If you have been a member here for very long you'll know that BI63 and I have very strong opinions on both bikes and bikers. We were privileged to ride during the last of "the golden age." You know, back when men were men and sheep backed out of a room...

I learned a lot from being a choir boy. I was your typical wise-mouth nineteen year old. I was so buzzed up on lousy coffee and mini-skirts that it's a wonder I actually held down a good job and graduated college. I would wake up every morning, 'smell' around for clean black T-shirt, light up several Marlboro menthols and try to figure out just how to make a V-engine designed in 1936 go even faster.

Then I would don my "choir robe," take a greasy Sifton cam off of my school books, light up another Marlboro and run off to a 400 seat lecture hall to try and get laid to fight off the hang-over. One morning it was so bad that 'Mogie' (my roommate and FOC of a Sheboygan choir) offered me six shots of Southern Comfort because the morning coffee wasn't working.

You might think this is just hyperbole and story telling. I once emptied my pockets and found both a switchblade and a rosary. No kidding. Yikes, how did I survive?

Below is that dumbass nineteen year old boy. Shiny new Harley, shiny new choir robes, bad attitude and more joy-juice than a cattle semen shed. Try not to laugh too hard, someday they will show your pictures.

https://i209.photobucket.com/albums/bb23 ... 01-127.jpg

Unlike todays politically correct world where asshats are able insult behind the annonimity of their key board in their mothers basement. Back in the day you were held accountable and better be able to back up what you said and did. Man to man. People were more disinclined to act randomly and carelessly. The plus/minus of error was slim,lol.

And why I immediately took a liking to you tourist and have always enjoyed your conversation. In fact all the phone calls always turn out near an hour or over. You talked the talk but you have walked the walk. Unfortunately when you post on forums, to many, you speak a foreign lanquage. Without fail the newobs and the just add water and stir crowd reacted as most ignorant do when they don't understand....reject,insult and bully. And its to bad. I thought harley riders wrotew the book on brotherhood, aprently only if they want it to be and on their terms.

Such is the M/O of most cyber communities. And why you're not teaching those who already know everything...just ask them. And why I do not care and have never tried to make this a teaching medium as much as a place to share with others like yourself whom I have 2 wheeled commonalities and similar experiences. You know lke the old days setting around a bon fire in some hard to reach obscure location regaling in the days or summers activities,lol.

Can't see the picture yet but will later today tourist.

As always much respect.

Wow, you pack in a lot of history with those simple paragraphs! I'll try and respond.

I agree about political correctness. While it simply breeds entitlement without achievement, it also stifles and chills debate and participation. And even here, I doubt that I have ever spoken 100% of what's on my mind for a forum. I do show history and cite analogies.

Accountable! Yikes! Mentors would put a size 11 engineer boot up your keester--even for your speech. I have often repeated how two "choir directors" came to see me not for what I said but how I said it. They felt it was not my place to speak for the choir, despite being one of the first sopranos.

Like it or not, you are a teacher. Your work ethic, the lessons you learned as an FOC--even your ink--are a resume' of what you did and where you presently stand in the world of motorcycling. Despite being a bit younger than me, you also witnessed the end as our mentors thinned out by age or early deaths. And even as a bystander, their beliefs and their actions guided the choices you made and still make.

Again, young boys are often denied a "rite of passage." They have trouble being men because no one taught them how to act. I did not always have a good role model in my immediate family. I never served my country. I never rose in the ranks of the Boy Scouts. But I did have the luxury of attending a very liberal college at the time of the Vietnam War, and I sang in the choir. I use those skills everyday. I see the futility of running your mouth without dedication, and the need to teach and guide because I benefited in that from others.

In a way, you should laugh at that photo. I was not a biker then, but I am one now. That rite has nothing to do with the bike itself, but how you were taught to ride it.

For me as ridiculous as its sounds to most, the Harley that I rode spoke volumes and defined me for who I was. It meant something back then (and still does for me) because most others were choosing to follow the leader...he was on a Honda,lol!! The Harley was far from the chosen sled of the masses. It was cops and outlaws who rode the Harley-Davidsons for the most part and sprinkle in a few hollywood celebrities. The outlaw kept harley in business through the lean years and what did they get in return for their loyalty...nada. Sold out. Harleys aren't sold on the premise of "buy a harley and look and act like a cop",lol.

Your observation is both sad and true.

In the choir at that time were several Honda Fours, lots of Sportsters, several BSA and Triumph models--in fact, the first year I rode the prez had a customized BSA Rocket III. Later on one guy had a 750cc three-banger Japanese ring-dinger. I admit that most guys had knuckles, pans and the new Super Glides, I was one of those guys. But after I moved here permanently I rode Sportsters. I had fewer miles to cover then for events.

But as I stated, it was the mental, not the metal. People forget that. MoCo will sell you the image, both in style of dress and hardware. I wear their pants, it's as close as I can get to the older Wranglers, the best fit I ever had and easier to sit in for longer periods. I like Harley's new style boots because I either had to send away for Crawford House boots with Vibram soles or rebuild engineer boots.

But that's a long way from being a biker. I make the analogy of an actor riding with real cops or taking a boot camp course to better represent police procedures or a soldier's conduct. While I admire the work ethic to get things right, no one really believes that actor could accomplish those lifestyles when the cameras stop rolling. Just because you can buy my old clothes on eBay doesn't mean the lessons learned permeate from the old denim.

It's the reason I posted the picture. It's a shadow of a foolish young boy, a guy who does everything wrong and is not only clueless about motorcycles, but the life and ethics in the company of men. In many ways--choir robe or not--that little boy is a poser. The next five years of that kid's life will be the most important in galvanizing character. And it is only now that I see the ethic, not the emblem.

I been riding non stop since I was 13-14-15, I am now 55. Does that make me a better person? I don't know about a better person but it certainly makes me a much better amd more experienced motorcycle rider than most of todays riders. And why today I shy away from the larger attended rallies chosing on most occasions, the path less taken. Why? Most of my peers as Tourist has illuded to are dead,incarcerated or disgusted.

I been a lone wolf, I've been a hang around, a prospect, a member and surviving all that a father,a grandfather and a husband for 30 years. That takes luck (which is when preparation and opportunity come together) and a degree of deftness on my part. Knowing which sword to die on and when/where. And I am an easy person to get along with. No tolerance for bullsh*t, speaking the truth as best I know it and a temper are my short comings.

In my opinion posters like Tourist are a hidden jewel. He's been making me laugh my ass off at times (at other peoples expence) and jogging long forgotten (on purpose,lol) memories on other occasions for years now. You're the man Tourist!

Why you sneaky SOB! LOL! I thought you were FOC. Yikes, now I have to start respecting you! You still got your choir robes? Send me a pic when you get time.

I never sang solo, well, maybe in high school. If there was a puddle of singers, I was the biggest drip. There's something about running with a few dozen old pans thumping and clattering that quiets my soul. I hate camping. But snug inside a sleeping bag at a rally, big ol' bonfire lighting up the sky with tiny flying embers, the chick whining about her frozen ass and guys who would die for you telling sick jokes and I would be willing to sleep on solid granite.

Well, the kid in the picture would. The fudd I have become likes room service...

("Hidden jewel"?)