When I got my first Harley Brad and I would ride together and I have to say, it was good times. Lots of shits and giggles to be had by all. Well went through a bunch of shit together. He would come by my house in the middle of the night and I would get up get on my bike and we would head out for a ride. There was this one incidence at his house that involved lots of cops and drug sniffing dogs and automatic weapons pointed at us. Ahhhhhh good times.

I had a battery malfunction on my 1981 Wide Glide and got acid all over the rear of the frame and rear fender. Well at that time I was unemployed so at his house I tore the bike down to redo it, repaint the frame and fenders and tank. Well shortly after that life happened and I ended up working 2 jobs and never ever got back to that 81 wide glide. Fast forward to December of 2002 and I decided that I just could take it anymore, with very little free time on my hands and not having the place or the will to really fool with putting the 81 wide glide back together I went and bought a 2002 Springer softail. I love that bike. A couple of days after picking it up I went to Brads to show it to him and as luck would have it he was just getting ready to head out on his bike to get some lunch so I went along. Now Brad’s bike this time was a fat boy of which year I do not remember but it had the LOUDEST fucking motor I had ever heard on a street bike ever. He was running a 120 inch Merch motor. We headed out up LA 1 to a local choke and puke place and as I was riding on the side of him, I felt something I hadn’t felt in years. A sense of belonging. Like this is right where I belong, riding down the highway at 80 mph along side this guy. I once again felt part of a brotherhood. I don’t think I ever told Brad that. That was an important feeling to me. We had a good lunch together and chatted a bit and both of us headed home. It was awhile again before I would see Brad again and this time it would be in the hospital.

He was coming home on a Good Friday night and lost his bike in a curve on interstate 10 through Baton Rouge. He went down on his left side landing on his left elbow basically grinding it off. The doctors tried for many weeks to save his arm but they ended up taking it off just above the elbow. From as near as what he can figure out, his rear tire was flat or going flat when he went into the curve, he felt a bobble on the front end and tried to correct it when the back end became all squirrelly on him and he went down. He had always been a fighter and still is. He no longer rides even though he still has the bike he wrecked just as it was when the wrecker picked it up. It still has that bad assed 120 inch Merch motor in the frame. Looking at the bike from one side you wouldn’t realize it was wrecked at all and on the left side that went down, it doesn’t have much damage there. I asked him if he thought he would ever ride again and he said he didn’t think so. He felt he didn’t have that many limbs left and wanted to keep the ones he has. He now has a really nice motor home and takes it out when he feels up to it. He told me that his motorcycle was his ticket to adventure, now his motor home is. I have sat with him and talked with him and I think he is doing really well. He handles it  better than I would be if it was me and I respect him greatly for it. Brad was never one to let difficulties get him down; he picked up and moved on. He still is one of the smartest guys I know and one of my best friends. I ride when I can (not as often as I like) and he is always on the side of me in spirit. It is because of Brad my opinion of my motorcycle and what I want it to be is. He says that perhaps one day he will repair his bike and put it on display in his living room like a piece of art. Does he miss riding? I haven’t asked him but I think that he probably does and knowing Brad, If he feels that one day he would be comfortable riding again, I’m sure nothing would stop him from swing his leg over the seat and heading down the highway again, but if he doesn’t well, he had a lot of great memories.

I want to tip my hat and raise my beer mug and salute Brad for being a friend and a brother, here’s to you old friend, Live Free, Ride Hard.