Join Bean’re On: https://www.facebook.com/#!/beanre
Originally Published In The September 2012 Issue Of Cycle SourceMagazine
When Chris Callen and I discussed me writing this monthly article, we came up with the idea that it would not be about point A to point B with me, but something deeper — a kind of soul searching journey that I do. Sitting down today to write my third month’s column, I start out with point A to point B. I do believe this is a very relevant part of my story, however there is much more to it than that. I also realize that I can take a picture of myself in front of an air conditioner during a heat wave wearing nothing more then a motorcycle helmet and goggles, and post it on Facebook in front of millions of people. I can also dress up in a pink tutu and perform a Cheech and Chong rendition of Up in Smoke in front of live crowds of thousands, but if I share anything about my true feelings, that is a scary proposition.
This month I wrote an article and instead of throwing it away, I will post it on www.cyclesource.com. It is a cool story of my journey from point A to point B last month, but here I’m going Join Bean’re On: https://www.facebook.com/#!/beanre to share some feelings. If that thought makes you half as nervous as it does me, I understand. Beware though, for this could get deep… Bottom line is that what makes me happy is riding my motorcycle. I ride and I ride hard. Having an addictive personality could be one reason I just can’t seem to ever ride enough; more is always better. Another may just be as simple as an Arlo Guthrie lyric: “… just wanna ride on my motorsickle.” Whatever the reason, all my life I have be devising plans on how to ride more, ride further, just plain ride. I have came up with a zillion Fred Flintstone ideas, and I have had one or two that would probably get the attention of Forbes magazine. One thing that has come of all this that I hadn’t really planned on was the notoriety of the name and face of Bean’re. Because of that, I have been getting help from promoters and event organizers to help endorse the events, both before, during and even after.
Promoters can be an interesting bunch. As Hunter Thompson said: “The music business is a cruel and shallow money trench, a long plastic hallway where thieves and pimps run free, and good men die like dogs. There’s also a negative side.” Some promoters can be much like the music business; lucky for me, most are not. I came in contact with one amazing promoter while doing a show in Michigan: Thunder on the Grand. I didn’t know anything about it, but I love Michigan and I really wanted to do another show there. Within the first 10 minutes, I knew this was an event like no other. It was truly 100% for charity. It wasn’t just about raising money or raising awareness, but it dug deep into every single attendee’s heartstrings and if nothing else, it made you thankful for what you have, life itself. Not all are that lucky.
Even with the seriousness of the event, we still had a good time: rodeo games, tug of war, parades, and a car show. They had everything except the greased pig contest. Since it was so hot, they were concerned for the safety of the pig. There were awesome good times to be had and plenty of late night partying. I felt good at the end of the day, much like the others. It was kind of like a soul cleansing feeling. When it was over, I felt worse than a thieving pimp taking money from them (I had less then 20 dollars to my name). I just told them to give me enough to get back to KY. They argued with me that it wasn’t enough and insisted on giving me at least half of what we originally agreed on. Now there have been times that I was straight up not paid by a promoter. I have had many make me hunt them down at the end of the event. I’ve even had some “forget” to pay me, but it is a rarity when you ask for less, and they refuse and pay you more. That is refreshing; I only hope that I am noble enough to pay it forward.
Another thing at that very same rally is that I was supposed to do a stunt show, but I blew a head gasket. I had friends that know me and some that had just met me, offer to help out. After blowing it again less than an hour later, it was discovered that I had a much bigger problem. I had pulled the studs out of the cases meaning that my entire engine was rendered useless. Someone called their friend with a local machine shop and this guy showed up. His name was Bomer — pronounced bomber. He looked at my motorcycle parked under a grassy pavilion and said he was familiar with this problem. Basically, he would machine some new studs and he would be back, but it would take hours. Less than 2 hours later, I saw him again. He had not only made the new studs, but he even tapped the block and installed them. He then refused to take any money. It is hard not feeling like the people Hunter Thompson describes when I come into contact with people this giving.
Such is the life of Bean’re. I’ve always been lucky. I constantly seem to meet good people, and even in a bad situation, I come out better than okay. When I’m broke, I get what I need. I’m not starving, as I weigh more now than I ever have. It seems that my life happens if I let it. My life is better than any one can image, including me, but I just got to get out of the way and let it happen. I think I will ride some more now and see what is going to happen next.
