Presidential State Of The Union

In a perfect world......

Presidential State of the Union Address:

"My Fellow Americans: As you all know, the defeat of the Iraq regime has been completed. Since Congress does not want to spend any more money on this war, our mission in Iraq is complete.

This morning I gave the order for a complete removal of all American forces from Iraq. This action will be complete within 30 days. It is now time to begin the reckoning.

Before me, I have two lists. One list contains the names of countries which have stood by our side during the Iraq conflict. This list is short. The United Kingdom, Spain, Bulgaria, Australia, and Poland are some of the countries listed there.

The other list contains every one not on the first list. Most of the world's nations are on that list. My press secretary will be distributing copies of both lists later this evening.

Let me start by saying that effective immediately, foreign aid to those nations on list #2 ceases immediately and indefinitely. The money saved during the first year alone will pretty much pay for the costs of the Iraqi war. THEN EVERY YEAR THERE AFTER IT'LL GO TO OUR SOCIAL SECURITY SYSTEM SO IT WON'T GO BROKE IN 20 YEARS.

The American people are no longer going to pour money into third world 'Hellholes' and watch those government leaders grow fat on corruption. Need help with a famine? Wrestling with an epidemic? Call France.

In the future, together with Congress, I will work to redirect this money toward solving the vexing social problems we still have at home.

On that note, a word to terrorist organizations; screw with us and we will hunt you down and eliminate you and all your friends from the face of the earth. Thirsting for a gutsy country to terrorize? Try France or maybe China.

I am ordering the immediate severing of diplomatic relations with France, Germany, and Russia. Thanks for all your help, comrades. We are retiring from NATO as well. Bonne chance, mez amies.

I have instructed the Mayor of New York City to begin towing the many UN-diplomatic vehicles located in Manhattan with more than two unpaid parking tickets to sites where those vehicles will be stripped, shredded and crushed. I don't care about whatever treaty pertains to this. You creeps have tens of thousands of unpaid tickets. Pay those tickets tomorrow or watch your precious Benzes, Beamers and Limos be turned over to some of the finest chop shops in the world. I love New York.

A special note to our neighbors. Canada is on list #2. Since we are likely to be seeing a lot more of each other, you folks might want to try not pissing us off for a change.

Mexico is also on list #2, its president and his entire corrupt government really need an attitude adjustment. I will have a couple extra thousand tanks and infantry divisions sitting around. Guess where I am going to put 'em? Yep, border security.

Oh, by the way, the United States is abrogating the NAFTA treaty - starting now. We are tired of the one-way highway and, immediately, we'll be drilling for oil in Alaska - which will take care of this country's oil needs for decades to come. If you're an environmentalist who opposes this decision, I refer you to list #2 above: pick a country and move there.

It is time for America to focus on its own welfare and its own citizens. Some will accuse us of isolationism. I answer them by saying, 'darn tootin'.

Nearly a century of trying to help folks live a decent life around the world has only earned us the undying enmity of just about everyone on the planet. It is time to eliminate hunger in America. It is time to eliminate homelessness in America.

To the Nations on list #1, a final thought. Thank you guys. We owe you and we won't forget.

To the nations on list #2, a final thought: You might want to learn to speak Arabic.

God Bless America. Thank you and good night."

OK, I can dream can't I? Darn tootin.

Our Congress At Work

If you think our Congress is earning their 6 figure paychecks, just watch this video and decide for yourself if our tax dollars are being used wisely.



So while we all pay at the pump for environmentalist lobbying against drilling for American oil, we polute the environment with Mercury. Gosh, knowing our government, why does this not surprise me?

For all you Hilary supporters out there, consider this: As a member of Congress, Hilary Clinton holds the record in history for voting yes on the most bills that spend the most tax dollars for things such as this. Are you ready to forfeit even more of your paycheck to pay Congressmen/women for work like this?

It's time to force the government to acknowledge the term "public servant". What are YOU going to do about it?

Bravo Rep. Poe from Texas.

Tip of the day: Buy stock in Duct Tape.

Thanking Those Who Defend Your Freedom

Being a Freedom Fighter isn't all politicians and legislation. It's also about supporting those who fight next to you, and for you. RC posted a great video sent to him by Papa John, illustrating a universal hand sign for "Thank You" that each and every one of us should be practicing. Check it out here.

Because I travel extensively in my job, I am in airports often. I make a point to address soldiers personally and thank them. They are often alone, and some seem to welcome conversation about where they have been and where they are going. Most are very young, and as a mother, I am struck by just how young they are and feel a strong sympathy for their families.

I know that not all people are as bold as I am, and might feel uncomfortable in addressing them in such a personal way, and some soldiers may also feel uncomfortable. And perhaps when you see a soldier you may be in a hurry to get somewhere and don't have time to stop and chat or vice versa. The universal sign for Thank You is the perfect way to let them know you care and appreciate what they do to protect your freedom. It's such a simple and easy thing to do.

These young boys and girls face atrocities most of us only hear about. Even though the nightmare of war affects fewer of our military than in past wars, that doesn't make it any less important. However, everyone should be aware and understand how significant that statement is when you consider what military personnel has gone through in past wars, and are still facing the aftermath of every day of their lives. Many of whom were spit on when they returned home.

I'm talking about our Veterans. The Vietnam Vets, those of Desert Storm, and many already in Hospitals resulting from injuries and trauma in the Iraqi war. For them, the war will never end.

Yesterday, I accompanied a group of people to the Veterans Hospital in Lake City, FL. This visit was planned and arranged by my friend Jewels (check out a past post on Jewels here), who is a National member of Rolling Thunder, a group dedicated to American POW/MIA soldiers and Veterans of all wars.

That's our Jewels, front and center with the ladened vest. And that's RC being conspicuously inconspicuous in the center back, and me kneeling on the left. The baby carriage holds two "mascot" Chihuahua's, always a hit with those interred in a hospital. Many thanks to Jewels for her big heart and huge efforts in making this visit happen and continue to happen for these deserving souls.

Some of the group dared the predicted thunder storms and rode their bikes, some rode in cars. We were to have lunch with these resident Vets and provide some light in their otherwise routine lives of dealing with any number of disabilities, in a place they have no choice in living.

Our gift to them was us. And it left me with even more respect for those who fight for my freedom. They sacrificed their own well being and happiness for me. For each and every one of us. It was the least I could do; so small of an effort for me, and so huge of a joy for them.

Let me describe to you some of what I saw there:

The hospital looked like most any other hospital; cleaner and nicer than some VA hospitals, and less than others. None that I've been in look like or feel like home. I know. Because of my job, I have been in many hospitals, including VA hospitals, around the country. I did see a view of a garden area where some residents can partake of gardening.

One delightful and very coherent man of an older age, probably of the Vietnam era, was confined to a wheelchair. On his head he wore a red, white and blue do-rag, and his chair was adorned with other American flag elements. He had lost one leg at the hip, and had no use of the other. He told me that the VA had sent him home at one point, but could not provide consistent nursing care for him, so he demanded to come back. He had no choice.

Another young man, with bright strawberry blond hair and the manners of a southern gentleman, who couldn't have been older than 40, was relegated to a walker due to back and leg injuries. I suspect his injuries also included brain or mental injuries as well, as he became overly tired after only an hour visit. But he was so obviously delighted to have the attention from women other than nurses, that I was reluctant to circulate more than I did. He was a delightful man, and was very proud of the lifelong military service his father contributed, and obviously his own as well.

Some of the vets in wheelchairs could not feed themselves, but were delighted to have someone assist. Many were quite aged, and some were very young men. A few had family members present, and their misty eyes matched ours throughout the entire visit. They know all too well the needs of these special people.

Some of the men could not respond to much of anything, yet if you looked closely enough, you knew they loved having us there.

As in the rides I participate in with the Patriot Guard, this visit will not be the last.

I went home to my big house, my daughter (who is home for the summer), and my computer; to write about this experience in hopes of convincing my readers to give a bit of your time to the Vets in your community. To get involved with an organization that contributes to our fallen soldiers; be they disabled Vets, or those who come home to bereaved families. It takes so little, and gives so much back.

It doesn't require a motorcycle, or anything else, except compassion and respect for those who gave the ultimate sacrifice; their lives, their well-being, their everyday joys in life. All because they were asked to serve, and many who wanted to serve. Their lives have been changed forever, in a service that directly affects each and every one of us. It's not about whether the war is right or wrong, it's about those who served in the name of the Freedom all Americans benefit from.

A quick Google search on Veterans will turn up many ways to volunteer a bit of your time. I have a busy life, like most people. It isn't about what I receive in doing this. However, in giving a small amount of my time to these Veterans and their families, I have received joy back tenfold in seeing the delight on the faces of those who get very little joy in life anymore.

Visit the Patriot Guard website. There are groups all over the country now. Membership is FREE, but no one must be a member to volunteer and participate. Most are motorcyclists, but owning or riding one is not a prerequisite. This organization is dedicated to protecting and preserving the Honor and Respect of our fallen soldiers and their families. Motorcyclist or not, you'll meet some of the most wonderful people, guaranteed.

Visit the Rolling Thunder website too. The link goes to their "About Us" fact sheet. These men and women volunteer their time selflessly and diligently to provide a better life for those who have served. Many of them Veterans themselves.

Both organizations are not-for-profit, yet contribute so much to our armed services.

Show your gratitude for the men and women of our armed forces. Because of them you live free.

Old School, New School, or In-Between School

When it comes to being a Biker, I've never thought of myself as "Old School". Most tell me I can't possibly be Old School because I'm of the female persuasion. In that case, I'm not. And though I've ridden one bike or another since my teens, which seems to be a prerequisite, I still don't see myself belonging to that cliche with any real conviction. Then again, what is Old School? A mentality? A way of life? What you ride? How you ride?

I think my good buddy, RC of Big Bend Bikers For Freedom could answer that question better than me. You see, he epitomizes Old School to me. I've heard some stories from him that would raise the hair on your arms, and some that made me cry with laughter. At the time, I thought, good Lord man, how have you lived this long? Then I'd think, well, my own family and friends have wondered the same thing about me. Yet my stories are vastly different than his.

RC is not a 1%'er, but I know he knows a few. There is no better friend than RC. I know RC always has my back, and I know he reciprocates the respect I hold for him without question. I remember bikers from my youth who could be RC this many years after. So, ya, he's "Old School" to me. And he's my brother.

Life for a woman is vastly different than for a man. Being a wife and mother trumps how often you get to ride, or even if you get to own your own ride. While men seem to have the option to make riding a priority, regardless of family. Funny how that is. Like most wives and mothers, my options were interrupted many times throughout my life. But the love for riding was always there, and I rode when I could, and owned when I could.

My experiences and memories are probably much like RC's, just on a different plane. I managed to skirt the law on many occasions, while still doing anything I damn well pleased, and though I didn't have a label for it at the time, unconventional was always the mode of operation. My life has always been "never a dull moment". I like it that way and you can't have that without risk or mistakes. Even with all the bumps in the road, I wouldn't do anything differently. Except perhaps to take even more risks than I did. Life is too short not to, but you don't learn that until you've lived more than a few decades.

Does "Old School" mean you have a long pony-tail (I have one of those), or a long beard? (Alas, I can't grow a beard.) But most of those I see as Old School have both. I still long for the days of motoring down the highway, going wherever for the day, in jeans, tank, boots, and bandana (they didn't have "do-rags" back then). Cars moved out of the way for you, mothers hid their children. It was a culture and a lifestyle that "good and simple" folk labeled outlaw. They didn't understand (and still don't) that it's all about nonconformity and being free to be who you want to be and who you really are. It makes me smile to myself, because most of those "Old School" Bikers have professional jobs like anyone else, and are contributing citizens of this country. The Biker lifestyle is simply that; no different than any other mode of dress or activity that individuals choose to love and own, and not let anyone gainsay them.

If anything, I think I'm really both - Old School and New School. I love that my bike fires up without stressing my ankle with a kick-starter. Both my ankles are old and tired some days now. And I especially love that I can ride for hours and not feel the engine vibration for the next three days after.

So sue me. Civilization advances, and so does technology. Back in the day, a custom or home built chopper was the only way to have one. Now you can buy one that is already "driveway trained". (For all you newbies, that means it doesn't drip oil all over the driveway or garage.) It wasn't even all that long ago before Harley redesigned their engine mounts to alleviate the engine vibration for the rider. My Dyna vibrates all over the place when I'm at a stoplight, but my body doesn't. How cool is that?

After-Market companies make seats that allows your derriere to continue normal circulation after 30 minutes of riding. That one thing alone would have been novel back in the the early days of riding on a seat that looked (and felt) like an inverted sauce pan.

I think Old School Bikers are the ones who were around to remember all those things; like when people had a healthy respect for them as Bikers, and cops didn't hassle you in every town, and politicians weren't so intent on removing the right to ride as you wish. My dad used to say, "when I was your age, I walked to school in the snow, uphill both ways". An Old School Biker says to his kid, "when I was your age, I had to kick start my bike, and Iron Butt rides really did give you an iron butt".

And perhaps that's why many of them are staunch Freedom Fighters. They remember the days of Easy Rider and life was good. Like RC does. And in that respect, maybe like me too. Though I doubt I'll be growing a beard anytime soon.

So I found this web page that has a quiz, to see if you're "Old School" or "New School", and I thought, OK, I'll bite. Could be a good laugh. And it was. Even funnier to me was the result, which I've posted below. Check it out and have a good laugh yourself. Take the Quiz. Be honest too, because regardless of the outcome, or how you see yourself, the love for riding and the lifestyle it represents is all that matters.

Are you an Old School Biker Your Result: You are old school You are a part of the true biker community. You probably understand the meaning of brotherhood and look after those you ride with as family. Ride Hard - Die Free is not just a fancy patch you bought at a bike rally. You probably ride your bike to Bike Week no matter how far it is. Bikers like you are hard to come by. Keep the shiny side up.
You are new school
Are you an Old School Biker Take More Quizzes

Old School, or New School, ride hard, ride long, ride free. In the end, it's the freedom to be who you are that counts.

Life Goes On

I apologize for another long absence from writing. I've got good excuses. Shut up. You knew I would.

A few weeks ago, I visited my doctor, who did a complete work-up because I've been so damn tired lately. I am pretty much a "weenie" when it comes to being sick, so I visit the doc whenever I'm not up to par, no matter how much I dislike going. The outcome was, I had a bad case of walking-pneumonia. I've had the "P" word quite a few times over my lifetime, and as they say, it is always worse each time. The solution was a heavy dose of antibiotics.

And, as my immune system was taking a beating, I caught a dose of the Flu as well, which compounded things. I managed to fight off the lung infection, but ended up with weeks of coughing and congestion anyway. I need a vacation, but work keeps interfering. So I took a few days of sick leave, and managed to sleep through them without answering the phone. Well, I still had to let the dogs out, and answer the door. I don't know about you, but I can't let someone ring the doorbell without opening the door to see what they want.

Nevertheless, my physical health is on the mend. Life goes on.

My job dictates that I travel on occasion, and I've just returned from a trip to Canada where I got a good dose of French/Canadian dislike of English speaking visitors. The US is not the only country that objects to language issues. The "war" between the French speaking east side of Canada, and the English speaking left-coast, is well known in Canada. I was aware of it, though I'd never experienced any of it.

The city of Montreal is actually a very cool place to visit, with it's beautiful Basilicas (churches) and historical architecture mingling among the tall modern downtown buildings, and I managed to get a few days of R&R while there. And a lot of exercise. You don't drive anywhere in Montreal unless you need to go miles away. You can walk 8 blocks faster than driving because of the traffic. It reminded me of Manhattan, only cleaner and more interesting.

Everyone speaks French in the Province of Quebec, but inside Montreal city proper, most also speak fairly good English. Go outside of downtown however, and the disdain for English-only is very evident. And since I was raised in the Southwest, my second language (barely) was Spanish, and I confess to not having any clue of what French words mean beyond the standard greetings. Finding a simple convenience store was even difficult. I'm not sure what the sign pictured means, or even how to pronounce it. Personally, it looks misspelled....

Underneath downtown Montreal lies a huge shopping mall. You could enter at some point, wander for hours, and resurface miles from your origination and not have a clue where you are without a city map. It is termed the "underground city" by locals, and is exactly that. A person could live in downtown Montreal (if you can afford the 1/4 million dollar apartment, or 1 million dollar condo) and never need to go anywhere else for anything. You would not even need a car, nor could you afford one.

As in every foreign city, and Montreal was indeed foreign to me, there are those who take advantage of visitors who don't speak the language. Specifically taxi drivers.

On my first day of work after arriving, I requested a taxi instead of the six-block walk, which I knew would make me cough more. The taxi driver took me miles from my destination, and dropped me off before I knew I was at the wrong place. Log $15.

Then I took another taxi and instructed him more clearly where I wanted to go, and ended up driving around for an hour looking for the right address. Apparently this taxi driver could not speak ANY English, but was better at masking that fact than the first one. Log $30 for that fare.

Eventually I arrived at the correct destination. I can still hear that cabbie in my mind, counting his exorbitant fare, and laughing at the "stoopid American". No matter, because I got myself a map, and used sign language for all other taxi rides.

And no big city is complete without panhandlers. I'm the first person to help someone out when they need it, but it still appalls me when I see such blatant scamming. The dramatic, tearful, performances designed to scam money from tourists were annoying.

I particularly liked the Door Man at the posh hotel I stayed in. Clearly Hispanic, but spoke French and English well, all laced with a Hispanic accent and something that sounded Bronx-ish. He'd had the job for 20 years and clearly liked it. I watched him manage the front walkway with efficiency, directing taxi drivers, carrying baggage, and opening doors. All with a no-nonsense manner and complete servitude toward the hotel patrons. He said he was uneducated, but loved his job, and mostly that he earned his own keep and never had to ask for any handouts. He ran off bums trolling for spare change with the tenacity of a Bull Dog after the neighborhood cat. And he always had a charming smile for me.

Now I'm back home, thankfully, in the mostly English speaking US. And life goes on.

Overshadowing everything else in my life, I've been thrust into a place I never wanted to be again - the loss of a dear and close friend. One who has been a part of my life for many years. In-between work and other aspects of my life, I have these moments of dead space where I feel lost and without purpose. Memories of happy times, both recent and years ago, pop into my head unbidden, and threaten to overtake my emotions and sanity. Enough to make me question my own convictions about everything. I come back to reality hearing my daughter ask, "Mom? Are you OK?".

I've been asked before why I prefer to live alone, why I won't let anyone get close to me, and why I take such a hard-nosed position about many things. And the answer is, I can always trust myself explicitly. I don't deceive myself, or lead myself to believe that anything is forever. Most of the time. I make of my life what it is, and have only myself to blame if it goes awry.

It's lonely sometimes, but preferable sometimes to the loss of that part of myself I would give away to another. And when you do, because everything tells you it's the right thing to do, and ignoring such a joy in life is a slight on the One who gave you the opportunity to have it, nothing ever prepares you for losing it. To that end, I have only a few close friends that I've allowed to know who I truly am, without reservation.

We all have our protection methods; that which we use to protect ourselves from pain. Sometimes you take the risk and lose anyway. And the pain of losing is always more severe when you have no control, when nothing you could do would change the outcome. Your trust in everything basically goes to hell-in-a-hand-basket for awhile. And life is built on trust.

And it is a shock to the psyche losing someone that close to you, close enough to finish your sentences for you without thinking, who instinctively knows every facet of your personality because you are so much alike, and who you believe will always be there. It is like leaning on a railing that is suddenly gone, and you fall - a very long way down.

Each of us recovers in a different way. The answer for me has always been to throw myself into the world at large, and fill up the void with outside stimulation; that space in your life that used to be peaceful, happy and carefree because of another, who is now gone. People you know cheerfully and with good intentions tell you, "when one door shuts, two more open", "time heals all", yada, yada. OK, sage advice. It does nothing, however, to stop the unwanted and sudden trips; very much like walking into a dark room with no exit door - no sight, no sound, only your sadness.

I know I'll survive, because I've had to do it before, even if that was a lifetime ago. But it forever changes your life, how you see life, and has for me, again. And I am left with wondering who I am now, because a part of me is gone, with a loss I could not prevent, did not want, and never contemplated. And I can only blame myself really. Maybe blame no one. It just is, no matter how unwanted, unfair, or unjust, it seems to be.

The one thing I can cling to is that God will show me His reasons, and help me find my way until I feel my feet on solid ground again with a clear path ahead. Time is always the answer, but time always goes at its own speed.

Life is short, relatively speaking. That's what justifies the decision I made to let someone in, losing part of myself in the process. When it's a gift from God, I will always accept, for it isn't often that anyone is given such a gift. The greater the gift, the greater the pain of losing it.

God giveth, God taketh away, and life goes on. I have a little catching up to do now. I guess I'd better get busy. Right after I take a good long ride on the bike and think about nothing for a very long time.

Top 100 Motorcycle Blogs: Motorcycle Treasures

I've recently discovered (much to my surprise) that Sam I Am is listed in the Top 100 Motorcycle Blogs on another blog, authored by Cristian Dorobantescu of Bucharest, Romania.

First, let me tell you that there is something for every motorcyclist in this list. I didn't highlight any of them here, because there are too many to list and Cristian already has them listed. Take the time and cruise through them.

Cristian has done some very cool interviews with other motorcycle blog authors as well, so don't stop at the blog list when you visit his site.

We all know that one website leads to another, and another from there. And in exploring Cristian's list of motorcycle blogs, I ran across some treasures you may not be aware of.

• For the serious customizer, of any type of bike, you simply MUST look at this website. It'll make you drool and start up a savings account just to buy some of their customized artistry.

Chrome Fusion Custom Engraving
Chrome Fusion eBay Online Store

• For very cool videos and slide shows of women riders, check out this site:

YouTube's Freak~N~Leather

I clicked on their main website, but it must be under construction as the Products page would not open for me. Keep trying. Judging from the videos I watched, it may be a nice resource for leather goods.

• Here's a site I couldn't pass up, even though it's not a motorcycle blog:

NOT NEWS by Drew Curtis' Fark.com

The reality of life often invokes the most laughter.

Then I came upon this motorcycle safety video.....


And this motorcycle awareness vid.....


Neither of which I'd seen before.

Lots more interested me, especially all the great ride stories and awesome photos. Happy surfing.

Clarification on Scooters

In response to a few emails I've received resulting from my last post, I'd like to clarify the purpose of the post. It stemmed from the on-going discrimination the media has for American Bikers. So I'm gonna jump on my soapbox for a moment and vent.

I do not judge anyone on their ride. Many ride Vespas and the like. It is their preference for their two-wheeled pleasure, just as my Dyna is mine. Some prefer to tour the countryside in cages, but those of us who prefer the two-wheeled ride love it for a variety of reasons.

Each of us is unique in our preferences, and that includes our rides. Some like pink, some like chrome, and some like fast. To each his own.


I am sick to death of being "labeled" by the media as a "noise polluter", "rabble rouser", "drunk" and having a "death wish", simply because I ride a big cruiser. I enjoy my ride for many personal reasons, with fuel conservation being but one of those.

Ya, that's me, and I ride a big machine because I love the sound, the look, and the power. My pipes are after-market but are still within the limits of any noise ordinance. I have no desire to ride beyond the limits of the law.

What I ride doesn't mean I am a drunk, or a party animal, or have a "death wish". I hold an engineering position with a global company, have a family, and put my drawers on one leg at a time, same as anyone else.

Sure, there are always those few who cross the line. The "mean" drunk, who also happens to ride a motorcycle, wear leather and gets in a fight. Don't other mean drunks do that too? I'm a mother, and there are bad mothers out there. Does that make me one too? I lived in the Boston area for a time, and each year during sports playoffs, people died due to over-zealous fans, yet society tolerates sports fans as though it were a religion. Yet motorcyclists are lumped into one category and attacked from all directions; directly or indirectly.

In the article highlighted in my last post, the media seemed to take great delight in letting the public know of all these "energy conscious" individuals, who suddenly found the need to buy a two-wheeled conveyance, for whatever reason, and have become paragons of society by attempting to preserve energy. Excuse me? There are hundreds of thousands already out there doing that.

Yet, when a motorcyclist dies at the fault of an inattentive driver who violated their right-of-way, their death is blamed on not wearing a helmet, by the same reporters and online journalists who wrote this "feel-good" article.

We already deal with inaccurate statistics the government likes to use as reason for more regulation that etches away at our freedoms. Sadly, more untrained, unsafe, Moped riders will occupy the roadways because of the energy crisis, and many of them will die because our government refuses to acknowledge that the major cause of motorcycle deaths are those who drive cages and ignore simple driving laws.

Many journalists are now adding the terms "old, fat, balding, long beards, and/or long gray ponytails" to the description of "bikers". At 52 I may be labeled as "old" by some, but none of the other terms fit me, or many others. The media seems intent on stereotyping, and/or segregating out those who ride the larger more powerful machines as being a pariah of society. By labeling us this way, they take journalistic license in creating this "picture" for the rest of society who doesn't know any better.

In 40 years, if I live that long, that will be me in the cartoon, except I'll still be wearing my leathers, and piss on anyone who doesn't like it.

The American Biker IS a "Brotherhood". What they look like has nothing to do with anything. Riding free is just an extension of living free; being who you are, and not giving a rat's ass what others think. And once again, society (and the media) adds labels and descriptions because we aren't mainstream. I often feel as though the media would rather print, "another disgusting biker has been culled from this world", because many of their articles say the same in so many words.

Well, I know hundreds of bikers, and none of them are disgusting. They all have families and those who love them, and who they love. They hold positions of integrity in the working world, just as other non-riders do. With all the laws against hatred and bigotry in this country, it amazes me that our society allows this type of discrimination to continue and does not recognize it for what it is.

This "biker" is Richard Quigley, who successfully beat multitudes of court cases in his lifetime, all in the name of freedom. He had more integrity than anyone I know. HE would not stand for anyone taking away his freedom, or any other biker, and lived his life to that end.

I ride with clean-cut businessmen, long-haired, bearded, tattoo artists, women of all ages, mothers, daughters, sons and fathers. We ride in support of our troops, we ride to end the fight against breast cancer, and we ride for those of us who have fallen. I can't say the same for a good many other people in this world.

Does running out and buying a Moped to save you bucks at the fuel pump put you in that category? Not in my book. So why would I get all warm and fuzzy over that article? I'd rather go for the government jugular, for THEY put us into this energy crisis, not the American people, not the oil companies. Politically incorrect to the end, and proud of it.

No, I really don't care what you ride. I hope to leave a reader with a fire in your gut to stand up for what is rightfully yours; freedom to ride what you want, where you want, wear what you want, and be who you are.

And if it affects those rights, I'll write about it here, guaranteed.

If anything, part of my "personal war" is on the overwhelming state of apathy in this world. I love what I do, what I ride, where I live and work. And I'd fight to the end to keep it all, even if I have to personally object to stupid, narrow-minded journalists who spout propaganda that threatens those freedoms.

And I would inspire others to do the same.

"The price of apathy towards public affairs is to be ruled by evil men." ~ Plato