If you followed me at all over the past few years, you know how much I love to ride motorcycles. It's not a biker thing; these days I prefer to ride alone anyway. And it's not a "hey, look at me!" thing either, though I've caught some flak for being a showoff. I can't help it that the Harley is loud. I just enjoy the hell out of it.

​

I also love to play bass. Both activities--playing bass and riding motorcycles--are things I try to do every chance I get. So it only makes logistical sense to buy a bigger bike and slap a trailer on the back so I can throw all the bass gear in there and ride the frigging thing to the gig. I'm even more fortunate to have two bigger bikes, which is great because you can ride one of 'em while the other one is busted. Which is a thing that definitely happens.

​

Today was a picture-perfect riding day; right down the middle. Sure, 90 degrees sucks while you're standing there, but on the expressway at 80 miles an hour, it's a lot better.

​

Until you hit traffic.

​

Now your left hand is cramping up from repeatedly pulling the clutch in, and let's do the math: bigger bike = heavier clutch (most of the time). If your bike is air-cooled like a Harley is, you're considering maybe doing a little lane-splitting, but you don't dare because you have a 400-pound trailer attached. The bike is hot, and you're hot, and you might start to question whether or not this was a good idea in the first place.

​

But riding home after the gig? That's bordering on holy.

​

The Blooze Brothers is one of the finest group of musicians with whom I have ever had the pleasure to work. Moreover (with maybe one small exception but who's really paying attention) they're wonderful people to be around, to hang out with. They're supportive, generous people and I have long since come to see them as family. I particularly love the gigs that end with seven or eight of us hanging out backstage, or in the frigging parking lot, listening to music, post-gaming, and finishing what's left in the cooler. But eventually the cooler is empty and it's time to go home. And when I get to ride to a gig, the ride home is the perfect ending to a really fun, fulfilling time.

​

If you're considering buying a motorcycle so you can ride to YOUR next gig, I recommend it wholeheartedly. But do yourself a favor and get one with a stereo, preferably something with an AUX jack so you can play music of your choice. I recommend Handel's Watermusic, but you do you. Choose your ride-home music wisely. It shouldn't be the focus but merely add to the experience, so make it something with which you are already familiar that you know is going to take you into a comfy place, head-wise.

​

And, if you can, take the back roads. Get a little moonlight coming down through the trees on the situation. Pay attention to the way the headlight illuminates not just the road in front of you, but the trees above and to the sides. The trailer lights leave a nice mystical crimson glow behind you. Enjoy the temperature changes as you dive into the woods and then come back out again. Take your time. You don't have to get it in the topmost gear right away. You're not in a hurry. Let that engine hover somewhere between 3,000 and 4,000 RPM. Let it sing. You won't hurt it; in fact, in a way you're making your own music, so leave it in third gear for a while. Stomp on it and wail for a bit. Trust me. You've got a trailer attached, though, so take it easy in the corners. Do what I do and don't think of it as riding; think of it as dancing and do what you must to keep it smooth. It pays dividends.

​

Riding a motorcycle certainly isn't for everyone. Playing bass is for even fewer. But I certainly hope that you, O Honest Reader, can find something that gives you as much simple and wholesome enjoyment as both of those things provide for me. And if you can find a way to combine the two, then maybe you might get a bit of an idea of how grateful a guy like me can be, for even the simplest things.