Shopping Cart Handlebars

Two stories come to mind when I think of my step-father. Actually, a lot of stories come to mind, but there are two in particular that I’ve been thinking about this morning.

I remember when he first told me the one story. We were driving somewhere in his old “shaggy van”. You might remember those vehicles. Gary’s was complete with the wall-to-wall carpeting, bed, sink, etc. A classic. We were talking about motorcycles. I was thirteen and my step-brother and I had just purchased our first dirt bikes. Gary was as excited about it as we were. After all, his life had revolved around bikes.

“Stay focused when you ride.” He told me. “I’ve seen too many accidents that could have been avoided if guys paid attention.” I sat silent. Listening. Gary wasn’t much of an authoritarian. He was like a big brother. More often than not, he was a bigger kid than me and my siblings. It drove my mom nuts, because she was always having to lay down the law on her own. In fact, later on, she would tell me that it was part of the reason they split up.

As a thirteen year old, I was in awe of my step-father / big brother. He epitomized coolness. He had been a founding member of an outlaw motorcycle club, and was still close to some of his club brothers. He owned a Wide Glide. In my eyes, a chopper. It was the coolest bike I had ever seen. Every time he fired it up, it sent a chill down my spine. That bike represented an entire culture to me. In fact, it’s the reason I ride a Wide Glide today. It has always been my dream bike.

He laughed, and I turned to look at him. He had the most playful, childlike laugh. “I remember riding down Bank Street one time. It was a beautiful day and I was enjoying the sun on my face as I rode my bike. I noticed a woman walking down the sidewalk and started checking her out. I lost my focus. At least my focus on riding. I didn’t notice that there was construction happening up ahead. I was too busy trying to look cool for the girl on the sidewalk.” He laughed some more. “That’s when I hit the car in front of me. It had come to a full stop, and I rode into it at decent speed. Hard enough to bend my forks back! Yup, you have to stay focused!”

I thought the story was so cool. I have the coolest step-father in the world! After all, I could relate. Every guy who rides can. When we are on our bikes, we think we are so cool. And it’s easy to lose focus. I have to remind myself of that often.

Gary told me the second story one day as I was in the process of rebuilding the engine from my first street bike, a 1985 Kawasaki LTD 550. I had blown the engine (a story for another day) and was attempting to fix it with the help of some friends. “We used to make parts out of just about anything for our bikes.” He said. “I remember taking a cart from a grocery store because I thought I could make handlebars out of them.”

“Did it work?” I asked, once again in awe of just how cool this guy was.

“It did for a while.” He replied, laughing. The problem was, they couldn’t stand up to the vibrations of my bike. One day, I was riding along the Queensway (the main highway here in Ottawa), when the left side of the bars snapped off! I hung on with the other hand and maneuvered the bike over to the side of the highway. I still can’t believe I kept it up.”

I think of that story every time someone asks me about the bars on my Wide Glide. Home made bars that had to be reinforced after a trip I took through Northern New York. A day into my trip, I noticed a crack forming at the base of the left side of the bars. I pulled into the garage and borrowed a drill and put a screw into the bar, hoping to keep it from coming apart. They lasted me the rest of my trip, the bar breaking off in my hand just after I pulled back into my driveway. The bars are still on my bike, reinforced so that hopefully they last.

I’m thinking a lot about the motorcycle community these days. I imagine it’s because I’m about to embark on a pretty significant road trip. As I enjoy the open road, just me and my Wide Glide, I hope to meet some people with stories to tell. “Shopping Cart Handlebars” type stories. Personal experiences of bikers and their machines.

Bikers are a mixed bunch. They come from so many different backgrounds. They have so many stories to tell. I look forward to hearing some of those stories.

And perhaps telling a few of my own.