One day, a little boy came home from school and was just awestruck by a bright and shiny Honda Goldwing motorcycle sitting in front of their house. The chrome and the bright paint job were about the coolest thing this little boy had ever seen. After admiring the bike for a short while, the boy ran into the house to see who was there. Apparently, a biker friend of the family and his wife had come to visit.
The man stood tall and proud with a long flowing beard, and wearing his leather bikers vest, with leather biker boots. He stood beside a beautiful woman, his wife. She had long flowing brown hair, and the kindest smile that the boy had ever seen. She too was adorned in the biker leather that the man so proudly wore. The little boy was so impressed by this biker couple, that he stayed glued to their sides the entire length of their visit. The bikers told wonderful tales of adventure from the road as the little boy dreamed of one day having similar adventures of his own. Finally, as the bikers stood to leave, the little boy asked... "What can I do to become a real biker??" The man bent down to the little boy, smiled and said:
"Son, there are four very important things that you must do in order to become a "real" biker.
- Ride on a motorcycle any time you can, any one will do!
- Don't worry what people think about you. You will have enough hurdles in life without letting other people put more of them in front of you.
- Live by your own rules as long as they hurt no one else
- Know that none of your rules apply to anyone but else but you!"
The little boy didn't fully understand all of this, but he never forgot the bikers words. For many, many years after that he saved his allowance to buy his first motorcycle. Finally, as a boy of jr. high school age, he was able to afford a small used dirt bike. Now this was no street bike, but it was all he could afford. Best of all it was all his, and he loved it! He would ride that bike from sun up until sun down. Some nights when he just couldn't bring himself to give up riding for the day, he would duct tape a flashlight to the handlebars in order to keep riding well into the night. Upon outgrowing that little dirt bike, he sold it with the intention of one day buying another. Well, days turned into weeks, and weeks turned into months, and months turned into years.
Finally, many years later, the boy (now a man) graduated law school and started a very successful practice. Shortly after that, he bought himself a brand new Harley Davidson. He loved that Harley, and put thousands of dollars worth of chrome and custom paint into it. He and his other lawyer buddies would cruise the boulevard on their Harleys going from bar to bar, or just hanging out in front of the local coffee shop. He and his friends would hang out together talking about their Harley's, and about riding, and laughing at anyone who rode jap-crap or anything other than the expensive Harley Davidson's that they rode.
One day, on his way home from the local biker bar, he saw an elderly man come out of a grocery store. The old man had been working the late shift bagging groceries. He staggered up to an old Honda Goldwing. The original side bags were missing and had been replaced by milk crates, plywood, and zip ties. The trunk was missing and had been replaced by an old worn leather footlocker. The windshield was yellow with age and cracking. The paint was so old and oxidized that it was difficult to determine what color it had been, and the seat was covered with an old towel and some duct tape.
The lawyer watched in awe as the old man slowly removed his apron and stowed it in one of the milk crates. Then he removed a pair of worn cotton gloves from the footlocker, and slowly pulled them on. As he prepared to throw a leg over, you could tell that arthritis had taken it's toll over the years, and that this had become quite a painful task. But as soon as he swung his leg over, and settled into that saddle, something magical happened. The years they seemed to melt away. His smile returned as he pulled out the choke and fired up his old steed. She roared to life in that familiar way that she must have thousands of times before. Then, just before he pulled away, he reached down behind him and lowered the passenger pegs, as if to prepare for a passenger to board his steed with him. Finally, as the old man pulled his goggles down over his eyes, he shot a little wave and roared off into the night.
Now he never could be quite sure, but the lawyer could swear that as the old man pulled away, that the old Goldwing looked brand new once again. Chrome shining, and a beautiful bright paint job, with crisp lines and solid tune. A young man at the controls, with his beard waving in the wind, and a beautiful smiling young lady behind him with flowing long brown hair laughing as they rode off into the night.
The lawyer slowly wiped a tear from his cheek and composed himself for the ride home. He knew full well, that out there somewhere the old man rode in the night with his pegs down for his long-since-gone wife, and he was happy once again. Then and only then did he really understand the words spoken by that biker to him so many years ago
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