This Lonely Highway
Posted on 22. May, 2011 by Coach in Gypsy Bikers, Open Road
It’s been a long road, and yet I find myself always in search of the next roadhouse, the next cafe, and the next stretch of highway just over the rise. Yeah, I’ve heard the sirens call of the mistress of the lonesome highway.
In 1976 when I first started riding a 1974 FLH, bikers were a much maligned and misunderstood group. We probably instilled more fear than intrigue, but the non-riding public was curious just the same.
EZ and I would ride for days down the grey lady’s path. We found ourselves comfortable on Highway 50 in the middle of Nevada, dubbed the “Loneliest Highway in America”. Go figure!
That “search” stayed with me, as it has with many of my “gypsy brethren”. We ride hard, often alone or in small packs of carefully chosen friends. Always searching the highways, and our souls. Taking one more ride, gettin’ on down the road.
Consoled by the hum of our engines, the feel of the wind on our faces, and the promise that wherever we are, we will be in a different place by sundown. Always searching. Always seeking that next great adventure. Always on watch for that next traveler, that one person who can touch our rambling souls. We are gypsy riders, riding the lonely highway.
Today, riders come in all manner of man and woman. Many are searching for a lost perceived freedom that the “counter-culture” promises. But many of them will be disappointed at being unable to find it. It is not the low-hanging fruit that today’s middle class prays for. Freedom requires work and sacrifice.
I understand that most will read these words and not understand. The classifieds are full of Harleys with more than 5 years of age, and less than 10,000 miles on the odometer. But there are those few whose soul stirs at the thought of the next sunset, the wind in their faces and the call of sirens that reside along the lonesome highway.
It’s funny that somehow we are considered anti-social. At times it seems that I should wear a patch of caution: “Warning, does not play well with others”. That far away look somehow gives us away.
Some of us are farther gone than others. I met a gypsy a couple years back. He worked the many vendors booths of the next great biker rally. Standing long hours selling the wares of others, so that he could raise enough money for the next roadtrip, the next adventure. Yeah, there are real life gypsies among us. But then, there are a lot more of us that are stricken with that same gypsy soul. Are you one of us?
Just as the 1%’ers have a patch, perhaps the “Gypsy Brethren” should as well. Those of us that just cant sit still too long. Those of us that seek what the road has to offer, the feel of the highway passing under our feet.
I sat down to write about a ride I recently took. But in order to tell that story, I needed to better understand why I ride the way I do. The trip in retrospect revealed a solitary passion to ride a little farther. It is no wonder that my bags are always packed.
So I pass these thoughts on to you. Perhaps you too will understand, perhaps not. I’ve tried to change, but I know I never will. One last ride, one last road. Taking one last ride, get me down the road.