HELL NIGHT

By STIX DOUGLAS


When the weather turns cold and all the leaves have fallen from the trees, the best part of the riding season draws to a close in the Great State of Missouri. It is about that time I will often reminisce about some of my more recent traveling adventures.
But with having taken so many of these expeditions, my thoughts about them often becomes a pleasant stroll down memory lane that only improves, over time, while many get bitter sweet with age. But, there is always one that is and will remain being the exception. It was during a 24-hour period as I was returning from yet another of my many Sturgis excursions.

To fully grasp that day and get the full impact you would first have to understand and know what led up to it prior.

I had planned for this particular ride to be the ultimate. One in which to expand my comfort zone, stretch my horizons a bit further, and by pressing the envelope to make it not only the longest but I would also be riding through more states of any of my Touring endeavors to date.
Using two weeks of my vacation, instead of the usual one, I thought I would be making it easier on myself by traveling alone. My reasoning in theory were I could travel at my own pace and do more miles without anyone slowing me down. There was a certain optomism that I had thinking this journey would also be one of my most memorable. In a lot of ways, it became that way, but for the wrong reasons.

When I first left out on this particular tour I had first headed to Ontario, Canada for a Provincial HOG Rally, and had enjoyed visiting and riding with Suzie Sydney while we collected points for the ABC's of Touring.

It was two days after leaving from there, that I had ridden over 1,000 miles in a single day and then had the misfortune of laying my Harley down as I arrived into Sturgis.
I managed to repair the bike myself, but was in alot of pain, from an ankle injury caused during the accident.

Against my better judgment, and even after the accident I had refused to vary from my original plan and was even more determined to go through with completing the entire route as scheduled.

It was now, well into the second week of this journey, and I had only slept two nights on a mattress since my departure. My body was well tenderized from the combination of the pains and sleep depravation. I was unaware I was making the perfect formula for a disaster.

I was neither well rested nor was I feeling my best on that particular day, as I left Nevada. I had gotten up to get an early start expecting to beat the heat. But it was of no use. The un-relenting dry desert heat was persistent. The overnight low temperature had only gone down to 90*F. I was totally unaware of the impact the heat was having upon me.








As I pulled into Kingston AZ I seen a rather enormous Cactus near the towns Informational Center. It reminded me that I wanted some digital photos of these magnificent Sawarro cactus. I walked inside and was given directions on where to be able to find them in their nature habitat. I figured it would be well worth the effort. But the detoured route took me several hours and a couple extra hundred miles off course far deeper into the state and on some of the worst single lane, semi paved, and twisted back roads that could NOT have been imagined. It was far worse and more than aggravating to be able to get back onto my homeward heading.

It was late in the afternoon by the time I reached Prescott. Unknowingly I had been traveling a little faster than the required speed limit as I hustled through town. My hands were shaking and I wasn’t sure if it was because of my nerves caused by the uncertainty of the roads getting to there, or if it was just because I had not eaten yet all day, which would make things even more dangerous. I just should have slowed down then.

Unable to find a suitable place to eat I kept going and had turned my attention to the freshly paved black asphalt that had also been freshly painted. I failed to notice a signal light up ahead that had just changed, and unaware of the Traffic already moving into the intersection, when I did, it was nearly too late.
I applied both brakes hard enough to cause the bike to go into a skid, turning it to slide sideways. The bike came to a paused stop as the momentum slowly lifted itself back up into its upright position right along side the car driven by an startled elderly woman, whom had also just come to an abrupt stop. It was a very close call and a collision could have easily have taken place, that would have been my fault.

My nerves were completely shot. All I could do was apologize, as I pushed the bike out of the intersection, and onto the shoulder as I tried to calm down. It was at that point that I realized I had been making way too many mistakes and things had just gotten out of hand. The domino theory of the events of this day were becoming obvious and were clicking in succession.
It was then that I realized I was starving, and pulled into a Blimpies Sandwich Shop in Cottonwood, AZ. While I ate inside I took another look over the maps once again and tried to re-evaluate my situation. Having taken the detoured route for the Cactus photos I was now much further south. Having planned on spending the night at the rest stop near Winslow, AZ. I was still several hours and nearly 200 miles away. But then if I made it to there I knew I would be back on schedule.

I was hoping that the next day I could be “standin’ on a corner in Winslow, Arizona” But as I arrived in Winslow late that evening, there where massive amounts of surface and major road re-construction taking place.

Even the interstate highway overpasses were shut down. Which meant that the rest stop I had expected to spend the night at was unfortunately closed as well. It was being used as the storage depot area.

I felt stunned and shocked being totally unprepared and unsure of what to do next. I immediately pulled into a restaurant at one of the Winslow exits. I sipped a few cups of coffee while I briefly looked over the Road Atlas and studied over the state map once again. Realizing there wouldn’t be another rest stop until the state line.

I was dumfounded when I got back out on the Highway and the first sign I happen to see was for the Petrified Forest National Park. That's when I remembered on an earlier trip, that there was a roadside park on the eastern side of that exit.

I suddenly got this Euphoria that everything was going to be “okay” the closer I got. Maybe I was already delusional. Or that it was just wishful thinking. The marathon of riding hundreds of miles that day coupled with the intensity of the heat had diffenantly taken its toll.

I was more than a little tired and it was well after midnight by the time I pulled into that roadside park. Having already been in the saddle of that motorcycle for more than seventeen hours that day. I rolled the bike in quietly trying not to disturb others and parked close to what looked like a pavilion that had a picnic table under it that was the furthest away from everything else.

I noticed water standing in places as the ground was completely saturated. Which caused me to be even more careful as I carried my gear to the picnic table nearby.
Once the bike was unloaded I treated myself to a late night snack, finishing off the rest of the sandwich I had saved from earlier. Then I got situated to laid down for what I thought would have been some much needed and well-deserved rest.

As I stretched out on the top of that picnic table I was physically and mentally exhausted from the entire days ride. Tossing the blanket over me as I covered myself up and had just closed my eyes. I was moments away from dozing off into a restful bliss. When all of a sudden I felt something touch my nose.
At first I thought to myself “That’s strange, must be my imagination.” Then it happened again, only this time it felt wet. Immediately I thought “Could this be a leak? “

My eyes opened and I blinked as I looked up taking a moment for them to focus as I felt several more drops. “How can this be?” I thought as I realized that I was now looking at the sky through where a roof should have been. “Did someone steal the roof? Or was it under construction too?” Then it dawned on me as I realize this wasn’t a pavilion at all but rather what is called a Pergola that was only designed to shade the picnic table area from the sun.

Just then the skies opened up, and suddenly there was a loud crack of Thunder and within seconds rain was pouring down in buckets. I grabbed all that I could carry and in two trips quickly moved everything across the parking lot to a pavilion that “DID” have a ”shingled roof”

Once I finally got situated I then climbed onto that picnic table and begun stretching out once more as I tossed my fleece blanket over me. Considering the fact that I had now solved the crisis and that I could finally get that much needed and uninterrupted sleep.

Laying back down I closed my eyes and was just getting relaxed when I heard the loudest most awful screech followed by with what sounded like a collision of two cars colliding at a high-speed impact. The sound was so loud and so close that it scared and startled me. I literally jumped up thinking it was right there on top of me.

Before I could turn around I heard an ear splitting sound of a train whistle blowing at full volume from less than 100 feet away. How does it get any better than this? I thought to myself.

For the remainder of the night I was gnashing my teeth with each sound. Nearly every 15 minutes after that was constantly being interrupted with trains, train whistles, Trains passing by or latching on and or shunting one another. When it wasn’t the trains it was the roaring sounds or the cracking of Thunder. I was feeling each fiber of my hair standing up on the back of my neck as the breeze from the storm ripped though. There was nothing I could do. The harder that I tried to shut everything out the more noise there seemed to be. It was “hellish” to say the least.

For hours on end throughout the night the sounds continued to haunt me. Then early in the morning during what is referred to as the predawn the Thunder finally had quit rumbling. The rain had stopped, as the worse of the storm had finally passed. The train’s noises quit and the quiet and solitude of another day were at hand. My bloodshot eyes hurt as I tried in vain to fall asleep. But there would be neither peace nor any rest for me there.

The busy hustle and bustle of the early morning commuters had filled the streets and with them came the splashing sounds made from the puddles of the standing water that now seemed to become amplified. That was it; I couldn’t take it any longer. Miserable would vaguely relate to the intensity of how I felt when I got up.

Reluctantly I loaded everything back up on the bike and then headed back to the Petrified Forest National Park thinking I could at least get my first morning cup of coffee there.

At the entrance of the park I stopped to take a picture and then realized after reading another sign nearby that the parks facilities wouldn’t officially be open for at least another half hour. So rather than wait I got back on the bike figuring my time would be best served on the road heading on my way back home.

Gloomy looking patches of low ceiling clouds gave the morning a rather futuristic and supernatural appearance that was still evident as I exited Arizona.
Raindrops began to fall once again just as I turned off the exit headed into the state Information/Rest stop inside New Mexico. Parking the bike under one of the roofed picnic table areas as I stretched out.

When I finally awoke later, I felt I had fully recovered, the “power nap” had served its purpose and that rest two hours had done me a world of good. I felt much more relaxed and totally refreshed.

But it wasn’t until that moment that all of the things that had led up to this really hit me. I realized that I had just experenced the worst night of my life while on the road touring.

I got to thinking, "Who in their right mind would ever attempt to travel 7,000 miles in two weeks, or to have done it alone or the way I done it?

It was then that part of the puzzle sort of fell into place and I had come to my own life's terms and it became crystal clear to me that I had already spent a lifetime doing things the hard way. It is just something within my own nature that I have not been able to choose to have the control over. For instance when you ride alone you are not as aware of your own mistakes. (There is no one to correct or to argue with you.) I had learned a valueable lessons. But I have already learned plenty.

I am very thankful to have had this exerperence and for it to be behind me. THere are always those things that have a way of happening that are unplanned and out of our control, but the way I see it I am convinced that it could have been a lot worse.

The benifit is knowing and passing that information on. Be careful what you wish for or be willing to suffer the consequences…..

The other thing that stuck out about this tour that I would like to say is..."You just can’t force yourself to have the worst night of your life while Motorcycle Touring; it is as if, when or if the time ever comes ... it find's you. "

Another lesson learnt the hard way. Fatigue is no reason to keep going on. Being in a hurry will only get you killed or injured. And it is better to be late when arriving, then to not make it at all.

I guess if the truth were to be told then the secret to all of this would be to not let any of this bother us, but to accept it, and learn from it before moving on.
I can’t believe the amount of mistakes I had made and yet am still alive to be able to tell about it.

Thus that maybe my reason and or another purpose for my life. That’s why I am STIX DOUGLAS…. and I ride!

Thinking back I believe this was not for my own benefit but rather it was for the benefit of others, that bringing this to you, for you to heed my advice.

Be Safe, or you’ll be sorry….

Memories of the Quebec Provincial Rally

By S.Sydney & Stix Douglas


During the early part of the summer I was enjoying myself out on the open road travelling on the “North Eastern Tour”. Collecting points for each of the New England states for the ABC’s of Touring, I had already stopped at the Connecticut State Rally on my way up into Canada.

There were many surprises upon arriving in Quebec. Having already been told that French was the primary language spoken there, I had not experienced the language barrier in any of the other provinces previously visited. To find the Rally I resorted to “International communication” when talking with a gas station attendant. I asked “Harley Davidson Dealer?” and he pointed me in the right direction.

Fortunately it was close and easily found along the main highway. Pulling into the Dealership that morning the owner greeted me. He showed Quebec hospitality by taking his Harley and personally escorting me to where the HOG Rally was taking place.

Having ridden for nearly 2,000 miles I was more than willing to just sit and watch others enjoy the activities. While talking with so many people I was fortunate that they took the time to translate so those that did not speak very much English could understand me.

Returning to the Dealership I took pictures and participated in some of the functions that where happening there; including a bike wash and a barbecue where I enjoyed a hotdog.

In the early evening I returned to the Rally joining with the others for an evening ride, to a place that had a spectacular view to watch the sun set. It was magnificent.

Along the way I had to hit the fuel reserve switch. To assure I would have enough fuel to make it back and not be left behind, the Road Captain of the local HOG chapter escorted me up through the ranks to ride with him at the front of the group on the return trip. When the time came a few of them pulled off to escort me to the gas station. I felt I was protected and well cared for in true biker fashion.

Later that night there was live entertainment with a band and dancing. Everyone thoroughly seemed to enjoy themselves whole heartedly. The memories of the Quebec Provincial Rally were some of the most enjoyable I can remember for this year. I had the opportunity to meet a lot of friendly and very interesting people.

Even though I didn’t want it to end, as there was so much more that was to happen at the Rally, I knew I had to leave. My next stop was the Ride for Sight in Ontario the following day; but that is another story….

THUNDER ON THE PRAIRIE

Written & Edited by STIX DOUGLAS and S. Sydney


With the arrival of summer it is time to start planning my annual trek to the bikers’ Mecca in Sturgis, South Dakota.

My “Wise Guy” buddies Butch and Joe, and I will once again mount our bikes and ride to the Black Hills Rally and Races as we have for many years. In all this time we’ve also been keeping a secret about the place we stay at while we’re there; and that is about to change.

Anyone that has previously visited Sturgis knows of the many changes that have taken place over the years. Due to the increasing numbers of bikers flocking to the Rally, it has overspread a vast area. There is no way to be able to see and do everything during this time. It does however give you a good reason to return again the following year.



Tucked away like a little oasis in the desert just north of Sturgis, we’ve found Newell to be one of the most pleasant, and hospitable towns. A welcomed and wanted change to have a quiet place to go to rest, relax and unwind each night before returning to the swarming masses that congregate at the Rally each day.
Many “Sturgis Virgins” arriving at the Rally want to be a part of the action and remain immersed in the center of the crowds, the noise and excitement trying to absorb as much as they can of the hectic schedule of events at Sturgis. They may not appreciate what this town has to offer.
During Sturgis week in August this town takes on a new name: Thunder On The Prairie. They have added their own community events and offer a Bike Fest for those looking for alternate forms of entertainment away from the massive crowds with a more relaxed atmosphere. Here are some of the events taking place Rally week:
Sunday starting at 1:00 pm is Veterans Appreciation Day. Join the celebration as the community shows it appreciation to all of its Veterans and heroes. Get acquainted with the townsfolk while you, eat and enjoy live music performed on Main Street.
On Tuesday is one of last year’s most talked about events the annual Poker Run starting at Thunder on the Prairie Saloon on Main Street. Sign up begins at 1:00pm and the ride ends about 5:00pm. You can try your hand at winning, and enjoy a ride that takes you back to the days of the wagon trains following routes that will lead you through some of the best sights the area has to offer.
Thursday is the “Bull Bash” at the rodeo grounds from 1:00 until 5:00pm. Where the local cowboys try their luck at staying aboard close to a ton of fighting fury for eight seconds. This is followed at 5:00pm by the Volunteer Fireman’s BBQ and Street Dance, you definitely don’t want to miss this event. Be sure to try some of the finest BBQ Buffalo prepared and served by their Volunteer Fire Department staff. You won’t go away hungry.
Of course you may find the locals entertaining as well. There is Karaoke every night at the Newell Hotel located just across Main Street from the Thunder On The Prairie Saloon, which has drink specials all week.
Change isn’t always good, and up until recently Newell has been a well kept secret. With its website and the news spreading about this town, the future events and participants will in all probability continue to grow in number. But what won’t change are the hospitality and the genuine sincerity of the people, and that is why we will continue to stay in this region on our annual pilgrimage.
For more information, go to http://www.thunderontheprairie.com and see what has been kept a secret; you will be glad that you did.

The Sturgis/Saskatoon Pin Story

By Stix Douglas

A few years ago I took a road trip by myself up north. While there I happened to stop by a motorcycle event happening at a Harley Dealership. I couldn't help but notice the majority of those attending, both men and women were wearing vest. Granted they help keep your body warmer in the cooler weather and did provide some protection against the cold. But they were wearing them more like a fashion statement. Instead of plain denim or plain leather vest's. they were nearly filled with what I want to call purchased pins. The same cheap sometimes funny ones but foolish never the less that you could get form your local Five and Dime stores,

I am sure that imitation is the sincerest form of flattery but seeing it only made me think they were want to be's.  They seemed to be trying to imitate the wiser older more experienced bikers . Ones who's vest would be decorated with pins from the many events. Where  they had traveled or gone to over their many years of riding.  Having them all over the front of the vests as if to demonstrate or brag.


 It got me wondering if there really were any pins that you could actually earn , rather than just buy or purchase.. By coincidence, I began reading an article on my way home from a trip I had taken into Ontario, Canada it was mid July that year. What made the article interesting was I noticed the National Canadian HOG Rally had been scheduled on the ending weekend of  the Sturgis Motorcycle or Black Hills Motorcycle Rally and Races.

What raise my curiosity and then got me even more interested was in the article it stated that if you brought proof of attending the Sturgis Rally, they had a “special” pin for you when you arrived at the Canadian National Rally.



This was something that I was looking for, a real challenge.  It would be like reaching for a brass ring, a bit daring too perhaps. Since I would be doing this alone.  I'd be in a foreign country without knowing anyone along the way or there.
As I got myself ready to leave from Sturgis the “Wise Guys” that I had traveled up to Sturgis with were somewhat disheartened because of my earlier than normal departure.
I enjoy a little variety and different scenery when touring by motorcycle, Rather than take the straight shot to Saskatoon from Sturgis, SD  I had chosen a few roads that were even more desolate. When I arrived the next day, I had rode approximately 650 miles from Sturgis the day before. I entered the facilities of the Rally at 4:00pm and presented my proof, the coveted Sturgis Gas receipt.
The woman behind the desk made a phone call and informed me, Quote: “ I’m sorry but registration closed at 2:00pm”. There was nothing she could do.”

I was frustrated. Perhaps angered a little, feeling as if I had been sucker punched.  I had foolishly been chasing after a mirage. I was stunned, and needed to rest, relax, and think a moment before I went off half-cocked.
Looking around I began to wonder what to do next.  I realized my plans were based on what would be happening that Saturday in Saskatoon. Now it seemed as if everything had suddenly changed. To make matters worse I had no idea what to do next.

Needing to find a place for the night I pulled out my trusty Road Atlas. Then located a Provincial park not too far south of Saskatoon that had camping facility’s. After having a huge Chinese buffet supper I headed out and arrived at the park just before dark to set up my tent.

The next morning my 2001 Electra Glide Classic would NOT start. After using the park’s telephone for a considerable amount of time while I answered numerous questions over the phone I was informed there would be an additional charge that, I would have to settle with the driver to have the bike towed to the local dealership. The truck was also delayed an hour and a half longer than what I was told to be expected.

Once at the dealership I noticed that, not only was my seat’s backrest and my longhaired sheepskin was missing. These items where expensive and would not easily replaced.

As I sat down and pondered my thoughts as I waited it was becoming clearer to me that in the brief 24 hours or so since I had left the States and come into Saskatchewan, the following had happened:

(1) I had raced to get to the Canadian National HOG Rally, but still got there too late to receive the “special” pin that I had came for.

(2) My motorcycle breaks down and will not start the next morning.

(3) Accessory parts of my motorcycle end up missing in transit,

(4) I had no idea of the cost or the expense of the repairs as I wait.

(5) It was already late afternoon and I had not had so much as a cup of coffee or anything to eat that day and was feeling sick to my stomach.

As I sat outside feeling sorry for myself, I begin thinking that this was becoming a very disappointing excursion. I was trying to remain as calm as I could, but by now I was shaken and ready to lose faith in my decision in coming. I was beginning to worry that I had taken on too much without enough preparation for the economical devastation this was going to cause.

As I waited, I tried to remain upbeat as I spoke with many of the workers and customers that happened by. After all it was Sunday and because of the National HOG Rally the dealership was open when they normally would not have been.

It was about this time when A regular patron of the dealership pulled up on his Harley with a large Green and Yellow Saskatchewan flag on the back of his “dresser”. I approached the “Canuck” to ask him where he had gotten it having never seen one before.. He first started to tell me, but then he said: “You’re not from around here? Are you?”I shook my head no and then without hesitating, he took the flag off the bike and handed it to me. Saying;” Keep it, it’s yours. I can get another one you can’t.”

I was elated. From that point on it felt as if things were turning themselves around.
Pat the tow truck driver returned a little while later and surprised me by handed me my backrest and sheepskin. He had traveled back and found it and then had worked the paperwork so I did NOT have anything extra to pay on the tow bill.

Someone had overheard the mechanics talking, then brought back some encouraging news. It was not the bikes module or the “computer brain” that had went out on my motorcycle. This would have made it an even more expensive repair. Instead, it would be less costly. However, they were still weren't possitive what was wrong but they were working on it.

By this time, several of the dealerships crew had heard of my disappointment over the Sturgis to Saskatoon pin. As a nice jesture they went out of their way and got a group together as we all stood around.


I was presented with two distincive pins, one was of the Canadian flag and another of the Provincial flag of Saskatchewan. It was a wonderful gesture and I felt honored and uplifted as I told them, I had something the other people at the National Canadian Rally did not have. I had new friends.
``
They stayed later than their closing to make sure my bike was finished. It had been a cam sensor. The cost was minimal and I was back in the wind. I thanked them, paid the bill, placed the Saskatchewan flag on the bike, and I left heading for a Chinese Buffet.

When I returned home after traveling 6,000 miles through 12 states
and 4 Canadian provinces in the previous two weeks, I called the Canadian HOG to find out what had happened.

After talking to Mary Reddick, a HOG Member Services Coordinator who was gracious enough too not only answer all my questions but to put my mind at ease explaining what had happened. It was then I found out that there were two different Hog Tales magazines; A US and a Canadian version. She asked that I send her a fax of the gas receipt along with my address and telephone number. Which I took care of immediately.



I received my Sturgis to Saskatoon pin by mail a few weeks later. Although it has been a few years now But I keep it with those ones I was given as I remember the memories and value of that trip. But most of all I remember and value the friendship.

The Sturgis to Saskatoon Pin is more than just a trophy and therefore virtually priceless because it was earned, not purchased. It was more than just a learning experience, or an adventure, it was an experience with my Brothers in the Northern Winds.

It was a memory that I felt I needed to share.

I wish you all well in your travels….
.


Sincerely… STIX DOUGLAS

Pictures from the 14 States in 15 Days

WHO AM I ?

(By Stix Douglas)



As a tradional motorcyclist, I believe all of my life’s experiences have led me upto this point. But somewhere along the way the storys and the biking traditions that I learned and were taught to believe in have been cast to the side, misplaced, or overlooked as unimportant. There is no one carrying on this tradion for this next generation of riders. I am persueing to do that now

I am a long distance TOURING "BIKER" who has been blessed as one of the lucky few that has also had a long history of riding motorcycles, having done so nearly my whole life. The open road has been very good for me and has taken me to places I would have never have thought of going to and I am much richer because of it with memorys of travels from all over this continent.

I set a goal for myself years ago that I just completed before I retired which was, to have ridden in all of the lower forty-eight states. Besides that I have also traveled through five of Canada’s Provinces, and now have set another goal to complete the remaining eight Provinces within the next few years.


I have been participating in HOGs ABC's Of Touring for the past few years now and was one of the Top 12 for United States and Canada in 2006.
Having also received my 250,000 Mile Merit Award from HOG (Harley Owners Group)

So to say I ride a little, might be considered somewhat of an understatement.


Back when I was growing up the goal was to ride and live to become a “Wise Old Biker. I have just been blessd to have made choices that have allowed me to continue to experience riding throughout my entire life. Because of this I felt I needed to return a little of my fortune to others.

I have been a Certified Safety Instructor and done nearly a weeks worth of training before I worked as a Range Aid at Doc's Harley Davidson in Kirkwood. I then completed a 10 day MSF (Motorcycle Safety Foundation) training with the MMSP ( Missouri Motorcycle Safety Program) in Warrensburg, Missouri in May of 2008.
I took an additional four more days of training with "Harley Davidsons Riders Edge Program" At Prince George, Virginia in June of 2008. Since that time I have stopped teaching.

Even though I prefer and ride alone, the majority of the time, I am saddened to think that many of today’s younger riders will only participate in weekend or group rides. Although there is safety in numbers and everyone can enjoy riding in formation. I only do that with a very few of my riding buddies and it is usually on our longer road trips.

You don’t have to have a group or an organization to be able to enjoy the sunshine and the wind in your face. Hell it wasn’t that many years ago that Harley Davidson used the slogan that still rings true for me today: “The Eagle Soars Alone”.

I am always the one with the dirtiest bike, slopped up by the rain as well as other elements, because I took my chances. You’ll often see my windshield stained with bug juice left on it from the evenings ride the night before.

I believe it is wrong for anyone to apologize or make excuses for when their bike is dirty, just because it’s been ridden. What good is a clean motorcycle if you never go anywhere? You also have to remember that time spent cleaning also means less time spent riding.

I was never a week end warrior, I often rode my bike to work and those 250,000 were before I retired.
I ride because I have always enjoyed it. Not because I had to, or that I need to “prove” anything. It is just important to me, because I found riding an excellent stress reliever when my workday ended I would always look forward to the end of the day and the different variations and routes on the way as I would ride home.



When I first started out riding Harleys I was told: “If you really want to ride a lot you need to have a back up bike.” "In those days "You rIde one bike while you worked on the other."

But since that time and even with all the technical advances, I believe there is still no one bike that can do every kind of riding equally well.
Over the years, I have enjoyed owning a host of different motorcycles and I know it's not the number of bikes that you have that is important but rather the experiences and reasons for having them.

I currently own 4 Harley Davdsons if you count my 1976 XL Sportser that has remained a basket case since Oct of 1997. I had my 1976 FLH Bi Centennial restored and just purchased a 2006 Night Rod (Yes,a water cooled Harley ) And last but not least I have a 2001 Electra Glide Classic that I bought new in May of 2002 which currently has over 157,000 miles on it.






Unlike many riders today, I don’t see any advantages by wearing a Beanie for a helmet. it doesn’t makes you look cool, and why look foolish when you don’t have to? Rather than wear a beanie I wore a white DOT approved helmet loaded with freedom of choice stickers, but to each his own. I agree with those who think it should be those that ride that should decide; not some law made by a congressman who doesn’t. My role now is to lead by example, Safety first.

Having been able to continue to ride motorcycles for decades rather just recently buying into it, requires more than just luck at staying alive. To do so is by a number of pre-determined factors. One of the biggest reasons I am still around and able to ride is I don’t drink and ride. Period. And I don’t condone those that do.


It’s still my goal to become that ”Wise Old Biker” and not by dying as a result of stupidity brought on by drinking alcohol.

Sure I know I have offended all of you that choose to drink, but I had made my choice not to. The way I look at it is...He whom lives longest, rides the furthest and therefore wins. To me it can’t be any simpler than that. I can always find more important things to do then leave my bike parked out in front of a bar.

We should all believe in the simple philosophy that motorcycles are intended as well as are made for the purpose to be ridden.

I run loud pipes and yet I try to be considerate. I have them because I am heard and noticed where it counts, on the highway. Not at some stoplight trying to draw attention to myself or to be obnoxious in causing an unnecessary distraction.
Because of the volume my loud pipes have saved me on countless numbers of times from “cages” (automobiles) that would have run me over while merging into traffic who would otherwise not have even noticed me.

Another major difference between myself and other “Motorcycle enthusiasts” is that I’m more into the long haul rather then the quarter mile.

I find it aboslutely basphone and totally and utterably absurd to have a “Touring motorcycle” in the back of a truck or a trailer, unless it is being taken in for repairs. This seems to be an acceptable practice that many others seem to think is alright.
I am NOT ALONE even the guys I ride with find it offensive. Many bikers in other parts of the country don’t give this a second thought when considering going to motorcycle events. To those I got to ask, Why pretend to ride if you don’t?” Why have a Touring bike if you’re not going to use it for its purpose?

As you can see I am serious and passionate about riding motorcycles. I dare to travel on two wheels and by choosing to do this it has allowed me to go places and see some things at countless places that very few would ever have the opportunity to see, and I am richer for it.
Others can only dream of the beauty or the experences that await them. It is a choice that each of us make. I challenge each of you to make that choice.

I still collect my pins and patches at motorcycle events, especially those that I had to travel long distances to get to. However, My treasures aren’t those pins or patches, but rather the memories of those experiences.


As it was explained to me by one of my “true brothers in the wind”, it’s not the destination that’s important, but rather, it’s the journey.

We all need to come to the realization that it’s not so important where you have been, compared to the thoughts of where you are going.

Over time, we all become older and I would like to think more well seasoned with our riding experiences. But more importantly, I hope we all become a little wiser because we ride.
Be Safe
Who am I? I’m STIX Douglas and I ride.

The JOYBONE Band Myth or Legend?

JOYBONE was a phenomenon like no other. Ahead of their time these three musicians combined musical talents to form a trio, which has NOT been duplicated before or since. JOYBONE made history that many still talk and ask about even today.















Having pre arranged and previously recorded its music prior to playing it out live, the group, focused its attention on its own unique style and formed a new category called Blues Rock that was as different as any in the music world and yet it was as if it had been there all along. Each song was then meretriciously perfected and performed with precise delivery, which kept evolving because of their constant and unrelenting rehearsal schedule. Perfectionists to a fault each member also had multiple experiences in a studio-recording environment.














Quick wit and its combination of musical backgrounds in a number of various bands over the years this group was instantly well liked and became a huge crowd-pleasing hit as soon as they were playing out.
Having musicians coming from that level of professionalism is how the musical groups like the Eagles formed. Coming from a recording studio first was a rather different approach to live performing that was a real treat to the ears. Something that helped in getting the band JOYBONE its over all sound established so quickly.

Known for its combination of Blues Rock mixed with Party music, the bands natural vocal abilities became a staple of their overall sound.

Harmony’s and the increasing amounts of pre arranged musical repertoire. The group thrilled and fascinated its audiences with many fun filled and cleverly pre rehearsed songs and gave them a delivery of a much larger sounding group.
















Packed in some of the smallest clubs this group continued to pull a crowd wherever it went.Their inventory of musical selections grew and seemed to only add to their arsenal of expertise.

Its popularity continued long after the group stopped playing out live.
Its underground fan base was one of the first to use e mails in its advertising of where the band could be heard with an ongoing update of performances as well as Invitations and band schedules that were available to the crowds at each performance.

Its fan base still continues to this day. Although the group has worked on recording an original CD of its own material, Studio time and lack of availability have kept it from being finished.
The possibility of a new release is still in question.

Full Circle Continued

I Gasped for air as if it were my last breath?  Immediately my mind raced and I started to panic as I thought I was going to die. I fought for air for several minutes in what seemed like hours. I was in a panic. Stunned and going into shock I just had been power slammed by My '85 Harley Davidson motorcycle,

I opened My eyes and started to roll over but felt excruciating pain from where the motorcycles exhast had burned me accross my lower back.

The only photo I had was of the video when I brought it home 7/93

I had only had the Evolution engine motorcycle for a little over 6 weeks, having traded my first Harley a beautiful completely redone and upgraded 1976 Liberty for what was actually a rather ugly looking plain Jane , and what everyone else refered to as a Old mans bike.  I had considered the paint hideous. I described it to everyone  as Beige & Puke.
I had just returned from my second trip of Sturgis having ridden  the thousand miles there without stopping for what would be the first of many. But now I was on the steps of Deaths door,

How did I end up here?

I had been working the third shift at Chrysler on the rail docks, driving a 8000 lb. Fork truck unloading Rail Road "Box Cars" and virtually was skipping out a bit after lunch and several hours early for this nights joy ride home.

It was a warm night and I hadn't worn my leathers , I was still getting use to the bike and was doing some serious leaning on the twist and turns. The narrow paved county road was a bit rough in spots. I had been pushing higher speeds while learning  to get a better feeling of the way the bike handled.

While speeding  into a backwards S turn I met up with what I wanted to call a OJ Simpson Ford Bronco. A look alike which was straddling the center of the road. I quickly leaned it over onto its right side and then had to overly compensate to keep it on the road leaning back to its left side.
I can still remember those moments.  Pea gravel  scrapping the floor boards sparking. Before going air born.  Like a idiot not knowing any better I held on.

What happened next I still can't quite figure out. It was like a case of suspended animation. I would have had to have gone over the handle bars. I felt the helmet twisting and forced my head to turn before the bike Power slammed  me into the dirt. The exhaust burnt into my back  before lifting off.  I was unable to breathe as I turned and watch my motorcycle bouncing wildly before getting the front wheel and front forks hung up in a barbwire fence. Locked in with full throttle the bike continued to bounce its rear wheel up and down digging into the dirt a little deeper with each time the tire hit until finally coming to rest sitting up straight.  The bikes rear section of frame resting on the ground. and the bike now idling.

Nothing hits home as much as when you have a near death experience. or the opportunity of meeting your maker and knowing it.Being dazed and confused is not only a temporary mind set but can be more permanent as it carried over after the accident.

I kept trying to pull in air and was unable to walk.  I began to craw and dragged myself closer to the front steps of the house who's front yard I had torn up and landed in.

When I finally managed to catch My breath,  I begin to think " I can't call for an Ambulance" I can't tell anyone at work about this or the actual time it happened. If word got back to any of my supervisors I would be terminated.


I was fortunate to not have any visible broken bones but had a herniated disk in my lower back. There was also the issue of 2nd and 3rd degree burns on my back from the exhaust that kept reminding me from laying too comfortably on my back.


Once I had called my buddy Mike Bertolini. He had gone down and picked up the motorcycle with his enclosed trailer. He brought it home to me and unloaded it without charging me anything.


I was still hurting so bad I couldn’t even get up to go see it or much less to help him with being able to unload it.


For the next several weeks I was in limbo uncertain as to what to do. My mind flashed back to remembering Skip and how badly he had looked the day I went to see what would later become my first Harley. It seemed like so long ago they were different times. I was mirroring the fact that this was my accident


Over the course of the next several weeks, I was looking forward to being able to lie down to just relax and not move, but that wouldn’t be happening.


The Rail Dock Rats from work kept calling. They wanted me to come back immediately before there were any personnel changes could happen on the dock. They offered me the opportunity to just do the checking of visual paperwork of the inventory of the rail cars without having to get up and down or drive my fork-truck.


I was dumbfounded because I didn’t know if I would have been willing to have done the same for someone else. Looking back on it now I went back to work way too early. I was in no shape to be even have been walking around much less working. They kept me active but it was also the end of an era

I had to go through a lot of soul searching then. I had too many unanswered questions and doubts that took a lot of time and consideration to mull over and just sort through.

Why had this happened to me? What was I gonna do next? What does all of this mean? What should I be doing now? Where do I go from here? Why am I alive? Why didn’t I die? What’s my purpose? What have I not done? What do I need to do? How do I move on? When will I get over this? But the one that really stuck seemed to be Why am I alive?

Besides my injury’s mentally I had a chip on my shoulder. The more I thought about it the more research I done in my own mind.


When I finally felt up to it I called my mechanic buddy Butch. I was still unsure of myself and had to have an open discussion with him. At first there was a lot of uncertainly. But Butch said something rather profound to me and in doing that sparked other thoughts. In so many words he said something to the effect that it was your choice you have to make the decision yourself. Do you quit? Take the insurance check and walk away? No one would think any less of you if you did. This is where you get off the bus, and or checkout. Many would walk away and wouldn’t put themselves back in the situation of ever riding again. That choice is yours.


My mind flashed back to a guy whom I knew at work named Rusty. Having had a Harley at one time and having given it up.  Rusty spent time always thinking and reminiscing about those days and in some ways I thought of him as a “has been”. Which in my definition meant would not ride again or it would never be the same again. Rusty was someone who had gone on to and put away those freedoms and those feelings and had allowed them to become fond memories.


The risks maybe to great to continue. Something this devastating takes time to process. I can’t make that decision for you. No one would think any less. You have to make that choice on your own.

Father and Son

There is always something that we are most proud of. I actually am the most proud of My one and only son James.  I look at this photo now in retrospect.  Not a lot of "bikers" today would even know or recognize the motorcycle.
But it was significant because it was My first Harley that I had bought on Columbus Day back in 1991 I had purchased  the motorcycle wrecked .  James was so small then, but he would often come out to the little 10x12 Morgan shed where I would work on it to check on me and my progress.

I repaired it and rode it "by myself "  the first time to Sturgis, in South Dakota. While there I bought James the little leather riding jacket that he wears in the pic. Shortly after returning the Shovelhead motor snapped a camshaft bolt and  I had to have someone else do major engine work. It was down throughout the winter, and was rebuilt  with several upgrades making it even better than it was then when it was new.
This was one of the first pictures after I got it back. A pogo stick and a small solo seat was added along with a clear windshield in place of the full fairing that came later. The bike had also been repainted.

 I had padded a small beanie helmet with a neckerchief bandanna so James head would fit in it snug. We went for his first Harley ride around the driveway while he held on to the acorn decorated gas caps.  His arms were too short to comfortably reach the handlebars.

My son has since grown up and moved out on his own. This 76 Liberty edition was later traded in for another Harley.  I am still in possession of two other 76 Harleys.. A 76 XL Sportster and also a 1976 Bi Centennial FLH.

I was lucky enough to have become a motorcycle safety instructor. For a period of time also teaching  in the Riders Edge Program with Harley Davidson It was then and there that I also got to teach James how to ride.
 He doesn't own his own motorcycle, at least not yet, but accassionally we'll still go for a ride together him on his dad's O6 Night Rod . While I am on my O1 Electra-Glide Classic.
 It hard to remember when he was that small.  But this photo will alway remind me that it's a father and son moment,  one that I will always cherish.