This is an edited version of column I wrote for the June edition of Northern Rockies Rider. It isn't out yet, on the press Thursday. It advocates riding with your kids.
Headline: Let's do it before the nannies say we can't
As avid motorcycle riders, the last thing we want or need are the social nannies further intruding in our lives.
That's one of the nice things about living in Montana: most of us still cleave to the old-west notion that folks should mind their own business and, in return, I'll keep my nose out of theirs.
We gained tens of thousands of new residents from 1995 to 2008, most of them fleeing from the urban centers seeking "quality of life" and some measure of increased freedom.
Curiously, many of the newcomers then were flabbergasted to find Montana was not like LA and set about to change things, to "civilize" us, to make us conform to their notion of what is right and proper.
More regulation and restricted freedoms seemed to be their quest.
They saw no problem with more environmental laws shutting down logging and mining, more laws restricting development (which their moving here caused), more laws regulating how we engaged in transporting ourselves and families from here to there, more driving restrictions on youth, mandatory seatbelt use and on and on.
These "omnipotent moral busybodies," as author C.S. Lewis referred to them, tend to despise motorcycles. I think they resent the personal freedom we riders find, and I think they are disturbed that anyone is willing to take risks in the pursuit of fun and pleasure, since they deny themselves any such risk or enjoyment out of meekness and fear.
So far the safety and health zealots mostly have bigger fish to fry than to focus on motorcycles. My fear is they will win their battles ¬– tobacco, alcohol, transfats, carbon dioxide, firearms and much more – then will eventually get around to laying their crosshairs on us.
Surely they will wage national campaigns (they are doing so in some localities) for horsepower limits, restrictions on aftermarket accessories and customization, mandatory helmets, restrictions on where bikes can be ridden ¬– off pavement and on. They are comfortable regulating away any activity of which they disapprove.
I was thinking about all this while reminiscing about how much more freedom we enjoyed as youths growing up, for me from the late 1950s to the early 1970s.
And I was thinking about the freedom we had to make decisions regarding the rearing of our own children. (I understand spanking – open palm on fleshy butt – is now considered criminal child abuse. I will admit it here: by that definition, my child was abused.)
Those who've campaigned to make honest spanking a criminal offense would be appalled to know that when my son was two or three, I used to put him on my motorcycle and take him for a ride. Such behavior today, while not "abuse," would certainly constitute criminal neglect or negligence in the eyes of the all the Mary Poppins regulators.
See, I had an old SL 350 Honda at the time and we lived in a rural subdivision with nicely groomed gravel roads that looped about and around a small lake. I'd put Scott on the seat in front of me and he'd hang onto the cross-brace of the handlebars. I'd then wrap a tarp strap around his belly and hook it into my belt loops.
Away we'd go, cruising along at five, 10 ... maybe even 15(!) miles per hour, putting along the gravel with its almost non-existent traffic. Heck, once in awhile for real thrills, we'd motor in first gear around the grass and trees of my five acres. Appalling indeed!
What would happen today if I were to take my then-eight-year-old son for a ride on the Interstate highway? That's what I did back in 1993. And, yes, he rode pillion, no tarp strap. We went 65 miles.
He didn't necessarily enjoy leaning it over in the turns, but a corndog at a C-store mid-way brought his attitude around quickly.
He rode behind me over the Beartooth Highway in about 1995 when he was 10. My brother and brother-in-law had their boys along, too.
Most of my friends who ride, and who have children, took their kids for rides when the kids were young. Most of those kids developed a love of the sport and ride themselves today. It's how we will perpetuate this thing.
To introduce your child to this sport we love – or to not introduce them to it – is a weighty decision and one of the most difficult I made as a parent. It can be gut wrenching to watch your 16-year-old negotiate technical turns on a steep mountain pass, either in front of you or in your mirrors. You'll know the most grave parental fears: "What have I done? What will I do if there's an accident? How could I live if..."
Powerful emotions...
Maybe even more powerful is the joy, the pride and the admiration, you feel when you watch that youth on a 100 horsepower sport bike handily strafing the turns on a racetrack.
I'm a hunter and hunting is one of those sports (or subsistence activities for some) that is under attack by those who believe they are superior to such "barbarism." Hunting groups have long understood that the only way to protect this ancient and pleasurable (and often gastronomically rewarding) activity is to make sure it is a true legacy, handed down through generations, surrounded by lore and respectful practices.
Hunters understand the sport's future is in the hands of the following generations, the youth. They have instituted many programs that endeavor to aid and encourage youth in becoming involved in the sport, learning to practice proper principles well, learning to love it, respect it and fight to protect it and its future.
As motorcyclists, let's take a page from the hunting enthusiast book. Let's endeavor to involve youth in riding, to teach them the principles, to respect it, fight for it.
It begins with taking your kid for a ride.
Do it before someone tells you that you can't.
