Motorcycles and Memories
September 07, 2016
One of the things that I gave up in order to travel full-time in an RV is my motorcycle. Some people do configure their motorhome with a motorcycle lift so that they can take their "ride" along where-ever they go, but that just seemed like too much to me. And so I sold my Honda VTX 1800 earlier this year—sometime in June, I think. Here's the bike that I had:
I had this bike for six years or so. This is the second bike that I had, as I rode a Honda 350 for around 9 years starting when I was 19. Then I took about 25 years off from riding and got this one as my mid-life crisis bike. I found that riding as a 50+ year-old is quite a bit different than riding as a 20-year-old. Maybe it's the perspective that comes with age, maybe it's the wisdom of years of experience. Maybe just the busy traffic of Chicago suburbs. Whatever it was, I noticed that I was much more aware of my vulnerability and the potential for an accident as a 50+ rider than as a 20-year-old. Fortunately, I never had a mishap, but I still decided not to press my luck, and so the bike was sold.
Today we traveled to Sturgeon Bay to do some shopping for some needed items that we can't get locally in Bailey's Harbor or Sister Bay. Nearing Sturgeon Bay, I've noticed signs for the Wisconsin Motorcycle Memorial, and as we had time today, we decided to take a look.
The Wisconsin Motorcycle Memorial is a park and garden dedicated to motorcyclists who have died in the state. There's a simple garden and a picnic area. The garden path is made of paver stones, many of which have the names and dates of fallen riders.
Each name represents a life that was ended sooner than expected. Some are older; some are really young. It's a bit of a sobering reminder of how quickly life can change, both for the rider and for those left with just memories.
The picnic area adds a needed bit of whimsy, with motorcycle inspired picnic tables and art.
For my friends who ride, I hope you stay safe, wear your helmet and gloves, and don't take chances. For all of us, please start seeing motorcycles, so that we don't need to add more pavers to this garden.
Jane's note:
Motorcycles are Steve's thing, not mine, so I went to this park kind of the way he goes to botanical gardens; sometimes you just want to do something your spouse likes. So I was surprised by how ... interesting? meaningful? intriguing? ... I found it.
It's not a big place. We spent just a few minutes walking around, reading the memorial pavers. Some of them were sad, as you'd expect—"we miss you," "not forgotten." I think I had anticipated that the park would highlight the tragedy of motorcycle accidents, sort of the way the Vietnam Memorial highlights the losses of war. But this memorial is more of a celebration of cycling.
"Forever Ride"
"Ride in Peace"
"In the Sky, Steel Horses 2gether 4ever We Will Ride!"
It reminded me of something Gary Paulsen writes in Zero to Sixty: The Motorcycle Journey of a Lifetime, which I just read. He talks about people who love motorcycles and how they would refer to a death while riding as a "good way to die." (I recommend the book, by the way, although I am always very aware when reading his memoirs that I don't share his values and probably wouldn't like him very much if I met him in real life.)
People have left flowers on the pavers, and beer cans (empty, but clearly not trash), a bottle of whiskey (full, albeit airline-serving-size), and coins—lots and lots of coins. (Does anyone know whether this is a motorcyclist thing? Apparently the term "brother [or sister] in the wind" is another.)
I didn't expect to, but I recommend a visit to this little park if you're ever in the area.
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