Rick Long's Stories
August
272004
272004
The Best of Times or the Worst of Times
By Rick Long
The Las Vegas Bikefest is a run held in September in the area of Las Vegas known as the Freemont Street
Experience. Now in it’s third year, it is best described as four days of poker runs, custom bike shows,
outdoor classic rock concerts, and every imaginable vendor selling every imaginable motorcycle-related item.
My kind of fun. My whole family’s kind of fun.
This year’s trip became especially important because my nephew, who is leaving for the Army in
November, decided he would ride a bike instead of riding in the SUV with his mom. That’s a big step for
him, as the Army will also surely be. Unfortunately, his parents had already sold his learner bike and he didnâ
€™t have a mount. “That’s OK.â€� I told him. “You can ride one of your Aunt’s bike’s.â
€�
“Not ‘Fire ‘N Ice’?� he asked. “Not the ‘Roses’ bike!� he declared.
“Yep. We’re putting you on the Roses bike.� “Fire ‘N Ice� is the name of my wife’s
Christmas present in 2001: a Honda 650 Nighthawk with custom painted roses on the tank and vine-work
down the body to the tail where more roses and the words “Rick Loves Theresa� reside. Robert
(Joshua’s father) and I have each had to ride this bike at one time or another when our usual steed was
down for repair. It’s kind of like that song by Johnny Cash called “A Boy Named Sue.� For a man,
or a boy trying to become a man, you have to have some gravel in your gut and spit in your eye to ride Fire â
€˜N Ice. Josh was determined be on two wheels for the run and agreed to ride the bike, roses and all.
I own several brands of motorcycles so even those that know me won’t be able to tell which bike I’m
going talking about now. This is a good thing because any brand can have problems and I don’t want to
disrespect any moniker. Let’s just say that I had been doing a lot of pre-ride work on a particular bike in
anticipation of a good time in Las Vegas. With everything packed and ready to go, Robert and I made an
evening ride of about 90 miles round trip to visit his mother the night before the run.
On the way home that night, we’re cruising…OK, we’re flying on the 10West when I begin to feel an
extreme vibration coming from the front end of my bike. I drop out of warp speed and make my way over to
the side of the road. No apparent problem with the front tire or forks can be found but further investigation
reveals a flat rear tire. Pancake flat. The full moon and a flashlight I carry for just such nocturnal repairs gives us
enough light to plug the tire and get back on the road.
The next morning, we start out early for the run to Vegas. We stop by my wife’s work to say “See yaâ
€� because responsibilities are keeping her at home this year. Actually, she is glad we are going because this
means she can have the house to herself to do some of her work from the comfort of her own, quiet domicile
during the evening hours.
We are stopped at a light just around the corner from her office when we hear, “POW, ssssshhhhhhh,�
which is the sound of last night’s plug blowing out of the rear tire and all the air rushing out. Flat #2 in 12
hours. A second plug and a trip to the shop for a new tire delay our departure but don’t dampen our spirits.
Years ago when I was growing up on a farm in the rural South, my mother would say that a trip to town wasnâ
€™t complete unless you had a “nearly wreck.â€� During the trip over to Nevada we experience a major
nearly wreck. Robert, Joshua, and I come up behind a group of about ten riders on custom choppers. We fall
in behind the pack a ride about a dozen miles before passing a rest area. Just after the off ramp, the leader of
the chopper crew comes to a sudden stop and motions toward the rest area as if to check to see if anyone
needs to stop there. Almost all the bikes come within inches of wrecking together. Robert is standing on the
brakes of his new Electra Glide. Joshua locks up Fire ‘N Ice and skids safely past the bike directly in front
of him. I am in the sweeper position and back far enough that I wheel around to the left and bypass the whole
crew, save for Robert and Joshua who have my same idea and are now leaving the chopper crew in the dust to
ponder their mistake.
Saturday’s poker run goes well. I don’t win but have a great ride out to Red Rock Canyon and
beyond. The concert for the evening is Steppenwolf. Robert and I are hot to go but everyone else has other
plans. We head down for the bikes after a late dinner. It’s just about the time the band should be starting
to play when I fire up my ride and notice, “Humm. It’s awfully dark in front of this bike.�
Robert pulls up beside me in the parking lot and says, “What’s wrong with your light?� Now this is
the part when Joshua gets to laugh a lot. There’s no time to troubleshoot this light and still make any of the
concert. Worse yet, we’re not even sure Josh is still at the hotel and he might have the keys to Fire ‘N
Ice in his pocket. A frantic cell phone call upstairs finds him gone but the keys are on the bedside table. Whew!
His mom brings them down to the bikes and off we go.
What happens when you loan a vehicle to a teenager? You get it back with… no gas. That’s right. Fire â
€˜N Ice is bone dry. There is just enough gas in the reserve tank to make a quick stop at the nearest gas
station. We finally make our way to the concert an hour late but just in time to hear all the hits. We were born
to be wild on a magic carpet ride while cursing the pusher. Steppenwolf fans will know what that means. The
rest of you need not worry about it. Just a bunch of good ole’ boys having a good ole’ time. And I
don’t even drink!
0700 Sunday morning finds us mounting the bikes once again. This time for a charity ride down The Strip for
the Muscular Dystrophy Foundation. My bike won’t start. Robert and Josh push start me in the hotel
parking structure. Over at the Mandalay Bay hotel, meet up point of the ride, Robert and I hot-wire the
headlight while the mayor welcomes the riders and a priest blesses the bikes. Robert said we should have
parked closer to the front to get a stronger vibe off that blessing for my bike.
We get the light to shine on low beam just as the pack is ready to pull out. In the process, we somehow disable
the left turn signal. That’s OK though. I can signal manually and avoid any tickets. At least I’m riding
legal.
We head for home Monday morning. Josh announced just after arriving in Vegas that he didn’t want to
ride back on Sunday because he didn’t feel competent enough to handle the heavy weekend traffic coming
back into California. Smart kid. We arrive home safe and sound with no further mechanical incidents. My wife
asks, “Did you have a good time?�
Only one reply comes to mind. “Yep. The best.�
By Rick Long
The Las Vegas Bikefest is a run held in September in the area of Las Vegas known as the Freemont Street
Experience. Now in it’s third year, it is best described as four days of poker runs, custom bike shows,
outdoor classic rock concerts, and every imaginable vendor selling every imaginable motorcycle-related item.
My kind of fun. My whole family’s kind of fun.
This year’s trip became especially important because my nephew, who is leaving for the Army in
November, decided he would ride a bike instead of riding in the SUV with his mom. That’s a big step for
him, as the Army will also surely be. Unfortunately, his parents had already sold his learner bike and he didnâ
€™t have a mount. “That’s OK.â€� I told him. “You can ride one of your Aunt’s bike’s.â
€�
“Not ‘Fire ‘N Ice’?� he asked. “Not the ‘Roses’ bike!� he declared.
“Yep. We’re putting you on the Roses bike.� “Fire ‘N Ice� is the name of my wife’s
Christmas present in 2001: a Honda 650 Nighthawk with custom painted roses on the tank and vine-work
down the body to the tail where more roses and the words “Rick Loves Theresa� reside. Robert
(Joshua’s father) and I have each had to ride this bike at one time or another when our usual steed was
down for repair. It’s kind of like that song by Johnny Cash called “A Boy Named Sue.� For a man,
or a boy trying to become a man, you have to have some gravel in your gut and spit in your eye to ride Fire â
€˜N Ice. Josh was determined be on two wheels for the run and agreed to ride the bike, roses and all.
I own several brands of motorcycles so even those that know me won’t be able to tell which bike I’m
going talking about now. This is a good thing because any brand can have problems and I don’t want to
disrespect any moniker. Let’s just say that I had been doing a lot of pre-ride work on a particular bike in
anticipation of a good time in Las Vegas. With everything packed and ready to go, Robert and I made an
evening ride of about 90 miles round trip to visit his mother the night before the run.
On the way home that night, we’re cruising…OK, we’re flying on the 10West when I begin to feel an
extreme vibration coming from the front end of my bike. I drop out of warp speed and make my way over to
the side of the road. No apparent problem with the front tire or forks can be found but further investigation
reveals a flat rear tire. Pancake flat. The full moon and a flashlight I carry for just such nocturnal repairs gives us
enough light to plug the tire and get back on the road.
The next morning, we start out early for the run to Vegas. We stop by my wife’s work to say “See yaâ
€� because responsibilities are keeping her at home this year. Actually, she is glad we are going because this
means she can have the house to herself to do some of her work from the comfort of her own, quiet domicile
during the evening hours.
We are stopped at a light just around the corner from her office when we hear, “POW, ssssshhhhhhh,�
which is the sound of last night’s plug blowing out of the rear tire and all the air rushing out. Flat #2 in 12
hours. A second plug and a trip to the shop for a new tire delay our departure but don’t dampen our spirits.
Years ago when I was growing up on a farm in the rural South, my mother would say that a trip to town wasnâ
€™t complete unless you had a “nearly wreck.â€� During the trip over to Nevada we experience a major
nearly wreck. Robert, Joshua, and I come up behind a group of about ten riders on custom choppers. We fall
in behind the pack a ride about a dozen miles before passing a rest area. Just after the off ramp, the leader of
the chopper crew comes to a sudden stop and motions toward the rest area as if to check to see if anyone
needs to stop there. Almost all the bikes come within inches of wrecking together. Robert is standing on the
brakes of his new Electra Glide. Joshua locks up Fire ‘N Ice and skids safely past the bike directly in front
of him. I am in the sweeper position and back far enough that I wheel around to the left and bypass the whole
crew, save for Robert and Joshua who have my same idea and are now leaving the chopper crew in the dust to
ponder their mistake.
Saturday’s poker run goes well. I don’t win but have a great ride out to Red Rock Canyon and
beyond. The concert for the evening is Steppenwolf. Robert and I are hot to go but everyone else has other
plans. We head down for the bikes after a late dinner. It’s just about the time the band should be starting
to play when I fire up my ride and notice, “Humm. It’s awfully dark in front of this bike.�
Robert pulls up beside me in the parking lot and says, “What’s wrong with your light?� Now this is
the part when Joshua gets to laugh a lot. There’s no time to troubleshoot this light and still make any of the
concert. Worse yet, we’re not even sure Josh is still at the hotel and he might have the keys to Fire ‘N
Ice in his pocket. A frantic cell phone call upstairs finds him gone but the keys are on the bedside table. Whew!
His mom brings them down to the bikes and off we go.
What happens when you loan a vehicle to a teenager? You get it back with… no gas. That’s right. Fire â
€˜N Ice is bone dry. There is just enough gas in the reserve tank to make a quick stop at the nearest gas
station. We finally make our way to the concert an hour late but just in time to hear all the hits. We were born
to be wild on a magic carpet ride while cursing the pusher. Steppenwolf fans will know what that means. The
rest of you need not worry about it. Just a bunch of good ole’ boys having a good ole’ time. And I
don’t even drink!
0700 Sunday morning finds us mounting the bikes once again. This time for a charity ride down The Strip for
the Muscular Dystrophy Foundation. My bike won’t start. Robert and Josh push start me in the hotel
parking structure. Over at the Mandalay Bay hotel, meet up point of the ride, Robert and I hot-wire the
headlight while the mayor welcomes the riders and a priest blesses the bikes. Robert said we should have
parked closer to the front to get a stronger vibe off that blessing for my bike.
We get the light to shine on low beam just as the pack is ready to pull out. In the process, we somehow disable
the left turn signal. That’s OK though. I can signal manually and avoid any tickets. At least I’m riding
legal.
We head for home Monday morning. Josh announced just after arriving in Vegas that he didn’t want to
ride back on Sunday because he didn’t feel competent enough to handle the heavy weekend traffic coming
back into California. Smart kid. We arrive home safe and sound with no further mechanical incidents. My wife
asks, “Did you have a good time?�
Only one reply comes to mind. “Yep. The best.�
