ride to iowa EFMC 50th. words and photos

One part of this life I’ve always had issues with is Time. The concept of Time and how it effects our lives, like when you’re working a shitty job and you can hear the clock tick second by second and hours turn more like days. But those same seconds hit warp speed when you are in the middle of something exciting. Like when you’re a young kid stomping through creeks with friends on warm summer evenings and you come home hours late and your parents freak out on you….and you claim you just lost track of time. The definition of TIME is: The indefinite continued progress of existence and events in the past, present, and future regarded as a whole. I’ve agreed with Cher and wanted to -turn back time-. But I never had any luck doing it. You have photographs and memories and you have the way you look back on life. You can look back on times of your life and learn how you want to make changes for the times to come. Next time. The last time. This one Time. Time and time again….and then there is this one, my least favorite beer but a belief I have about time is looking for a Simpler Time. This trip all started with a simple hand written invitation to a party. Not just any party, not just from anybody but an invitation from Tom Fugle to the El forastero Motorcycle Clubs 50th year anniversary party. The club Tom started 50 years ago. The club that is seriously iconic in the history of choppers. It was a great honor to receive the invite from Tom… and I couldn’t really see passing it up. Months earlier I had planned on maybe doing the round trip ride from Oakland to New York again, but when the invite hit me I saw no way of passing it up. It was Time for a trip. I’ve learned to love motorcycle travel. The packing of the tools, tent, a couple pieces of clothing maybe a camera, just the bare minimum that you can strap on your bike. Keep it simple, think what might go wrong, pray that it doesn’t and move on. Feeding off the anxiety before the trip and just appreciating feeling so much emotion and excitement and damn when you turn that first corner leaving your place…. It hit’s you. This is really happening! You’re doing it, your moving forward maybe moving out of your comfort zone. It’s not some easyrider fantasy, it’s the real world and time to battle those big rigs, pot holes, break downs, and put you and your bike to the test. This is where that word TIME comes to me so heavy because I’m living so in the moment on one of these trips. When your sitting in bar at the end of the day and think about the beginning of the day when your woke up in your smelly tent…. It feels like days ago. But not in that terrible way like when time drags… in the most beautiful way, like when you know you really lived every minute of that day. The most beautiful moments for me are when you finally get off the bike, camp fire is lit, back is to the ground, face is to the stars and you reflect. It feels so pure, and the bullshit of life is behind you. It’s personally been a rough year for me, and that day to day shit you trip on gets overshadowed by real living. You got out of the bubble and into the world. You are a microscopic blip on the map and this land is huge. Plenty of time to think starring at the road all day. What’s important? friendship, love, dreams, family, and self? And the most constant thought –keep this bike running-. I’ve seen it flop on people, too wrapped up with the idea of it, like some biker movie, but like I said when you turn that first corner, it hits you and I think you know after the first day if it’s for you or not. My buddy Dyaln, definitely got it. Always down to start the new day, lend a hand, respect the machines and move forward. You see someone’s true colors on the road, and his shined through and when we met with Jeremiah for 800 miles it got even better. I mean who wouldn’t want to have someone to wipe boogers on, call chubby, and just make fun of day in and day out. All of us riding knuckleheads too. 1938,1940 and a 1947. The party was amazing and Tom was the best host ever, but that memory can’t be put into words and is probably for the best. Thank you Tom. 4000 miles later…and that is no exaggeration. I’m home. With that weird almost blues feeling. What the fuck do I do now? Happy to be home but missing that constant pull from the road. Oh yeah, while in Yellowstone a buffalo ran in front of me and I skidded at least 60ft… a lowside skid that came about as close as it gets to turning into a highside, somehow flying off the road avoiding the buffalo and a serious amount of pain. Dlyan and I parted ways in Idaho and he headed to Portland and I headed to Oakland. That feeling was so strange. I had 666 miles to go, alone, half of it through the desert. Serious time inside the mind… dealing with my friend, Time. Thinking about one of the best times of my life. Simply an amazing Time. Thanks… Max Schaaf Sept. 2012