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Archive for March, 2010

I’ve been riding all over LA getting ready for this trip. Meeting the people has become the driving force behind this trip. Mike in Detroit, Louise in Georgia, Misty in Tennessee.. I can’t wait to meet them and hear their stories! My crew is smaller than I anticipated but that’s OK. We couldn’t find the funding from the big guys, everyone is poorer these days but that has just made the ride more organic. I could do this with one camera strapped to my back and still find myself in the heartland of America with a grin on my face. Hugging everyone at arms length. There is a memorial for the M. C. Kruzers who were killed on Carefree Highway in Phoenix on the 25th. I will be there on Sunday the 4th. It’s called the Arizona Bikers Ball and Farkle Run. Proceeds go to the families of the bikers killed. Please attend this.

I know it touched every biker from Alaska to Florida. Our hearts are breaking for our brothers and sisters who are killed every year by bad drivers.  How this accident happened is just not even in my realm of possibilities. But it did happen. I’m certain God has an amazing mission for them and needed them all right away.

I pray you ride with Angels on your shoulders my friends and I’ll see you out there.

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Gina…

I had the opportunity to ride with Gina Woods from Open Road Radio, I’ve known her for years but have rarely ridden with her. She rides a 48 panhead with ape hangers. Being a radio personality, she of course is really good at talking and she continues to talk as she rides. We were on the freeway, semi trucks all around us and she was right beside me saying something…all of a sudden she was gone! I look in my rear view mirror and she is side by side with another bike behind us chatting him up. In a few seconds they were so far behind me that all I could see was a gauntlet of trucks with two dots and four ape hangers in the center. For a brief second I thought “Oh shit, maybe her bike died! Just when I thought I had lost her she came flying past me. When I caught up to her, I know I had that “What happened” look on my face but she just smiled and continued to chat.

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The Rock Store

I rode to the rock store this morning, I got there about 8am and had breakfast. Before 9am there were almost a hundred people and motorcycles outside in the parking lot. The thing about bikers is that all these people were walking around and talking as if they enjoy each other. Strangers with a common bond and they are outspoken about it. You won’t find that at sporting events or any gathering of strangers that I know of.

A motorcycle can make the most antisocial, gruff guy into a social butterfly. Bikers, even the guys who just ride on the occasional weekend become the heart of humanity when they get together. I love these people.

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15 years had passed and we found each other on Facebook. He was still beautiful. I still loved him. He hasn’t changed a bit or if he has, I didn’t notice. I can’t see through love. It’s always there coloring the way we look at everything. I like to look at people through this particular curtain; love. I had a great day today.

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Last night I went to the women’s garage night at Glendale Harley-Davidson. Glendale has a strong group of women riders who support women. Half of the women were new riders and half were seasoned riders. All of them were warm and generous with their words to each other. I’ve been to dealerships where the women seemed to be in competition with each other. One time in a Bakersfield dealership, I mentioned I loved to collect those little pins when I ride around the country. The saleswoman remarked, “Yeah like you’ve ridden anywhere!”

LOL. I just grinned. I guess the fact that I don’t have the bar and shield on every bit of clothing I wear threw her off.

She didn’t actually ride herself I found out. But I have to say, with so few women riding it’s imperative that we support each other. This is the one! This is that thing that you can do alone, that makes you feel like a hero. A cowboy. The cartoon character riding that rocket into the sky. You don’t need anybody else to ride. You don’t need permission to ride. You don’t need years of training like an astronaut but you feel like one. You don’t need s huge pit crew to win but you feel a winner. I like to use the term bullet proof when I tell people how it feels to ride.

The saleswoman at that store was not a rider so I understand to a point. Maybe she will join the ranks someday. Get that stick out of her ass and put something worth while between her legs. Madelyn Albright once said, “There’s a special place in Hell for women who don’t help other women.”  As for the women riders at Glendale  Harley-Davidson. I can see they are all going to heaven!

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Traffic Laws!

I’ve been making a cheat sheet of traffic rules of the states I’ll be riding through!  Helmet laws change from state to state as do the rules on how loud your pipes can be, whether you can lane split or turn right on red. One year in Sturgis I was stopped at the end of Main Street for not wearing clear glasses in the evening. I was certain the officer was wrong so I stood my ground and had an argument with the poor old guy. He walked back to my boyfriend who was parked behind me and said’ “Boy she’s a mean one isn’t she? I’m going to give you a written warning but I’ll let you tell her.”  And the officer tiptoed away.

I’m trying to avoid those type of encounters on this trip. Of course if anyone knows any laws I might no be aware of ; I’m all ears!

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Defining moments…

I tried to get a ride together called the Freedom Ride from LA to Sturgis, it was the year of Hurricane Leon so when it started drizzling a little, women started falling off like flies. A woman who didn’t drop out was the very wealthy, married to the Simple Green cleaning king; Ms. Judy.  She arrived three hours late driving a truck.  Hmmm.. OK…. she can be the chase vehicle.  Anybody know what  “rush-hour” is like in Los Angeles… how about heading to Las Vegas on a holiday weekend ? Kill me now, yeah it’s very like that. It started raining hard above San Bernadino and Miss Thing  (in a “Daisy Duke” outfit with her 55 year old body, fake saggy DD’s hanging out all over and a pound of putty on her face ) keeps stopping to see if I’m alright…. I assure her I am.  The rain is torrential at one point on the downhill into Vegas and I wait as long as I can with a group of Sturgis bound riders before I decide I should catch up  with Ms. Thing.  I’m not sure but I think I floated into Vegas. In Vegas for the night, I dry out my gear while Ms. Thing gets a massage…. Unfortunately I’ve forgotten to explain to Ms. Thing that a chase vehicle is NOT there for me to chase and by the time I think to explain it to her she is already snoring.  Early morning, after a leisurely breakfast for her and a wet packing frenzy for me; we head off to Green River, Utah hoping to hook up with the women riders we were supposed to meet up with last night.

I still haven’t had the talk with Ms. Thing about the chase vehicles job and before I can, I’ve lost my favorite high sierra sleeping bag and part of my luggage to the torrential rains and gusts of wind blowing me to Green River, Utah. Ms. Thing is way ahead of me, I’m not sure where, but I leave her a message every gas stop just to let her know where I am. I stop at the hotel we were scheduled to stay in last night, everyone’s gone and she’s not there. While I’m standing there, I get a message that she’s in Vail. Shit….As I’m riding through to Vail Colorado I get phone call after phone call. I can feel it vibrating in my shirt but I don’t slow down because I’m trying to get to this new hotel . I pull into the hotel around 10pm, cold, wet and tired.  I’m greeted by the highway patrol officer who has just begun a search for my dead, broken body along the interstate.   Ms.Thing was so certain I was dead on the road somewhere she called every number attached to any of the paperwork for the ride. My friend Brent assured her during the 50 calls he received that I was a very experienced rider but she was having none of it. I spent the evening calling my relatives and friends reassuring them I was alive.

The next morning I woke up with my head up my ass. I know this because when Ms. Thing says, “ hey why don’t you put your wet gear in my truck and when we get to Denver you can dry it and strap it back on your bike.” I agree. I am selfishly thinking how great it’ll be screaming up over the continental divide without that extra 90 pounds behind me. Head still stuck in my sphincter; I ignore the little warning signs coming from my intestines as I toss my gear in her truck and saddle up. Again she heads off leaving me in the dust. Damn I gotta have that chase vehicle talk with her. When I get to Denver’s “Freedom Harley”, Ms. Thing is of course, NOT there. I meet up with the women riders I was planning to meet and they decide to go ahead of me to Cheyenne because they want to beat the rain. Ms. Thing calls.  She’s broken down. Ah crap…. I start calling around to get someone to help her out.  After finding the one and only mechanic open and willing to go up the mountain (for a hefty price)  she says “no….Now she needs a wrecker!” It takes an hour and help of the highway patrol to find a wrecker big enough  to haul her out of the ditch she told me she was in. Her story was that her truck died and rolled backwards and hit the side of a mountain, there by putting her two back tires in a ditch. I ask her where she is. It sounded like a fair question to me. She doesn’t know!’ “What the fuck… how hard can it be… driving over the pass there’s only one interstate highway!”  I ask her to look at the numbers on the little signs on the side of the road and I’ll have the dispatcher call her. I didn’t mention I was trying to get my hand through the phone to strangle her.  Ten minutes later the Semi-Truck-Super-Towing Company dispatcher calls me back. Maybe I should talk to my friend. “Yeah yeah she’s a buttard, you couldn’t get it out of her either?” “No” the dispatcher says.

OK OK I know I’m going to regret it but I’ll drive back to Vail and find this dumb-ass and call you back. I leave her a message, “I’m coming to the rescue!”  As I get on the highway I get a call so I pull over, “Hello Aly? …

So begins the long story about how she’s not on the interstate and never had an accident. What?? As it turns out she met a man…..(probably 12 feet from where I left her) at the hotel and  her booty call took too long. All I can say is this guy better have a 10 inch dick and be one of those guys even Barbara Bush would pony up for.

In reality the time was no doubt taken up by a long conversation to convince the poor shmuck to just close his eyes and pretend she wasn’t the spitting image of his grandma. But I don’t give a shit.  “I’M GOING TO CHEYENNE” I scream into the phone and hang up on her. When I finally reach Little America,  the lobby is full of my riders waiting for me. Thank God, Little America has a bar.

I get the rooms for everyone and as we’re pulling into the parking spaces, we’re approached by a dressed like a woman, sounding like a man person with a full face helmet; riding a 650 something or other motorcycle. “Are you Aly?” she/he asks? “Yes..” I say suspiciously. “Can I join the ride?” She/he removes the helmet… Hmmm interesting.  The women from Denver look at me with those “Mama don’t let him hurt us” saucer eyes.  “Well let me ask you something” I say. “Yes?” she/he responds. “Do you have a vagina?” I ask.  “Yes!” she says. “Were you born with it?”,  I ask.  “No”, he reply’s.

I’m not rooming with her! a voice says from my new posse. Well, hell who am I to judge, it could not be worse than Ms. Simple mind er Green. And I made reservations with plenty of rooms.  As it turned out I made a good choice. This person had been a mechanic, she fixed every ones stuff, and bent over backwards to help out.

Thankfully, in Sturgis my new best friend shared her tent with me because all my stuff is still in the truck, and it may never get here because I rationalize there are at least 50 thousand men between Denver and Cheyenne, it may take Ms. Thing some time.

Not her fault, mine. I should have left L. A. when she was 3 hours late, I should have continued through Vegas to the hotel rooms I paid for, I should have left her in Vail… OH yeah I did leave her in Vail.  I should have kept my stuff with me. My Bad!

Sturgis that year was hot, humid and muggy. I had no leathers, no extra clothes, no tent, tooth brush or deodorant. I had no banners, no tee-shirts, no paperwork, could not gather with the folks I had planned to gather with because my information and paperwork was in the truck. In the places I knew we had set up to meet people, I was either too late or looked silly shouting out to every bike that pulled up. “Hey are you here for the Ladies Freedom Ride?

I  bunked with a transgender person who, once I was all snug in my new sleeping bag, drinking beer and gossiping like two girlfriends said, “I have to tell you something, I hope you don’t mind but I’m a lesbian.

You don’t mind do you?”  OK, OK… you know there’s something inherently wrong with this I just can’t get my head around it, is this a ploy to sleep with women? Wait, no, then he’d still have a dick.  So he cut off his…because he wants to sleep with women…but needs to be a woman to be a lesbian so he…..but…to be a woman because he’s a lesbian who likes… women and…. Uh . …Oh Crap.

Maybe she just likes the feel of the underwear!

“No.. no, it’s all fine, I’m not the least bit bothered.  If I was I’d uh… hey how about a shot of jack with this beer!” ”

Ms. Thing had a story all her own by the way, she arrived in Sturgis I don’t know when. After deciding she was too afraid to ride her new, $20K hog with the $10K paint job that she paid “God only knows how much” to have flown up to Sturgis; she stuck out her thumb and hitched a ride down main street. Unfortunately the guy who picked her wrinkled old, triple D – boob job, daisy duke’d, sorry ass up was a drug dealer. And he forgot to leave his work at home. So Ms. Things “half-of-main-street” ride came to a dramatic halt!!!

I did get my phone call from Bartels H-D no less; ” would I please bail her out of the local pokey?”

“Uh no…”

I heard her husband flew up to bail her out. And boy was she mad at me! She never actually spoke to me, I got my crap back a few months later by a guy from Bartels. It probably took her that long to drive the truck back… there are at least several million men between South Dakota and LA. I estimate over a thousand are either blind or fuck cadavers so…..

This was a defining time in my life.  Now I know every woman in her heart wants to be like us, the women who live with out fear, the women who choose their own paths in this life. It’s just hard for some people to really live what is inside of them. God bless them.  But since then, I removed the words “nice” and “tolerant” from my nameplate. And now only ride with seasoned riders.

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