Five maybe eight years ago I was out riding on a road that I pass on many times, I stopped at this old run down gas, convenient store. I enjoy staying away from the main roads and the big stores where the attendant won't even look at you.
Pulled in went inside and there was this guy had to be ninety. Took my money, we chit chatted a little and when I went outside he followed me.
“I used to have one of those.”
You know we have all heard that when stopped for gas, yea used to have a 175 Honda, my brother had, a sussy, you know the line.
This time I knew it was going to be different.
“Indians are all I used to ride, tried the Harleys but they weren’t as fast. Bought my first one in my twenties. Cut down the big fenders cus you don’t need them anyway.”
We talked for about twenty minutes, telling me about the good days, and how they all stopped when that darn movie with Marlin Bando came out and the public was so shocked, and the police started following him everywhere.
Said it took all the fun out of riding and he sold the bike soon afterwards.
I have tried to watch that movie, and cant get through it. Sure is funny how something can get so distorted, told enough it turns to fact.
I have ridden by that old station many times since, but don’t stop, simply because I want to keep the memory as it is in my mind. Don’t want to know what happened to that guy, in my mind he will live forever.
I think that is why we all ride.
right up there with most on the "Easy Rider" sound track .
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