Really a good story. Kevin is the rider coordinator for a Brit Bike Riders group called "Riders of the Lost Empire" He is also a serious Iron Butt participant who rides a 955i Tiger. Hope you enjoy this as much as I did.
Mark
The year was 1958, Christmas morning had finally arrived and I was 3. That’s the Christmas I got my first train. It consisted of four separate cars, each carved from a little block of wood, complete with working wooden wheels. The cars were painted in bold, bright colors that fascinated my child’s eye and nurtured an endless imagination. I pulled that train around in circles for years…
The year was 1961. Christmas morning had finally arrived and I was 6. That’s the Christmas I got my first electric train. It was unbelievable that I got a present like that. My Dad worked a half dozen Saturday mornings at the local garden centre just to pay for it. HO gauge, with a Santa Fe engine, three cars and a caboose. A tiny power pack sent this amazing machine around a 3 foot oval track at the flip of a switch. I ran that train around in circles until it just wouldn’t go anymore…
The year was 1964. Christmas would soon be upon us and I was 9. I was riding on a commuter train with my mother, off on a Christmas shopping trip into the big city. The conductor came along to check our tickets and made small talk. He could see I was bursting with enthusiasm about the train ride. The conductor quickly realized that this outing on the train was a special one for the little blond haired, blue-eyed youngster. He asked me if I would like to ride up front with the engineer. Incredibly, one thing led to another and before I knew it I was sitting in the engineer’s cab at the front of the train. It was some type of electric powered train. The engineer let me sit on his lap and ride with him for the duration of our trip, about 20 minutes or so. Those 20 minutes had a very significant impact on me, for to this day I am still fascinated with trains and the guys who run them.
The year was 2006. I had no thoughts of Christmas on my mind and I was 50. It was the month of May and I was riding my motorcycle around Texas. “ALL†the way around Texas! The MTF (Motorcycle Tourers Forum) organized this “RAT†ride in conjunction with the IBA (Iron Butt Association). For the less informed “RAT†means Ride Around Texas. A long story made short, you ride your motorcycle around the Lone Star State, hugging the Texas border all the way around until you get back to where you started from. Its 3,100 miles or so, to get all the way around Texas. You have three days, give or take, to do it. Why? Well… why ask why. Now, this little essay concerns not the “RAT†itself really, but TRAINS! Yes the glorious trains I found in Texas!! But before we explore the trains, we need to take a little tangent here for a paragraph or two. We must first understand “The Wave.â€Â
Much has been written about why one motorcyclist waves to another when they pass. And much has been written about certain “bikers†who don’t seem to wave back. We’re not going to get into that. What I’m after here is to try and convey to you the emotional “feeling†or here it is, the “Connection†made between two riders when they pass and BOTH wave. It’s an acknowledgement of a common spirit. It means we both face the cars, the trucks, the hot, the cold, the rain and so much more. We get flats and our machines break down…but the TRUE motorcyclists among us revel in all of this. So when we wave – and get that glorious wave back – we make a connection with another human spirit that is quite rare and quite invigorating.
I know some days you pass many bikes and just give a causal wave. But every so often that “connection†is made. About two years ago I was out for a Sunday morning ride. It was pouring rain and ALL my riding buddies stayed home. I was the lonely Wizard that day. I’m riding back home on a rural two lane country road and it’s raining pretty hard. But I’m well dressed and enjoying this solitary ride. I have NOT seen another bike the whole morning. Then…over a gentle rise in the road …way off in the distance…a single head light comes into view. It looks like a car at this distance…probably some cage with one lung out. But no…as we close the gap between us I see that it’s a trike! A bastardized machine. A real junkyard dog. The rider gets closer and I begin to make him out. Leather flying ace riding helmet, goggles, leather jacket, leather chaps and his big old arm is slowly rising up from the left handlebar as I approach. I unconsciously raise my left hand off the grip as well. We get closer and closer and our arms rise more and more. As I pass him I’m at FULL WAVE and he’s just a waving like a wild crazy man! We make a CONNECTION and our faces are plastered with smiles a mile wide. Happy to find another mad fool who wallows in the pleasure our machines are bringing to us…even in this rain.
I never saw that guy again. But I KNOW he is the kind of guy who would stop and help another rider no matter what the circumstance. I’ve decided that the guys and gals who ALWAYS check on a stopped motorcyclist are the same folks who ALWAYS wave. These are my kind of people…
So back to the train thing; Here it is folks…the punch line…“I†wave at trains! Yes “I†wave at Trains! YOU have absolutely GOT to try this. When it works out right – as it did for me over and over again in Texas – the feeling is AMAZING! In the very far North West corner of the great state of Texas you’ll find a little town named Texline. During the RAT ride we rode up to Texline for a gas receipt on 87 and then back again. There are many roads like this one…but 87 is the PERFECT example of a road that HUGS the train tracks. The trains run RIGHT beside you for miles and miles.
(So try to picture this scene with me) I’m the 50 year old kid on my MOTORCYLE riding along 87 searching for TRAINS. As I ride along I can see that glorious Triangle of lights coming down the tracks towards me…thundering along…thundering towards ME. I time the approach very carefully. As we get to be about a quarter mile apart I flick my high beams up and down two or three times. I have his attention now. I can feel it. In fact I think his train SLOWS just a hint. I rise up onto my foot-pegs….and I deliver the universal hand sign for “Please o please blow that train horn long and loud.†My hand is yanking on my imaginary train whistle in the sky and of course he gets it. That sound will stir a dead mans soul. The train whistle blows to acknowledge OUR CONNECTION! I’m waving like a mad fool now…and that horn just keeps blowing! I’m covered in goose bumps. God I love this motorcycle thing. In a flash we roar past each other...yet somehow we stay connected for a little while. Some guy on a motorcycle and some guy steering a train have “shared their uniqueness.†Not everyone gets to ride bikes like we do and not everyone gets to pilot a train.
It got EVEN better on the way back from Texline during that cold day in Texas. I was now heading back down 87 which runs RIGHT beside the Burlington Northern Line. About 20 miles outside of Dalhart I see a long freight train several miles ahead. Instinctively I twist the throttle open a little further and the chase is on. My right hand twists just a little more…and then some more…and I start catching up with the rear cars. I’m gaining on him, now halfway up…70 cars passed and I’m clicking em off fast now. I hope Smokey is getting a donut…almost there now… I’m three cars back and two and NOW I’M RIDING WITH A TRAIN! I’m almost OFF my bike with excitement – waving to get his attention. But there was no need…he KNEW I was closing on him and I believe he WAITED for me. Well I reach to the sky and yank my imaginary train horn as he does the same. The horn blasts are completely in sync with my hand signals. One…two…three four five…six…and………..SEVEN! Yes seven spine tingling blasts from “my†train and I was RIDING WITH IT. I paced that train for about 20 miles or so. What an amazing connection. Just a couple guys out ‘ridin.†Me on the bike and my buddy on his train. Totally matched in power and purpose. I KNEW this guy. No need to exchange any words. No need to exchange any glances…we just KNEW. When he slowed for an intersection and blew his horn…I did the same…My bike – his train – we became one…
Well once we hit Dalhart it was time to split up. I gave him a monster wave and a massive smile. My engineer did the same…not the horn blast this time, but instead a WAVE. A warm, wholesome, wonderfully friendly wave. And I knew that a little 3 year old, blond haired, blue-eyed youngster was waving right back!
