is that not one of them used the words truth or accuracy in answering what makes a good story.

As I biker, I’m used to seeing inaccuracies in the media. News reports refer to motorcycle gangs even though there is no such thing. I am not aware of a single motorcycle group that refers to itself as a gang. Sensationalized headlines paint every guy riding a Harley as potential bad news. And people buy it, hook, line, and sinker.

Even the police buy into it. Now, I know a lot of great police officers. In fact, 90% of them are amazing people doing an amazing, thankless job. And yet, let’s be honest, they are indoctrinated into believing that bikers are guilty until found innocent. As a result, they truly believe they are in the right when they pull over a biker for no reason.

I know some of you think that this is a rant because I was stopped yesterday. It’s not. The officer who pulled me over was very nice. I had no issue with him. Actually, I felt sorry for him. He pulled me over for no reason other than how I looked. Yes, profiling. He truly believed that it was legitimate to use the excuse, “Just checking paperwork” as a reason for pulling over a law-abiding citizen. He could have run my license plate while following me and discovered that there are no outstanding warrants, no criminal charges, no reason to pull me over, but all he saw was a biker, and stopped me because bikers are bad.

I spoke with a member of a club this past weekend who told me about having dinner with his brother and his new girlfriend. The girlfriend asked the biker why he feels it’s okay to pimp out girls for prostitution. The biker laughed and asked her why she thought he was a pimp. She told him it was because he was a member of that club, and from what she understood, all the members of that club had prostitutes working for them. Now, this guy has a 9 to 5 job (and yes, I’ve seen him at his job). He also works two other jobs to bring in extra money. He pays taxes on all three jobs. He works like a dog. And yet, he’s painted with a brush simply because of a patch on his back.

My point in all this rambling is this: in this day and age, when there is so many ways to check out facts, why do we as a culture just accept what authorities and news outlets tell us is true? Why don’t we take the time to actually research a few things and discover truth for ourselves? I challenge people to do that with spiritual things, and I try to make the effort to do it with every other area of my life.

What about you?

We set the date for early April and sent out invites to the different groups. The response was excellent, and we waited patiently for the big day to arrive. The day before the event, the weather was looking questionable. There was a chance of flurries, and it was clearly going to be a cold day. Still, we were not expecting to wake up the morning of the Info Day to discover the worse blizzard recorded ever on that day. Snow began falling early in the morning, and by mid-morning, the ground was completely covered.

And yet, people came. By the end of the day, we estimated about 300 people came through the doors. For us, it was a huge success, and we immediately began planning next year’s event.

Four years later, the Info Day was getting stale. The numbers had not grown past the 300 or so people who attended faithfully each year. The suggestion was made that we incorporate a Swap Meet into the Info Day. But our Swap Meet would be open to the everyday Joe. We wouldn’t charge for setting up a table. And we would encourage anyone to come and sell their used stuff.

It worked. The first two years with the Swap Meet added to the event, our numbers jumped to 600. And then last year, we saw a huge increase as the event exploded, and over 1500 people attended.

We had no idea what kind of numbers we would see this year, our eighth year. There were threats of thunderstorms for the late afternoon, and yet once again, by the end of the day, we had matched last year’s numbers. It truly was incredible to us.

What makes this event so successful? I am absolutely convinced it’s all about the volunteers. Almost everyone at Bikers’ Church steps up and participates. In fact, we usually have about 90% of our membership serving during the day. Even some of those who are not members sign up and take the time to help out for the day.

Our volunteers represent us well. They work hard – incredibly hard – and they always have a smile for anyone they greet. Sure, everyone has their moment, but every volunteer comes to this event with the same goal: to serve the motorcycle community.

We do two events annually: The Info Day & Swap Meet and The Motorcycle Appreciation Day. These two events are now the second and third largest single day motorcycle events in Ottawa (the largest is Ride for DAD, an event we also serve). Imagine … a church has two of the three most attended events by the motorcycle community. I believe that says something. It says something about the people who make up The Bikers’ Church.

I am so very proud of them.

A friend send me this link the other day. In the video, you will see David Morales Colon from Puerto Rica, sitting on his CBR 600 F4. The only thing is, he’s dead. The video is from his funeral. He was embalmed, casually dressed and positioned on his bike.

Creepy? You decide.

This morning, my ride was short. Twenty minutes across town. Still, I found myself thinking.

It hit me this morning. Bikers are a dying breed. Like the cowboy, the gladiator, and the viking of the past, bikers will soon be part of our folklore. In many ways, that makes me sad. Because along with the death of the biker, I fear we may lose what the biker stood for.

Don’t get me wrong, I don’t believe this is going to happen in the next few years. It will take another generation or two before bikers are fully extinct, but we are already an endangered species. Fewer and fewer motorcyclists understands the biker attitude and code. Fewer appreciate or even care about what it means to be part of a lifestyle.

I want to be careful in how I say this, because I get very tired of the magazines and blogs that are always talking about the way it was and dismissing everything about they way it is now. However, there is a little truth in some of those observations.

There was a time when you truly felt you were connected to everyone else who rode on two wheels. If you saw another bike, you knew you were among family. Even if you were total strangers, there was a bond that brought you together. You simply got it. And you knew that they did to.

Today, many ride motorcycles because it’s the “in thing.” Or they ride them because it’s practical. They’ve thought through the reasons for owning a motorcycle and in the end, there were more “pluses” than “minuses” on the page, so they went to their local dealership and purchased a new toy. The same dealership takes care of all the maintenance on their machine, and if a newer model becomes available, they quickly upgrade to have the latest and greatest.

A biker is different. Their machine is an extension of who they are. They want to know their ride intimately. That doesn’t mean they necessarily do all their own maintenance, but they are familiar enough to know when something just doesn’t “feel right.”

A biker doesn’t ride because it’s “practical.” They ride because they have no other choice. They cannot not ride. It’s in their blood. It’s how they live. For many, it’s how they want to die … on their machine.

I wish I knew how to say what I feel today, but I’m scrambling for the right words. I guess I just sense that this culture will soon pass. People will talk about bikers they way they talk about the Wild West.

You may argue that we’ve seen this before. After the rise of the biker culture in the 60′s through late 70′s there was a season when it seemed like the biker culture was on it’s last leg. Then came the television shows of the late 90′s and 2000′s. Suddenly it was cool again. Suddenly every dealership in town was expanding. Everyone was buying a motorcycle.

But the culture didn’t really revive along with the new found interest in motorcycles. It saw a small blip as a few of those purchasing machines actually fell in love with the lifestyle. But it was a small number. We’re seeing it now. As the craze comes to an end, and those same people begin selling their bikes in order to purchase the next toy, we are discovering that those who truly became bikers were few.

Yeah, we’re a dying breed. I’m just grateful I got to experience a taste of it.

I’d love to hear your thoughts.

I did get the bike running later that day and enjoyed riding it for a few days earlier this week. Still, something wasn’t right. The bike wasn’t starting right away, and it just seemed like the battery wasn’t staying fully charged. I realized on Tuesday that my low beam wasn’t working, and so I decided to take a look at the wiring.

As I played with some of the wiring sticking out of the neck of the frame, I tripped one of Harley’s wonderful breakers. It was then that I knew I had a problem.

Yesterday, with the help of a buddy, I pulled the main wiring harness out of the frame. What we found amazed both of us. There were so many nicks in the wires, bare spots and cracks, that it was a miracle the bike ran at all! In a few cases, wires were shorting out against the frame, overheating, and melting to other wires pressed tight to them. There were dozens of wires spliced into the frame.

Some of the changes were a result of me removing all the wires from my bars a few years ago. You see, I have custom bars on my bike, and I have no wires at all on them. My signal lights and high beam switch are behind my left leg. I have no front signal lights. I have no starter or emergency off button. However, many of the wires that once connected to those things were hiding in the frame. Along with those wires, there were other wires customized by the previous owner.

The previous owner, a friend of mine, had suggested when I bought the bike from him that I should invest in a new wiring harness. Some of the wires were getting brittle, and it was only a matter of time before they began to wear through. It was one of those “I should do that some time” things, but there were other more pressing matters to use my finances on, so the new wiring never happened.

As I pulled the harness out of the bike and began to run fresh, new wires to only the needed connections, I was reminded again how so much of motorcycling parallels the rest of life. As a minister, I’m inclined to think of the spiritual aspect of life, and my mind wandered there a little.

How is your spiritual wiring? Perhaps you first plugged in as a kid when your parents or grandparents dragged you off to some boring church service. Are you still using the same connections? If so, my guess is they’ve become brittle and there’s like a few exposed wires. Perhaps they’re shorting out the rest of the system. Perhaps they’re simply causing things to run a little rough.

Every once in a while it’s healthy to take another look at how you’re wired. You may not have to yank out the entire wiring harness, but maybe it’s time to replace a few wires, to make sure the connection to God is good. I began my spiritual journey 27 years ago. During that time, I have done a lot of rewiring. I still do.

What about you? Time to look at how you’re wired again?

Let me make it clear that the picture was taken during the road trip I enjoyed last Fall. I can’t remember what State I was in when I took the picture, but it was either Colorado, Arizona, or New Mexico. All of which do not require those over the age of 17 to wear a helmet (See Helmet laws by State). Here in Ontario (like the rest of Canada), I am required by law to wear a helmet, and I do.

I don’t like wearing a helmet. I know that some of you have just written me off for saying such a thing. But, I don’t. If I had my way, I would ride helmetless all the time (except maybe in very cold weather or when it’s raining hard, then I’d prefer a full face). I don’t like the fact that the government has decided that I must wear a helmet for my own safety while riding.

Now, I know that some of you will want to toss out to me all the reports and articles that suggest wearing a helmet could save my life. It’s not the point. Those who fall back on the studies really don’t get it. If we’re going to argue that riders should wear a helmet for safety, then we should make it a law that they were full leathers as well. Heck, let’s just outlaw riding motorcycles all together, since we all know that you are more likely to die in a motorcycle accident than in a car accident. No, this isn’t about safety.

Others will argue that riders should be forced to wear a helmet because those who don’t will cost everyone when our health care system has to take care of them as they lay in a coma in a hospital bed. Again, if that’s your argument, then simply outlaw motorcycles completely and you’ll save even more. At the same time, outlaw smoking and gluttony, since those two vices cost taxpayers far more than any motorcyclist ever has.

You see, the issue is about choice. Every time our government introduces a new law (no matter what that law is about), we remove a little more “choice.” Freedom becomes a little less … free. Some laws are good. They protect innocent people from stupid people. Some laws are intended to protect people from themselves. And I have an issue with most of those laws.

Some argue that I should wear a helmet all the time because I am a “role model” to many within the motorcycle community. I say that if you choose to take off your helmet because I choose to take mine off, then you’re an idiot. You should probably hand in your motorcycle license until you can learn to ride for yourself and not for others.

You see, I’ve counted the cost. I’ve talked it over with my family. I’m comfortable with the risk. And, when possible, I choose to ride without a helmet. I love the feeling of freedom I experience when cruising down an open road with the wind blowing in my hair. It’s a choice I make. It’s a choice I should be free to make.

I wish Ontario would reconsider the helmet law. I know they wont. I would be shocked if there will ever be the day when I can ride without a helmet here at home. Perhaps the only way the law could change is if they introduced a waiver that riders could purchase. The government could make money by giving us the freedom to choose. But, unfortunately, far too many people think the government’s role is to protect us from ourselves. And far too many of us simply let them.

Until then, I’ll take my trips to the U.S. and find those areas that allow me to unhook my helmet, and ride free.

Look forward to your comments.