|
Why We Ride (2013)
The sun in your face, the sound
of the motor and the vibration, the unobscured view of everything that's going on around you. It's a bombardment of the senses. I just love it, I just enjoy being on a bike. The cliche of feeling the wind in your hair, even though I don't have much hair anymore, is very true. It's just... It's a wonderful feeling. It's a built-in passion to ride a motorcycle, no matter what it is. It's unlike anything else that you'll ever feel. There's nothing in my life that's like it. It's part of who I am, and what I want to be. Motorcycle riding is such a filter for the brain for me. I always end up singing while I'm riding because it's just me and my bike and I'm just enjoying myself and not really thinking about anything else. Some people paint, some people sew, some people listen to music. I get on a motorcycle and that really puts my mind at ease. It's a high, it's a good high, and it's one that you can get addicted to. In a spiritual sense you could almost say, Namaste, you know, it's that blending of the soul of the motorcycle and you and it's just this perfect moment. Everybody that rides a motorcycle that's been around for a while has got a personal connection to their motorcycle It's a person unto itself. We all dream about flying. Well, when you ride a motorcycle, you are flying. You're flying through space at the twist of a throttle. When you ride motorcycles, people always say hi to each other, you know, you don't see people who drive cars waving at everybody in a car. They all have a bond, and it's a bond that they share by desire. The common denominator is two wheels. They are people that'll bend over backwards to help ya. You're not going to leave a comrade on the side of the road without offering to help 'em. There are some of the nicest people I've ever met, are motorcyclists, hands down. Being a motorcycle guy cuts across every job description, and you identify yourself with being a motorcyclist, first and foremost, before you're a doctor, before you're an actor, before you're a newspaper tycoon, you're a motorcycle guy. And that really levels the playing field with a lot of people. So you're talking to a guy about bikes and then you find out that this guy's a neurosurgeon, and you're, like, "Huh, I thought he was just some guy who rode a Honda. " If you ever get on that bike, president of a bank, a leader of a country, you're in. You could get out of work totally angry, take a little ride, and boy you don't get two miles down the road, and all of a sudden, you've let go of all of that stress, all that anxiety, and now you're... you're free. In my view people travel in bubbles, a lot. The motorcycle gets you out of the bubble. We can't know where we're going if we don't know where we've been. In the old days, you know, there were thousands of people that came out to watch the motorcycle races. Some of the greatest riders of all time, Ben Campanelli, Jimmy Phillips, Bobby Hill and Bill Tuman, and Ernie Beckman. Ed Kretz. Ed Kretz was my hero. They were badass, they were real men. Like rodeoing, there was no money in it, there was no prestige in it, you did it because you liked doing it. I would have loved to have been around during that era. You know, it was just throw it all out there. It was a great time in racing for sure. It's about tradition, I wanna keep those stories alive. I don't want these people to be forgotten. I think it's important to preserve the lineage. I mean, it's kinda funny, you go out and buy a brand-new motorcycle, it's hard to think that that has roots that go back to 1901. Motorcycles literally were, you know, bicycles that somebody finally came up with the idea of putting an engine in it. Kind of like the peanut butter and jelly story, you know. It's like, I think maybe these two things might work. Of course, if you got an engine in a motorcycle, the next thing is you gotta start racing it. When racing really got going in the U.S. was through board track racing. Small, circular, banked wooden track. Literally just strips of wood laid end to end. And all these bicycle racings, they used a pacer, that they followed behind, which was a motorized, big, clumsy bicycle. And then the bicyclists would actually be in the draft. And the pacer would get to a certain speed, peel off, and then the racers would start. Someone came up along the way one time, with, like, an intermission. "Why don't we put all the pacers out on the track, let them have their own race?" And they did that, and I guess it went over pretty well, but then it wasn't long they realized the bikes themselves could go faster, so they made them a little less big and bulky. That's the premise for the Indian Company, the Hendees. They were bicycle racers and created this motorized bicycle to help set faster and faster speeds. Then, you know, here came Harley-Davidson and companies that, uh, went into production on the whole thing. There were more than a hundred motorcycle manufacturers just in the United States. Some of the designs of some of these engines were completely insane. They leaked. They smelt like a beast. You couldn't go to the local store and have someone work on it. You had to have a basic understanding of 'em. Which means that anybody who had these early bikes, you know, it wasn't a convenience, it was a dedication. It was all about the racing and, predominantly, the two major bike companies were Harley versus Indian. And these guys were out there with these bikes with no brakes, going around the track, close to a 100 miles an hour. You've gotta be kidding me, horrible tires, horrible chassis, lots of horsepower, how do you manage that stuff, you know? Well, you just do it until you crash and then you figure out where to go from there. It was a very dangerous sport. If they went off the outside of the track, they went through the fence and flew through the air, into who knows what. A lot of, lot of good racers and young men died racing. Until Henry Ford did his thing, cars were basically for the wealthy. So a young enterprising man, who was a working man, a working family, his dream would be to buy a motorcycle and a sidecar. My great-grandfather, Fritzie Baer, had a '23 Chief with a sidecar. Brought his pregnant wife to the hospital in a motorcycle and a sidecar, and the newborn baby came home... in the sidecar. Over the next five years, she had another three more children, and all four of us were brought home in that side car. You would had to have lived through the Depression to know what the period was like. People didn't have a lot of money. I can remember when a can of pork and beans and a roll was a wonderful meal, I'm not kidding. Fun was hard to come by. Entertainment was expensive. As people got into motorcycling and the club, the club itself became their entertainment. And this club with Fritzie running it, there was all kinds of things to do. They were busy, you know, four or five nights a week. They went out on these little rides. It just went on and on. And, of course, back then you got dressed up. You dress and act like a gentleman, or you got fined. And if you couldn't abide by the rules... you're out. And people are begging to get in. Always had a waiting list for members. And then once they started with the auxiliary, now it became joint affairs. Now we had boys meeting girls. And you know how that works out. After the Depression, it was hard to keep those big factory things kinda going in those years, and the AMA got together with the manufacturer and said, "Let's create a form of racing that would be more production bikes. " So they started this thing called Class C. And it was a bike that was based on production model bikes, and it was basically built around Indians and Harley-Davidsons. You can't know about racing, you can't know about Daytona, and not know who Ed Kretz is. What Ed was, was really one of the first champions of that Class C era. He won all the big races. He was always known as "Iron Man Kretz. " He was so determined, when he got on he was either gonna break the damn thing or win the race, that was it. Kretz would not stand for anything other than total victory, and anything other than that was a failure. When you look at it that way, that's when you get very successful. Ed tried to pass everybody, so in case anything went wrong, you had time to fix it and still win. That was his idea how to race. When Ed Kretz finished a race, they actually had to pry his fingers off of the handlebars, because he physically couldn't do it. He'd been holding for so long, for the last hundred miles, going as fast as he could, they had to pry him off the cycle. Dad, when he would ride, he would just do nothing but ride, and you could tell by looking at him, that that's all he was thinking. One of the things that Ed told me a long time ago that really stuck in my mind, first of all, "When everybody else is letting up to go into the corner, I just grabbed a handful of throttle and that's where I would pass everybody. " And, boy, that just... It sounded so hairy and so bold, but that was Ed Kretz, man. He was the Iron Man. Dad had a job driving a hay truck, truck and trailer. That's where my dad made his money. He loaded it by himself and he unloaded by himself. That's what gave him all this upper-body strength. Not only was he in great physical condition, but also mentally. He'd do 18-hour days, 20-hour days, and then go right back in and do it again. He would come over on his motorcycle and he used to do a lot of stunts and he would stand on his head or stand on the seat, and just kinda showing off in front of her, you know, and... That's how he met my mother, on a motorcycle. Race, race, race, every day. When he wasn't on the truck, he was on the motorcycle. Oh, she was for it, she was always with him, always with him. He'd take Mom, they'd ride to where the race was gonna be, he'd take off the headlight, he'd take everything off the bike, and have it just bare, you know, so he could race. And so Mom would just stand there and watch the stuff and Dad would race, he'd put it all back together, they'd get on it and head home. My father was very business, but when it came time to be home, he was home. He was just there any time you needed something, or he would go out of his way to help ya, you know. We had such a good time as kids. So many cheerful rides. I miss it terribly. Ed Kretz did some pretty amazing things, and he did it basically on the same motorcycle. It was a little Sport Scout. With that same bike, he won the last Savannah, Georgia race, which, at the time, was a massive race. He won the first Laconia ever on that bike, which is a massive race, and he won the first Daytona. Ed Kretz and those guys racing at Daytona, on the sand? Seriously? Who does that? I mean, and how do they go that fast? I wanna know. And then Daytona become the biggest race of the year for motorcycling. The real tough part about Daytona, which would put most of the people out of the race, was either coming down the straightaway and going into the north turn, you started getting into the loose, chopped-up sand, and then also transitioning from the sand onto pavement, you know, you got the little sandy stretch there, where you've got pavement with sand all over it and there's a lot of guys spinning out, coming through that, or where they'd stuck in a little rut and everything, and then same thing at the other end. The beach course went from when Ed won in 1937 and it went through 1960. Ed's winning Daytona, it was a big deal. From that point forward, that beach has never been the same. It's motorcycling history. You know, I feel so fortunate that I'm a person who was there, when some of these fellas won, riding on the beach. Daytona kinda paved the way that you were a road racer. It's the ultimate test of man and machine. Two hundred miles, flat out, as hard as you can go, and may the best man win. You know, you see it on TV and you don't realize just how big that place is. It's the first race of the year, everyone's got all these expectations of what's gonna happen. That was the race, I mean, if you could win Daytona, that was the race. There's a certain air that surrounds it that to me is a bit magical. It's like you get to be a part of something a lot bigger than yourself. The history and the vibe and the feel around the race track. If you can get your name in that history book, that's a pretty big deal. Tradition is everything and the Daytona 200 is one of those ones, it's like you gotta chalk it up. You've gotta win the Daytona 200, it's the ultimate. It's every racer's dream to get up on the banks of Daytona. To sit in the grandstands and feel those motorcycles fly by you, then to hear their exhaust and everyone cheering, and... It's a blast. It was huge. I mean, I won the 200. Not too many people can say they have. My father won the race in 1948, but to this day we still remain the only father and son to have won Daytona. It's definitely my proudest moment, winning the Daytona 200. I was probably six years old when I saw a minibike, and, I mean, I was hooked right then. I saw somebody riding down the road on a motorcycle, and I was, as the Brits say, gobsmacked, I just... and that was it. My brother had a minibike when he was about ten years old, and I was forbidden to ride it, and so I made it my life's mission to be able to ride that bike. I'm want to say that I was about ten or 11 the first time I put a leg over a minibike. - I was 16. - Fifteen or 16. - Thirteen years old. - Twelve. Eleven years old. - Eleven years old. - Ten years old. - Six or seven. - Five years old. Five. It was just a little minibike. Minibike. Minibike. Minibike. Minibike. Minibike. Minibike. My dad hit it lucky in Vegas and bought my brother a car and bought me a Whizzer. - CZ 125. - S90 Honda. - Suzuki DS 80. - YZ 80 Yamaha. - ATC 70. - CZ 250. - PW50. - It's called a Taco. - Honda 50. - A little scooter, it was called a Corgi. We weren't rich or nothing, so I built a minibike out of a bicycle frame and a lawnmower motor. With a lawnmower engine, Briggs & Stratton. Back in the day you put the rope on it and pull it. I don't think it had a name, I think somebody built it in their garage. We need to rename what we called motorcycles back then. They should have been renamed, you know, "the things that we hid from our parents. " When I was young, my dad didn't want me to have anything to do with motorcycles. They absolutely did not approve of me riding a motorcycle. - "That's for bad people. " - OK... but I'm riding. My mom didn't know when I bought my first bike, I kept it at my friend's house down the street. That's such a cliche. I've run into so many people that could tell that same story. We're in the St. Helene's parking lot, thank God it was a church, and, uh, that's where I popped my first wheelie, because I hadn't learned the clutch yet. And I panicked, got whiskey throttle, next thing I knew, I took off. Boom-bity boom-bity boom, across the field. How do you stop it, how do you stop it? And the first time I got on it they just told me to take off, so I took off, hit a tree. Went wide open into the chainlink fence, wrapped all up in it. And it was a house down there, and we hit the corner of the house. It had no brakes. The only way we could figure out how to stop it was to run it into my dad's work truck. So we didn't have it very long. He took that away. I think it's like trying to learn how to play a violin. It's just hideous and then all of a sudden it's like, "Oh, my God, I know how to ride this thing now. " I mean, I literally rode it for about a minute and a half, and I went, "OK, I have to do that. " The first time I rode that little minibike, I just felt like I could do anything. I was so excited to know that I was going to ride my bike the next day, and I still feel that today, every day. I just hope to God that I can always have the sensation, and I guess when I'm not, I'll be talking and dreaming about it all the time. I'll be taking a lot of naps just so I can see it in my dreams. I met Bret and I went home that day and I said, "Just to let you guys know, I met my future husband. " Sharing my passion with the person that I'm gonna spend the rest of my life with, means the world to me. I used to race out of Willow Springs WSMC. I was out there minding my own business, and then he asked me out to dinner and I said no. But she was really hungry, so she went. So I relented when I realized I'd spent all my money on tires, and I was like, "Well, at least I'll get a meal out of this. " I actually met my wife at a race track. I met her at, uh, at Little Talladega Gran Prix Raceway. We met at the snack stand, she was working there, serving hamburgers, and I ate about 15 hamburgers that weekend. I took my then girlfriend, now my wife, up in the San Joaquin Valley. We stopped at a little stand to pick some cherries. As I'm riding down my motorcycle, she's biting the cherry, pulling the pits out and feeding them to me. I'll still remember that to this day. Uh... It was just one of the most romantic things we've ever done. Motorcycling has a very bad reputation. When my grandpa first got involved, they'd pull up to restaurants, they'd pull up to hotels, and they wouldn't be allowed in. You'd pull up on a bike and they'd turn the sign around. Pretty much you were considered an outlaw. It goes way back to, what was that movie, The Wild One, with Marlon Brando, when bikers were bad, you know. You wore black leather and you took over the town, and you ran the sheriff off, and attacked the women. They didn't like the motorcycles there for a long time. And, of course, along come Honda. There was a great PR campaign that Honda did at that time, and it was, "You meet the nicest people on a Honda. " It changed a lot of the image back again. And that kinda brought it more into the mainstream, suddenly it's the moms and dads, the kids next door, and the neighbor down the street. People just started buying these things, because they were accessible, they didn't have to go and buy, you know, a six-, seven- 800-pound motorcycle. They were smaller, they were lighter, they were nicely designed. They were damn cute. It was a good move, I think somebody at Yamaha was like, "We shoulda went with the nice people thing. " Everybody could ride a Honda, a little Honda. God. Almost everybody that learns to ride was taught by their friend or neighbor, you know, and whatever false information, misinformation, bad habits that friend or neighbor had are passed on from learner to learner. We come equipped with a certain number of survival reactions. We do something like put our hands out to cushion a fall, whereas if you roll, you won't break your wrists. There are about eight or nine of these responses that we have to situations that are just a little bit out of our control. Each and every one of these are contrary to what you should be doing at that time. The California Superbike School is a running research project on how to understand and control a motorcycle. Now it's expanded into about 50 different areas, where we can make corrections on specific areas of skill and control of the motorcycles. Street riding is great, but track riding is way better. It's so much more fun because you don't have all of the distractions, restrictions. A student we had up at Sears Point, up in Sonoma, 26 years he'd been riding, ridden 1.2 million miles. At the end of the day he said, "You know, I thought I had 26 years of experience, now I realize I had one year of experience 26 times. " It's so fulfilling, there is no other job better than this. Motorcycles are what taught me everything about how things work. Tearing down the motor on my first Honda CL-90 and not being able to put it back together. I had a handful of cafe racers, none of which really resonated with me until I built my first Indian, and that was a 1926 Indian that I built with my grandfather. You nurture it, you love it, it grows, you develop it, you restore it, and then finally it's done. It was a great experience to hang out with your grandfather and work side by side with him. We started collecting motorcycles about the same time we started making wine. One became a hobby and one is a business. We appeal to a different crowd. The motorcycle riders, they have a different spirit about 'em, and they usually have an appreciation for the arts. Being an artisanal winery, it goes hand in hand. It's people from all walks of life. We all share the same passion, same desire, to bring these older bikes back to life and to really admire the simplicity of them, the lines. The old bikes just have this character to 'em. The feeling of firing a vintage bike is unique. There is no electric start, you don't push a button and they go. You may have to kick it, you may have to play with the carburetor. It's very emotional to get one of those bikes running and hear the open exhaust. And they sound incredible. Anyone that's out there that has a motorcycle, you always try to customize it, make it yours, whether you buy one right off the showroom floor, whether you buy a used one off of somebody, most people want to add a little something to it to make it their own. You customize your bike 'cause it's personal. People don't like to be like everybody else exactly, you know. And it's not just here in the U.S., we see it worldwide, we see it in Europe, we see it throughout Asia. People want to be noticed. The most reward that people get from it is a slap on the back at the bar when they went off and had bragging rights and showed off their bike. They're all extensions of our own personality. Helmets are a great canvas to experiment with. I get to reach into the soul of the athletes and the racers, and, you know, feel what they're feeling hopefully and then transfer that onto their helmet. What I try to do and push all of my artists is to give them something they're not expecting. We're art-driven company and it's gotta be something they go, "Wow," you know, and I'm OK for half the people out there to go, "I would never wear that, you know. " I want it to be the piece that people talk about. Back in the day when I started shooting bikers, there was a directness that I felt, that they were experiencing life in a big way. I like culture and I like character, and bikers are full of character and full of life. I don't know how many times I've ridden with him, and he's riding with no hands and shooting. Now, of course, that's not the safest way to be shooting. The back of a two-wheeled motorcycle works great, and so, I know in the last few years I've done more then 10,000 miles backwards. I have a photograph of somebody riding through a storm, I call the photograph "Storm Rider. " And I've seen bikers and they grab their girlfriend and they say, "Do you remember that? That's me. I came back and I told you all about it, that's me in that photograph. " I think it brings back for them that feeling of riding through a storm, and feeling the elements and feeling the beauty around them. People see themselves in it. - Everything happens in California first. - Saddleback Park. - Orange County Raceway. - Hopetown. - LACR. - Muntz Park. - Ontario Motor Speedway. - Big Bear Hare and Hound. - Bay Mare. - The coolest place in the world, that was Indian Dunes. That's were we started promoting our first races. But it was the first place that everybody remembers. I spent probably five days a week out there. - It was just a way of life. - A lot of families out there, everybody would come out and more like a potluck-type thing, and build a big bonfire and have a good time. Indian Dunes had something else. It had a river running down through it, it had the hills, it had the sand wash. There was some vibe that the other places just didn't have. In the '70s, the club racing scene in California was good, it was really, really good. It didn't take too long of riding a motorcycle, where I discovered I could do this better than my friends could. And I rode it and it ran great, and I rode it, and he goes, "That kid's gotta go on the racetrack. " My fondest memories for sure are racing motorcycles. Everybody is your friend when we're on the track with the camaraderie, and also the competition, because when we have our helmet on, we're racing. Racing to me makes everything else I do easy. Because racing is one of the toughest things in the world. There's some guys, the competitive spirit in them is so intense, they have to race. There's no getting away from it, it becomes part of your life, it gets in your blood. If you're looking up to anybody, they're gonna beat you on the racetrack, so you can't look up to anyone. Growing up, I was always really competitive at everything I did, having four brothers. As soon as I got on a racetrack, if there's someone in front of you, you want to pass 'em. I can see a corner and I can imagine the line of how that turn needs to happen, and then on the first try I can go out and make that happen. When I did my first race it was like that moment, you know, where the angels sing, and you realize this is the thing that makes me happy. Hillclimbing has been going on since the 1920s. It's a time trial, so you're basically competing against yourself and the clock. Making the hill is one thing, but you gotta make it fast. Fastest person to the top wins. You don't really have anybody else around you and you just go for it. You're running very hard up the hill and to have a lot of obstacles, a lot of jumps, a lot of cliff faces. You gotta know how to take turns, you gotta know how to hit jumps like on a motocross track. It's not you against the other guy, it's you against a mountain. It's pretty crazy. A lot of our hills are incredibly steep, some of them are past vertical, and when you tell somebody that you're going up a hill with a motorcycle that's past vertical, they're going, "No, that's not happening. " Well, it is. The first time up and over is just awesome. You just want to turn around and yell at everybody. All of our bikes are all handmade. A lot of the classes you have kind of free reign on choosing either chains, or bolts, or disc paddles. Putting your leg over a 220-horsepower, nitro-injected bike with steel spikes on the back of it, driving it up the hill, it scares a lot of people. X Climb got started up in Northern California. The gate drops, and you battle bar-to-bar all the way to the top of the hill, which is something new to the sport. It's my release, it's my medicine in this crazy world. Bonneville is like being on the surface of the moon. Bonneville changed my life. Bonneville. That one word sends chills up people's spines. This is it, this is the Holy Grail, everybody in the world knows Bonneville. You're on this fast, smooth, white surface that's flat in every direction. Salt stuck to everything, the cycle was covered with it. Well, I went one time and I got the salt fever. You have to experience lining up, to know what it's all about. Butterflies, always, always, filled with butterflies. Sometimes you forget to put it in gear. All the old-timers say when you're at the starting line, you can feel the spirit of all the people that were there before you. You feel everybody's spirit there. And I'm like, "Yeah, yeah, yeah, yeah," and so I get up there to the line, and I'm like, "Wow, this is incredible. " It still kind of gets me. And the fastest man has gone on the planet was right there. It's you and your motorcycle, that's it. You're not racing next to someone, you're not rushing to get off the light. When you're ready you take off. Bonneville is a 10-mile course, and you're at full speed, 200 miles per hour, for three or four miles. It's a very powerful place to be. Everything goes into slow motion. I get to turn it wide open and hold it as long as I think I can do it. You look at these guys today, they're the same mindset of the guys that were flying the P-51 Mustangs and Corsairs. It's that seat-of-the-pants, "tell me how to start the thing and I'll figure out the rest. " Chuck Yeager, did the guy have a clue what was gonna happen on the other side of the sound barrier? He didn't. Did it matter? No. It's like going to Bonneville, it's the same thing. It becomes a really personal thing with your motorcycle. To go that fast you need to be one with the bike, be the paint, be a sponge. I came to a point with that first bike that I raced, that I didn't know if it was the bike holding me back or me holding the bike back. So we started switching around motorcycles, and found out I could go a little faster, but... So I just, um, took off, twisted the throttle and took off and got a land speed record in the first two passes. My first land speed record was set on a 1946 Indian Chief, and that bike is still ready, sitting and waiting to go get another record. We've had the 1000cc turbo charge record since last year. By the end of last year, we had it at 245, this year we went back with some changes in September and we set the record at 262.4, which is now the fastest sit-on motorcycle record in the world. Setting the record this year is a phenomenal thing. People say, "What's it like to be the fastest in the world?" I said, "Well, that and $3.95 gets you a cup of coffee at Starbucks. " On the way home after that first year, after they saw it, I said, "Well, what do you think, girls, is that something you'd want to try?" And before I had it out of my mouth, they were like, "Yeah, we want to do it. " It's kinda hard sitting on the sidelines and just watching when you're a bike freak too. First of all you either have to either have a mom crazy enough to let her daughters do it, or vice versa. And we became the first mother-daughter-daughter trio in history to hold records at the same time. It's so amazing that her kids can do what she does, and, you know, they have fun at it. All of 'em do. I think there's something about riding a motorcycle that's really empowering. I really like riding my own a whole lot better than I ever liked riding on the back of a motorcycle. The difference between being a passenger and being a rider is everything. I mean, most of fellas today who ride, they want their women to ride. Being a wife, and a worker, and a mother, when I get on my bike, the wind just kind of takes it. I mean, you see two bikes in a row, one's a guy, one's a woman. Women and racing has come a long ways. There's more women riding now and a larger percent of them are going racing. And they would get on these bikes that would scare some normal men. Well, there's all those great women that have paved the way for us. I didn't think of 'em as men and women, I just wanted to race. Women, you know, 20, 30 years ago that wanted to get into racing, they faced actual real barriers. I wanted to ride with the guys on the track and beat 'em, but I couldn't, because women didn't do it then. You say I can grow up to be anything I want to be, I can do anything I want to do, so why is there a line drawn in the sand? You definitely see a lot more women out there now, trying it, and encouraging other women to do it. Oh, women are taking over. I say five, ten years, they'll be more women riding than men, because women are tougher, you know. I learned that I needed to slide the bike without using brakes, 'cause every time you'd use the brakes to skid around, it'd slow you down. You know, I didn't want that, I wanted to stay fast all the time. Flat track racing is probably one of the best places to build that skill set, because it's all about controlling traction. I was in Indianapolis the first year they had MotoGP there, and they had the Indie Mile, which is a famous dirt track race, and they took the MotoGP riders to see the dirt track riders, and they were like, "That's crazy, how are they doing that?" That's where so many successful road racers have come from. The American racers like Kenny Roberts, they always had to do both so they could ride dirt track. Because of the dirt track experience, I started hitting my knee on the ground. You talk to any one of these guys and they'll tell you the reason why they became a good Grand Prix rider, is because sliding a motorcycle didn't intimidate them. I started winning. At that point, I just started winning races, so everybody is now trying to play catch-up. That's where the whole back wheel sliding thing kind of took off. Yeah, Kenny was a pioneer in a lot of ways. And when I got to Europe, it kind of multiplied. He was the guy that just went over there and showed those Europeans, "Hey, us Americans can ride motorcycles, too. " People are fascinated to watch a racer drag a knee, and now they're dragging elbows. You know, when I drag my elbow, it's part of the crash. Every sport has its pinnacle, football, it's the National Football League, in baseball, it's Major League Baseball. Motorcycle racing, the pinnacle is MotoGP. Over in Europe, it's huge. It's the most evolved, most technically advanced motorcycles in the world, and arguably the best riders in the world. Every rider wants to be in that show. I don't think the talent is any less than it was years ago, but the bikes have become so technical today, that it really requires a completely different type of a rider to master the bikes, because you're mastering electronics now as well as mechanicals. I wanted to have the world, and going round it is one way to do that, and I was thinking should I do it on a donkey or a skateboard or... ...or something, and I thought a motorcycle would be a really good way to do it. That was when everything in my life changed completely. I was quite sure nobody had ever done it, because I didn't know anybody who rode bikes, and there was no Google. I'm neither brave nor strong, and so I realized that you don't need strength and bravery to be able to do this, you just need the determination to do it. It got rid of all my anxieties. I can't think of a better way of changing your life than to lose fears and anxieties, I mean, that's the... that's the main thing. I wasn't counting miles, I wasn't even counting countries, I was just going 'round the world. There were people where there shouldn't have been any. I was like Lawrence of Arabia coming out of the desert. So I had these very immediate and intense relationships with people all the way around, and carried stories from one to another. I don't know how I can convey the sheer excitement that I was feeling almost the whole time about being able to do this. It's the interruptions that are the journey, not where you're going. I swear that never in those four years did I ever wish that the journey was over. I really wasn't suited to being home. I was more comfortable on the floor than in a bed. I couldn't do small talk. I couldn't believe what was obsessing people. The problems they were having seemed be absurd, you know. Why were they worried about that? Things weren't going right for them, they were getting in all sorts of turmoil. And I thought, it's... nothing. You're alive, what else do you need? I have great trouble coming to terms with social media. I simply don't understand how people have the time to be so involved in the lives of so many people, and I can't imagine how their interest in those people can be anything but superficial. The advantage of the technology in this world is that if you have a really good idea about what it is you want to achieve, the technology can generally make it a lot easier. The disadvantage is that having all this technology probably doesn't encourage people to have very great ideas about things to do, because it's so easy to just swim along with the current. So I went on home from Vietnam. I was depressed and I was miserable and I was angry, like a lot of us, and I just couldn't settle down. It was nobody's problem but my own. And I looked at Israel as a country that had something together, they had just fought the 1973 war, the Yom Kippur War. And, uh, and I said, "I want a part of that. " I served two years, and then I went on to be in the Rhodesian Light Infantry, then I went on to South Africa. I served in a special organization, the parachute brigade called the Pathfinder Company. August 29th, 1981, about 100 miles up inside Angola, we were in light vehicle operations and, uh... ...the light vehicle I was in, was a Toyota Land Cruiser, which was a firing platform for heavy machine guns, 250-caliber Brownings. And, um, the left rear wheel of that vehicle - initiated a Soviet-made TM-57 anti-tank mine. - When that mine went off, the last thing I ever heard in my left ear was "pop," and I watched the vehicle going away. And I said to myself, "We've hit a mine, I'm dead, and I'll be answering for my life in front of God very soon. " Well, God had other ideas. And I was transported down to one military hospital, Pretoria, South Africa in a medevac transport, where I was to spend the next nine months and 18 days. During that time, I underwent 20 operations. All right. And it left me... And four of those operations were amputations, which left me with my right leg off... ...above the knee, and my left leg off just below. I got out of the Army, and I went home to my mom and dad. After a very touching reunion, I was out in the garage having a reunion with something to that time now I'd owned ten years, and that was a 1972 Harley-Davidson Wide Glide. Within a few days, my dad and I, we had it out of the mothballs, we had it cleaned up, we had it all put back together, and we knew we were gonna have to fix the rear brake for the mechanical knee. So we extended the brake pedal, we put overload springs on it, my dad welded a stirrup on that pedal, where my foot would sit on the brake all the time. The overload springs compensated for the weight of the leg, and the idea was, when I was driving, I would push on the stump, that would push on the leg, that would push on the brake, that would stop the motorcycle. And it works most of the time. Ask my passengers. And I got out to the freeway, and I just let go. And I cannot tell you the wonderful feeling of being on that machine, after four years overseas in some of the most hateful, angry places this world has to offer, you know, and all of the sudden I'm moving on my machine again. What I felt was something that was so far beyond words, I can't tell you, you know. And all of a sudden something hit me in the top of the head and say... It was a vision. It said, "Why don't you ride... you need to ride this thing around the world for those that are more unfortunate than you, especially in the Third World countries where they don't have access to positive examples, like we do in the United States. " I left in the rain, for western France... - ... across Northern Europe... - Three days later I made it to the Atlantic Ocean... - ... Russia, Siberia... - ... to the UK, and from there... I went north to the Arctic. - And headed east... - Tanzania, Burundi, Rwanda... ...and onto Tunis, the North Cape, Marseilles... The bottom of one continent, to the very top of the other. And rode back into this driveway, into this garage, and the journey around the world, three years, seven months, 83,000 ridden miles, was over. That was to be the establishment of a Guinness World Record, something that no one in recorded history had ever done, and it had nothing to do with my disability. I am 160 percent disabled and I did what no one's done. It became more than a motorcycle. It was a vehicle for me to take an idea about commitment and attitude, and rising above, out to the world. Each motorcycle has its own soul. They're alive. I still find it incredible that I can push that motorcycle out here, and hit a button, and it goes, vroom! Once you get out of the town, out on some country road, putting along and taking in all that energy from all the trees budding, all the bright greens coming in, it's... it's awesome. I love riding first thing in the morning when the sun's coming up. It's a magic time, the light's warm and inviting, and the air is crisp and clean. I can't imagine a better way to experience that than on a beautiful motorcycle. There's a love and a passion that can bring people together, they can have incredible rides, incredible experiences, incredible adventures, but there's always that one common bond. You're riding down the road, there's another biker, and suddenly you guys decide this next leg, this 350 miles, you're going to do it together. You may have just found a friend for life. A lot of times when a guy buys a motorcycle, there's nothing more then he wants to meet someone and find a buddy to ride with. You just roll in on a motorcycle, amongst other cyclists, and they treat you like an equal. You can go to the Rock Store on a Sunday and see a wide swath of demographics of people. Everybody that's in motorcycling, they're there because they wanna be. They love it, and they understand that love when they run into another motorcycle rider. Your point of reference is always with the people that you're meeting, and the place where you are, and I think there is a degree of respect that comes from that. Bike night is a night where there'll be a place, it might be a restaurant, might be a bar, might be a coffee shop, might be a parking lot, and for whatever reason, bikers meet there. You park your bike, you talk bikes with other people, you plan rides, maybe go out for a ride. You know what I love about going to a bike night? I don't have to explain why I have four motorcycles. A lot of that heart and soul of the motorcycling community comes from the gatherings, and you get everybody together, you think, really, could you put customizers in with road racers? Are they really gonna talk to each other? Come to find out the common denominator of two wheels is so much deeper than any of us could have ever guessed. We all do indeed share the same passion. I think some of these club events to me, they're the real heart and soul of the sport and the hobby. My husband's in a motorcycle club. It's like a family. They all know each other, they all ride together, they all they all watch out for each other. It's passion, passion fuels everything about motorcycling, and camaraderie is the glue that holds it all together. When they come to a major event, like Daytona, there's a connection and I think they lack that the rest of the year. The first Daytona Bike Week I ever went to, I was just like, "What is this?" I just couldn't believe the sheer number of motorcycles and motorcycling people. All brands, all styles, all ages. If you look in that scene in Star Wars, the bar scene, that's Bike Week. I enjoy going to Daytona, but for me Sturgis is... Sturgis is my homecoming. Sturgis is Mecca for motorcycles. If you own a motorcycle you have to come here at least once, if not all the time. Upwards of a half a million people having a good time. Sturgis is a lot of different things to a lot of different people. To some people it's where they take their vacation every single year. This year will be the 41st year in a row. To some people it's an opportunity to meet up with friends who they don't see any other time. We have a big block party every year. People come visit us from all over the place. It's a good time surrounded by motorcycles. For some people, it's about the racing. Sturgis started out as racing, but it stayed successful because the riding in the Black Hills is fabulous. To me it was made for motorcycling. I think there's a reason why Native Americans held it sacred. There's something about the Black Hills that is absolutely magical. Guys come in from all over the country. Over 30 different nations. Getting there is just beautiful. We go and ride with friends from all over the country, sometimes the world, we've got buddies from Italy and Australia riding with us. You're almost sorry sometimes when you arrive, because the ride's over. Every time you get on a motorcycle you feel grateful. You just feel grateful that you've got the ability to get on a motorcycle and go be free. And I think with a lot of that gratefulness comes the thought of, you know, I should be doing something about this. Let's help. I just think it's a byproduct of how the bike makes you feel. The motorcycle community is the most open, inviting community that I've ever known. They're always raising money for charities, and almost every time they get together, they're doing something for somebody else. There's millions of motorcycles come together for different toy runs, for burn camp runs, cancer runs, you name it. It's a spirit thing, and to be charitable, uh, it comes from within, it comes from the soul, it comes from the spirit, and I think that's a common thread is that a lot of us ride motorcycles. Once we started getting records, we got opportunities to go speak to women, and I got a chance to speak at a troubled girls' home in Mitchell called the Abbott House. It's a residential treatment facility for girls ages 7-17, and I spoke to these girls and got hooked on 'em, and I thought, what if we take a damaged motorcycle, literally parallel to what's happening in their lives, into the classroom, and help them face and repair the damage, transform it into something incredible, which is what they're doing with their lives. And the Abbott House gave me a chance to do that. Now I wrote a curriculum in my kitchen, and have other places licensing, so we've got, like, five of them running now. Mert's Hands is a nonprofit group where I'm able to take donations and then help people that can't afford a hand. This attention that he's put into these prosthetic devices, ways to find amputees to get back on motorcycles and go out and feel the wind again in their face, is just, you know, if that isn't passion, I don't know what is. Jake McCullough, he was born without a hand. He was a guy that was trying to motocross and the kids are making fun of him, "What are you doing today, gimp?" You know, and stuff like that. And it caused him to be real withdrawn. And so they called me and purchased one of my hands. Well, in about eight months he was on the podium. It has completely turned his life around. Getting anybody back on wheels is a real pleasure for me. To me, going out the to desert is such a release, you know, you can just kind of get away from things. We go out there with a bunch of recreational bikes, usually 30, 40 people, extended family, cousins, aunts, uncles, and we just have a ball. If you go together, it's the best thing, because you're camping together. Everybody's involved. Dad's putting the gas in your bike while Mom's making you a sandwich. Made a whole weekend out of it, a whole family thing. Nowadays there's a product almost for everyone in the family. You could get a dirt bike, you could get a couple quads, and then just all go out and have fun. I get all my gear and warm up the bikes and then I'm gone. There's nothing better than watching your kids absolutely play all day. All my sons and my daughter all rode motorcycles. We went with my dad out to the desert, riding, and my husband, and we all... took off. It was the best time ever. Wind in your face, bugs in your teeth. That's how you tell a happy motorcycle rider, how many bugs in their teeth. I love riding, it's just the best feeling in the world. When your children are young, you have a chance to shape their world. You get to tell them what's cool and what's exciting. Family time is always good, and when you're in the desert barbecuing at night, hanging around the fire pit at night, that's always fun. That's always good times. When a child rides, the whole family is involved in motorcycling. Riding motorcycles, for my son, is more than just having fun. In our home it is an absolute tool for every single avenue in his life. If he doesn't do well in school, he's not gonna ride. If he's not polite, he's not gonna ride. I use it as a parenting tool. I don't know how else I could have taught them what they've learned on their motorcycle, as far as challenging themselves, and working as a team, and handling success correctly, and handling failure. It's affected my kids' eating habits. Now he's wanting to be a racer, so he's like, "I'm not gonna eat that," you know, I'm like, "Wow, that motorcycle is changing his eating habits at 13." It changed my life, it has to change a kid's life. My dad gave lessons all the time to kids all over the world that wanted to ride a bike. I think parents, for the most part, are scared of what's gonna happen to their kids if they ride a motorcycle. You can't just get on the motorcycle and be a perfectionist. Educate people to how much fun it is to ride. You can do a lot of things to make it as safe as possible. - Get him the right gear. - Rider education classes. The biggest thing you can do is get 'em the right training. We've recently started a MiniMoto school for little guys. A miniature, legitimate, road race machine. These guys are, like, five years old, and they are just so jazzed, and they have race face. I mean they... they're going for it! Creating safer riders is gonna be good for the industry, because it keeps riders in the industry longer. I felt like a lot could be done with MiniMoto racing here in the States, to make it more known and make it more of a way of life for people, like it is over in Europe. I just wanted to contribute to the road racing scene. If you give kids a playground where they can learn these skills while they're playing, in a racing competition or a school or whatever you have, an event, then the whole sport will grow even more. That's the best way I've actually observed the kids improve. Last one that we did, the kids were blown away with how much fun they had and how much they learned. It's so much fun to ride a motorcycle. Parents that are involved are really jazzed, and everybody wants to make it grow. Getting kids on motorcycles is one of the coolest, coolest, coolest, coolest things that there is. When I was growing up, my favorite place was Indian Dunes. They just don't have places like that anymore, and you know what, we need to find someplace like that. We need to recreate that feeling so we can, you know, turn it onto our kids. Back in '98, a stunt buddy and I, Jimmy Roberts, we looked at each other and said, you know what, let's put on a race. Let's put on a Grand Prix like the old days. Let's call it "A Day In the Dirt. " When we started A Day in the Dirt, we wanted it to be fun. - I love Day in the Dirt. - You're so excited because you're going to go there, you're going to have fun with all your friends. Before the truck stops, the kids have jumped out, running to go see what the track looks like. We're talking about a Grand Prix track. We're talking about a good three-mile track. So these kids humping around and they come up and they ask the tractor drivers what's going on. It's Grand Prix style racing, where you don't actually go out of a gate, it's a flag start. A lot of guys are out there, it's a big race, a lot of people are watching and, you know, when you line up on the gate, you got 20 guys to your left, 20 guys to your right, it gets a little nerve-racking. It doesn't matter if you finish in 27th place, as long as you finish in front of your friend, you won. Kids don't have to worry about who's gonna win, or who's gonna lose, or who's gonna make the hole shot. All these kids, all of them get along. Somebody's gonna win and somebody's gonna lose, but they're gonna come off, and they're gonna shake hands, and then they're gonna go roll around in the dirt again. It's really cool to seem them out racing and how good they are at such a young age, and even if they aren't good, just seeing them out on the track going two miles per hour they're still getting out there and they're still going for it. The last lap, you are so tired because you get the white flag, and you're like, "OK, just one more," and you give it all you got, and then when you see that checkered flag, you're like, "Yes!" They have a race at Day in the Dirt called the Wild Child race. It's really cool, 'cause you do a lap and then your partner does a lap, and every time you come in you've gotta switch a wristband. My dad helps me and then Trevor's dad helps him. I'm kind of nervous when Trevor comes in and it's my turn, and it's like, "OK, gotta do this, gotta do this, just gotta do your best. " It creates a friendship between the two racers, a bond that they'll have for the next 30 years that they'll remember. "I raced with Johnny in that one Wild Child race. " On Saturday night, you have this big party, and everyone goes out and they just have fun no matter what. Every year we end up meeting new people and just keep building our family, of moto. I'll be there just as long as Day in the Dirt's there probably. Probably have to bury me out there. Hopefully my kid will take it over. We have a passion and we share that together and there's nothing like it. Teaching your kids how to do something that you enjoy, and then seeing them enjoy it, it's priceless. I just think it's the best experience, like a father-son riding day. You can talk about the track with your dad, and he knows what you're talking about because he's riding with you. We don't have the most money in the bank, but, uh, we have the most memories. The day that Scout was born, I found out that I had advanced breast cancer. It was a tough battle, just surviving. And my husband said, "Is there anything that you want to do?" And I said, "Actually, I wanna go on a motorcycle ride. " And I was going through chemo, and I was really, really sick. And I just needed to get out of the house, and I couldn't be around people... ...because my immune system was so weak. And he got me up and he got me dressed, and he put me on the back of his bike, and he rode me to the beach. It was one of the absolutely the best days of my life. I knew that I was gonna be OK after that. Motorcycles made it... made it OK for me. You get everybody together and we're all talking about the same stuff, experiences. You know, that's what we're all doing with bikes, is we're experiencing something. Take advantage of these blessings that we've been given with our health and live 110 percent in the moment. The people that are out there doing it, they're out there, and they're living their lives, not intrinsically, they're living 'em. They're living the adventure, the competition, the adrenaline, the excitement. I still ride motocross, I still ride dirt trackers. You know, it's in my blood and it's never left. I ride because there's nothing like it in the world. It's a passion, it's something that I absolutely have to do, and I could never imagine not doing it. Whatever it is you're passionate about, go at it and make sure you do it the best that you can possibly do it, so that you're proud of what you've accomplished with it. Say you go out on a track for the first time and you're a little bit nervous, don't be nervous, you got it. Just believe in yourself. Don't be scared, it's fun. I'll help you and I'll cheer you on. When I see little girls racing, it's... To me, that's awesome, 'cause I wanna see where she is in ten years, not even just as a motorcycle racer, but as a person. Some of us were born into it, and others find it along the way, and it is just a love affair like no other. Once you try it, if you like it, you'll never leave it. Some people have it inside, it's a seed, and it's never sprouted, but the seed sits, and if you ever put the water on it, if you ever get on that bike and you roll that throttle and you feel the sensation, it's done, the seed has sprouted and it doesn't go away, it doesn't die till the day you take your last breath. So you enter this thing basically trying to follow a trend, but what happens is you become a purist, you are a biker because the seed was always there. It carries with it a whole universe of experiences. There's nothing that connects you in that special way to an environment. I says I've had the most interesting and amazing and adventurous life. I'm 87, and I'm still riding. I'm aiming for 100, because I don't think anybody's ever done it, and I'm always up to a challenge. Like my mother taught us, no such word as "can't. " Two great kids, a few good grandchildren, great grandchildren, what the hell else can an old man want anyway? The greatest memories I got are happening right now. They're happening right now. I just rode with my dad today. So, to me, this was a great day. I totally see myself teaching my kids if I have any, which I do want some. Can't wait for my kid to have a kid and we all go ride together. He was a... not only a father, but he was a good friend. We did get along very good. Motorcycles have put me in touch with wonderful people. As a result of that, I have an elevated idea about how good everybody in the world is. It makes you feel like you belong in this world. My whole life has revolved around riding, and the best memories of my life are from those times. And I would not trade absolutely anything for those. I remember her telling me not long ago, "Dad, I gotta ride the motorcycle with you, so I can learn to ride it, so when you get old, I can ride you on the back. " What a great thing that would be. I took her for her first, maybe she takes me for my last. To share that with my little girl like I did today, is just wonderful, it's just wonderful. Motorcycles and family, it's life. I don't know anything but it, we've done it... They just go together. The one thing I can tell you, having lived the life I have, tomorrow, my friend, is promised to no one. Kenny Roberts, first 500cc World Champion, and the first father to ever have a son who is 500cc World Champion. Mert Lawwill, I was the national champion, in 1969. Don Emde, I won Daytona in 1972. Dave Ekins, best known for opening the trail from Tijuana to La Paz. Al Lamb, AMA FIM world record holder, as the fastest man on a sit-on motorcycle. I'm Jason DiSalvo, Daytona 200 winner. I'm Joey Pascarella, I'm the 2012 Daytona 200 winner. I'm Josh Hayes, AMA Superbike Champion. Melissa Paris and I race motorcycles. I'm Troy Lee and I'm an artist. Brian Klock, and my wife and I and my daughters own Klock Werks Kustom Cycles. Laura Klock, I'm a land speed record holder on the Bonneville Salt Flats with my daughters. My name is Erika, and I'm a bike freak, too. I'm Karlee, I'm the youngest, and I have no fear. Gordon McCall, and I'm a motorcycle enthusiast. I'm Keith Code, and I'm the director of the California Superbike School. I'm Judy Code, I make people happy with my food. Michael Lichter, I'm a photographer. Arlen Ness, we're in the motorcycle business, in almost every aspect. Cory Ness, I'm president of Arlen Ness motorcycles. Zach Ness, I design and build custom motorcycles and custom parts. Hi, I'm Alonzo Bodden, I'm a stand-up comic. My great-grandfather, Fritzie Baer, his son, Butch Baer, Butch's children, Rick, Timmy, and Chrissy, and then I am Rick's son, Michael. Buzz Kanter, I publish American Iron Magazine, Motorcycle Bagger, and Roadbike. I'm Damian Doffo, and I'm the winemaker at Doffo Winery. Valerie Thompson, five-time land speed record holder. I'm Ernie Alexander, I opened Indian Dunes. Kenny Alexander, I put on A Day in the Dirt. My name's David Hansen, I own a company called The Shop in Ventura, California. Johnny McClure, I'm the mechanic at The Shop. Stoney Landers, I am a dad to a bunch of kids who love to race. Rocco Landers, I will ride until I make it to MotoGP. My name's Guerin Swing, I'm a designer. My name's Scout Swing, I ride, that's really all I do. I'm Taye Swing, I will ride until these bones won't hold me up anymore. Caleb Hawkins, I love motocross and I love my family. Talon Hawkins, and I like to ride with my dad. Jules Hawkins, and I'm passionate about my family. Jim Hargraves, motorcycles and family is family unity. I'm Anthony Hargraves, I'm in the dry cleaning business, and we're a motorcycle family. My name is Patty, and my family eats, sleeps, and breathes motorcycles. Eric Hargraves, been a journeyman carpenter now for 15 years. Jimmy Hargraves, I've been racing ever since I was little. Josh Hargraves, I'm 14 years old and I love to ride. Tanner Hargraves, I'm 11 years old and I like to ride. Zach Hargraves, and I wanna be a pro motocross rider when I grow up. Kerry Petersen, awarded title of Greatest Hillclimber of all time from Dirt Rider Magazine. Debbie Petersen, I'm married to Kerry Petersen. My name is Bret Petersen, three-time National Champion. Chelsea Saylors, 2012 Women's Champion for the NAHA Pro Hillclimb. Pam Saylors, administrative assistant, Camp Pendleton Marine Corps Base. John Saylors, and I drive Team Petersen's big rig. Johnnie Saylors, been riding my whole life. I'm Austin Fox, and I'm a professional hillclimber on Team Petersen. Jack Hoel, my mother and father are given credit for starting the Sturgis Motorcycle Event. Christine Paige Diers, I'm the Executive Director of the Sturgis Motorcycle Museum. Coe Meyer, and I'm the owner of Gypsie Vintage Cycle here in Sturgis, South Dakota. Jay Allen, I am here to carry this tradition on. Gloria Struck, in the Motor Maids 67 years already. Ted Simon, in 1973 I set out on a motorcycle journey, and wrote a book called Jupiter's Travels. I'm Donna Jean Kretz Forstall, and I love to ride motorcycles. Ed Kretz, Jr. Racing was my life. I'm Dave Barr, if you have sense of destiny, don't let anything stop you from making it a reality. |
|