Page last modified: 09/03/08

I like to arrive early so I can relax a little, and watch the vast array of motorcycles arriving in small groups. We normally leave at 7:30 p.m., but lately, we've been waiting until 7:40 p.m. to ride-off. We've been starting the ride later because a local city bus driver, who normally drives past the pub at 7:30pm, was getting upset when the county sheriff would stop the traffic from both ways so we could pull-out and start our ride. Some weeks, as many as 200 riders will show up, so you can just imagine how long the bus driver, who's on a time schedule, would have to wait in traffic.

The organizers of the ride request a dollar donation from each rider, and a canned food item. The canned goods are sent to a local food pantry, and the money donations are forwarded to the area's summer-vacation "lunch-in-the-park program." The lunch-in-the-park program provides a good lunch for under-privileged kids who normally eat at school. Their parents are working during the day, so during summer vacation, a lot of these kids would miss having lunch. I've often wondered why the local police are so cooperative with us during our Tuesday ride. Is their cooperative attitude aimed at fostering good PR, or, is it because City Hall is aware of the financial benefits that this mixed group of bikers provides for the local community? Whatever the reason, things seem to go pretty smooth each week.

Like most organized rides, the people who attend this weekly get-together come from all walks of life: male, female, white collar, blue collar, unemployed, and retired.

Its neat to see people who fill the roles of lawyers and doctors during the day, finding time on Tuesday evenings to put on a pair of leather chaps and a skull cap to escape reality for a few hours and play "biker."

Some people only attend the Tuesday ride only once or twice per year. Others come every week. One individual, who attends the ride every week, has a three year-old touring-rig with close to 100,000 miles on it. Impressive, when you consider the short riding season we have here in upper Wisconsin.

There are some riders attending the weekly event who refuse to be lined-up next to anything but a bike like theirs during the ride, and there are others who won't park their bike next to a foreign bike…if they only knew that someday, I plan on having a bike just like theirs sitting in the garage next to my old GS700ES.

One night, I met a rider who recently spent $300 on a pair of motorcycling boots to match his leather riding-cap. He asked me why I didn't invest in a pair of riding boots like his? I remember smiling and thinking to myself, "what makes more sense, overpriced biker boots to protect his ankles, or a good helmet like I wear to protect my head? Choice. He chose boots; I chose a helmet.

We also have our share of wheelie popping "wanna-be" road racers who attend the Tuesday night ride. You know the type - racing leathers, matching boots and gloves, and an $800 Kevlar helmet. They ride spotless, tricked-out pseudo race bikes, sporting bright day-glow colors…their bikes look like they've just been ridden off the showroom floor. Actually, some of these bikes really aren't ridden all that much, and this is proven by the fact that their odometers show mileage increases only amounting to the length of the prior week's Tuesday night ride!

There are times when I get the feeling that some riders, who segregate into groups based on their brand of motorcycle, look at me like I'm an outcast because I choose to ride a 16 year-old Japanese bike. I can't explain why, but it really frustrates me. According to my wife, I'm just envious and a little jealous, because deep down, I really want to be part of their tightly knitted group…perhaps she's right. This brings up a good point. I want to ask them, "Is the enjoyment of motorcycling about the ride itself, or is it only about the bike you're riding?"

But a few weeks ago, I was fortunate to experience something on my Tuesday night ride that made me feel proud to be part of the motorcycling community. There's a guy in our Tuesday night group named John who recently lost his 16-year old son to cancer. I don't know him personally, but it seems like he never missed the weekly ride…don't even know what brand of motorcycle he rides. We all felt so bad for him. What do you say to a guy who just lost his son to cancer? Thankfully, someone came up with a really neat idea. It was something we could do, as a group, to pay our respects to John and his family when we were on our Tuesday night ride.

Earlier in the day, one of the riders purchased fresh daisies from a local flower shop. That evening, as we assembled in front of the pub, each rider was given a flower. Our ride leader mapped-out a route through the residential neighborhood John lives in so we could ride single-file past his house to deliver our flowers and pay our respects. My first reaction was, "oh boy, how are John's neighbors going to react when 200+ bikers come rumbling-through their quiet little neighborhood?"

But as our serpentine line of motorcycles idled through John's neighborhood, I could see that things were going to be just fine. There were people lining both sides of the street leading up to the house. They were smiling, waving, and giving us the old "thumbs-up." When I finally made my way to the front of John's house, my heart began to swell. You know the feeling…for me, it was like how I felt when I saw my bride walking-down the isle toward me when I got married, or how I felt the first time I saw my kid in a school play.

There must have been a hundred of John's friends and neighbors gathered across the street from his house to pay their respects. Man, oh man, talk about tugging at a person's emotions. I remember my eyes tearing-up a little…could it have been that motorcycle in front of me with the straight-pipes blowing exhaust fumes into my face?

After I placed my flower on the ground, I pulled-up next to a girl riding a custom-painted white and blue Harley Davidson Soft Tail that was similar to the color of my stock blue and white Suzuki GS700ES. While we waited to be directed back out to the highway, I apologized, jokingly, for causing her to be stuck riding next to a "rice burner." She looked at me, smiled, and said, "It really doesn't matter, does it? She was right. Its about the ride, not just what you're riding.

Mark is an AMA District 16 Field Rep.
and 25-year life member of the American Motorcyclist Association.