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Freeway Prophecies With Bean’re

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Originally Published In The July 2012 Issue Of Cycle Source Magazine

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Being an ordained minister, sometimes I’m asked to perform weddings. I take this very seriously in that it is joining two souls and making them one. There aren’t too many more things on earth that make a bigger impact then that. A few months ago, I was asked to officiate a wedding for friends Karri and Keith and their location was at the Crossroads in Clarksdale, Mississippi. Well, I was in Los Angeles when I accepted the honor but knew this would mean riding across the country in mid February; possibly a very cold ride. I hadn’t decided then if I was going to Daytona for bike week or if I would stay on the West Coast. Once the decision was made that they wanted me to actually be minister at the wedding, I knew what I would do. You see, this is how most of my life works out. I don’t have to decide where I am going; life tells me where I am going, but I have to listen. The wedding was on a cotton plantation where John Lee Hooker and Pinetop Perkins (a keyboardist for Muddy Waters and solo artist) lived and worked for many years as share croppers. You actually get to stay in the cabins that they lived in although they are refurbished with trendy knick- knacks. There is much history on that land and even if you don’t believe in spiritual energy, you will soon after spending a little time there. Many musicians come and spend weeks writing and getting creatively inspired. I’m looking forward to my trip back soon. There’s much more to this story and to satisfy your curiosity, you can read all about it and see the pictures on www.cyclesource. com/newsblog. Hey, congratulations Karri and Keith!

After that awesome wedding ceremony, it was time to head out to Daytona. Rolling along on the back roads of Mississippi, I had some problems with my bike’s charging system and it was nighttime. Sure I could have just camped and waited for daylight but there was a storm coming my way. Road weary and exhausted, I was having trouble thinking of what I should do. So, I got on the Internet and put a blurb out for help. Many people responded with options, but one offer inspired a thought: I would just get a brand new extra battery, strap it on the bike, “jump” my other battery and keep riding. I bought a giant tractor battery. I was going to just strap it on top of my luggage but it fit perfectly on my rear passenger floorboard where I bungeed it on. Once again, I have relied on the help of friends for inspiration and know that they are out there with me in spirit so I never have to ride alone. For the next three days, I’d ride 200-300 miles a day, get to a prearranged friend’s house where they were waiting with a battery charger, eat, sleep and leave fully charged, both me and the bike. This worked so well that I had a hard time fixing it once I did get to Daytona where more friends were waiting with a shop and tools (thanks Glen). Bike week was the same as it always is so I won’t go into that, but my bike had been developing a smoking front cylinder that only got worse as the week progressed. I suspected a cracked ring. Because of that bummer and then a partially de-capping rear tire, I did something that I hate to do and cringe writing about — yep, I loaded my bike onto Dakota’s school bus since he was going right by where I needed to be in Tennessee. Hitching a ride saved my motor and saved me gas money which I am having a harder and harder time coming up with. In a time when people are traveling less because of these gas prices, I find myself fighting more to go further. I think this is my way of not letting the man win.

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Once in Tennessee, I spent the next two weeks building a pole barn and making gas money for a good month, but that would soon get eaten up early trying to fix my bike. It gets where I hate making money or even just having a pocket full of money because something always comes along and takes it just when it’s time to hit the road. I do much better making a few dollars last a week than making a $100 last one day. Well, I got the bike going and limped it to friends and family in Louisville, KY. Once there, I immediately dug in to get my bike back to roadworthy. That night, I heard some aching news that I thought I had prepared myself for but it still struck me like a knife in the heart, none the less. My friends Bobby and Elisa Seeger’s son Aidan had passed away. It is hard to even write this now, a month later, without tearing up. With my bike down, limited funds and the commitment I had made to myself over a year before when Aidan was diagnosed with Adrenoleukodystrophy (ALD), I had to get to Brooklyn, NY, for the services and be with my friends in their time of need. Wanting to make this trek on my own without assistance from anyone, I bought a Greyhound bus ticket with 14 connections round trip. I left Louisville at 11 p.m. Monday night. By Tuesday afternoon, I was in Columbus, OH, barely a third of the way there. Late buses had caused me to miss two other buses and I was going to get to Brooklyn very late, if at all. I remembered about the last time, over 20 years ago, when I swore I would never ride a bus. I had left the bus and hitchhiked. So now, 20 years later, I found myself at the bottom of an interstate ramp with my thumb out. Traveling with no vehicle, I couldn’t help but think I was truly on the “free” way. Money doesn’t help, in fact, even the state trooper that stopped to run my license didn’t want to bother with me because there was no money involved.

My next 36 hours getting to Brooklyn was spent walking backwards, shifting my bags from side to side, and all the while trying to keep a thumb out. Trying to look every car’s driver in the eye as they went by while wondering what looks more convincing, a smirk of hate because of how much it sucks to be standing on the side of a highway sweating under the sun and breathing the exhaust of everyone that blasts by you, or smiling like a deranged lunatic that finds none of this bothersome. When I did get rides, it could have been an HBO series spinoff “Hitchhikers’ Confessions,” as people from every walk of life picked me up and told me about every aspect of their lives as we burned up the miles. Already being in a shell-shocked state, this was a much needed distraction for me. It also convinced me that when I would got back to KY, I would get my bike running again and keep it dependable. Arriving in Brooklyn two hours before the first services, I started meeting up with everyone else that I knew. These people had dropped what they were doing too, and came from all over the world to give strength to the Seeger family. What I soon learned more and more was that the strength being given was that of the Seeger family, and we were the recipients. The comfort that I wished I could give was given unto me. The closure that I had sought became more of an opening with love and admiration for the family.

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And this is just another experience where if I just open my heart and eyes, I will see more of what is in front of me. Aidan will always have a posse!

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