I like to go fast. No, that’s not right…I like to go quick. I don’t care at all about going 100 miles per hour, in fact, that scares me a bit, but I love the acceleration from 0 to 50. And there is nothing that accelerates quite like a motorcycle.

I first tasted the experience of a motorized bike as a young boy on what we used to call mini-bikes. Each summer you could usually find some crazy guys who would mount a lawnmower engine on a small bike frame, rig a throttle and (occasionally) brakes, and take off down the suburban streets. They were illegal vehicles and police would try to chase them down, but I rode them a few times and was equal parts thrilled and scared.

In college, I occasionally ‘borrowed’ a friend’s little Honda to tool around campus and environs. My brother Ray actually owned a Harley Davidson at that time. He never let me ride it; I don’t think I even asked him… but one day his windbreaker caught in the rear spokes and he went down; miraculously escaping injury. He repaired the bike and sold it shortly after. Smart boy.

But the lure of the open road still held an appeal for me…

Then in the 80s, as a District Sales manager for Glaxo, I hired an impressive guy named Matt B. A pharmacist by training, he was an accomplished triathlete and all around great guy. He was also married to one of the most knowledgeable (and attractive) neurologists in Indiana. And they had a lot of toys. Matt was a pilot who owned a plane and sometimes would fly (against policy) to meetings. They had great cars and a pair of Harley Davidsons. Interestingly, a few years ago I worked with another great Sales Representative named Daryl who is also a pilot and owned a plane. Although he did not fly to meetings (unless he wisely never told me…Daryl?), he also owned a motorcycle. As in Top Gun, it seems planes and motorcycles go together.

Anyway, I had resisted getting a motorcycle because I thought it would be an irresponsible thing for a father of 4 children to do. But then I met Matt and his wife, and it was apparent that motorcycles are now neurologist-approved! So Matt helped me find a nice used bike.

A Yamaha V-Star 650. (as in 650cc engine) It was small for a touring bike but great for a neophyte and nimble enough for neighborhood driving with just enough power in a pinch for highways. Zippy and whiney, it was a lot of fun. Matt and I rode all around Indiana, one time riding down to French Lick to work a medical convention. Matt and his wife rode larger Harleys and were more conservative riders.

They traveled the speed limit or under, turned gently and always wore a helmet. In Indiana there is no helmet law, although any right-thinking American would wear one. Problem is, there is a big difference in the experience of riding with or without a helmet. It’s like…well, never mind. The truth is, after an afternoon working in the yard, or playing softball, a quick jump on the bike with no helmet was exhilarating. But I also knew I was being an idiot sans-helmet so tried hard to keep the darn thing on. Soon I traded in the 650 for the slightly larger V-Star 950 which was more powerful and more comfortable on highways.

I took my kids on occasional rides but that all ended one fine sunny summer day. With my daughter Lisa on the back, I was traveling about 50 mph on a divided highway when the front end started shaking desperately. It took every ounce of my strength to keep the bike upright and moving straight ahead while coming to a stop. I had taken a nail in the front tire and had a flat. That was the last time I ever took anybody on a bike.

While having the tire replaced I was lured by the newest bike in the Yamaha V-Star line…the 1300. This fuel-injected touring bike was Harley-like without the exorbitant cost. It was a great touring bike but not as nimble as the smaller bikes. My favorite part of riding a bike, besides the acceleration, is turning. You don’t really steer a motorcycle; you lean in the direction of the turn and the bike follows your weight shift. And this is fun. My town has a lot of traffic circles (over 100!) and it is great fun to simply dip in the circle and shoot out the other side. I tend to turn tightly, too often scraping the bottom of the footpad (Circled in the picture) on the asphalt, an experience that will get your attention quickly. Anyway, this new bike was great for the highway, less great for nimble turning and steering. I didn’t love it, so I broke down and test drove a Harley Davidson V-Rod; a new model that was more sleek than most Harleys with as much power. Holy Crap. The first time I accelerated, the front wheel literally lifted off the road. It was fast! Too fast. After that ride, I slunk back to my lumbering touring bike and rode home feeling 80 years old.

WILD HOGS

At one point in my career I was assigned as the Regional Vice President (RVP) for the Rocky Mountain Region which included Colorado, Utah, Idaho and Wyoming. What an amazing part of the country! It was an interesting assignment because until December of 2008 Glaxo SmithKline (GSK) remained highly divisionalized, essentially ignoring the fact that Glaxo Wellcome (GW) had merged with SmithKline Beecham (SKB) a few years prior. In December of 2008 we went through a major downsizing and reorganization finally integrating many teams under one umbrella. I went from leading a single team focused on 4 neuroscience products in 16 states in the Central US to leading integrated Primary Care teams from both Glaxo and SmithKline in just 4 Rocky Mountain states. That brought about 14 products and distinct selling teams under unified management. My new Region had struggled in the past, and neither RVP from the major sales divisions in that Region was retained during the reorganization. It was culture shock across the company, but nowhere was it more dramatic than in the state of Utah. I came to learn that Utah is a remarkably beautiful state with strong prejudicial undercurrents. Of course, you know that Utah is the center of the Mormon religion and carries a heavy population of people who follow the Church of Latter Day Saints. It turned out that the SKB team was almost exclusively comprised of LDS members, while the GW team was almost exclusively non-LDS. Apparently, leaders on each team sought out ‘their own’ when hiring. And there was hidden but definite animosity between the two teams, which I do believe reflects the general state of affairs in Utah. I have many examples; and I made many personnel changes that continued even after I left. Combining multiple sales divisions under single management was a bold experiment but it was not a success and less than a year later, during the next reorganization in September of 2009, the divisions were separated again, and we again laid off people. Fortunately, I was retained and offered an RVP spot much closer to home in IL and WI, which eventually added IN and KY.

But I did meet many wonderful people in the Rocky Mountain Region. And the geography is absolutely stunning. Idaho is a mountainous gem, anchored by rustic Boise at the foot of the Rockies. I also had great trips to Sun Valley and the amazing Cour D’Alene…a hidden vacation spot for sure. Colorado is well known for its outdoor splendor. The city of Denver, sunniest place in the US, continues to grow in leaps and bounds and has swallowed up many surrounding towns like an expanding amoeba. Ski resorts are world class and you’ve never really skied until you ski out west. But for all the beauty of Colorado and Idaho, Utah outclasses them all. Unlike Colorado, you can be skiing on amazing mountains within a half hour of landing at a major airport. Salt Lake City is an intriguing city, well laid out, easy to navigate and full of interesting places. And the entire southern half of Utah is essentially National Park. In fact, the federal government owns 65% of the land in Utah, including 5 National Parks, 7 National Monuments, 2 National Recreation Areas and 6 National Forests. What makes it all the more amazing is the diversity of terrain; mountains, forests of all sorts, desert, canyons, buttes, mesas.

And I got to experience much of it on a 3-day motorcycle trip in the summer of 2009. One of the GSK managers arranges a “Wild Hog” trip out of Salt Lake City every other year. Each time they head in a different direction, and this summer the plan was to go south through several National Parks. The ride team included 3 GSK managers, 3 Representatives, 8 friends, and Me.

Interestingly, I was the only non-Mormon. It was a great bunch of guys, all very serious and careful about riding. More careful than me. I rented a brand new Harley Davidson

Touring Electra Glide Ultra Classic. A nice big bike and a smooth, powerful ride. It was so stable that I could easily take pictures with my camera while riding; an irresponsible thing to do, I’ll admit. But I was simply awestruck by the scenery. We quickly went from urban to remote; from valley to mountain, from warm to temperate to cold. Hardwoods gave way to spruce. The air

was crisp, clean and carried the scent of fragrant mountain flowers. The roads were impeccable, especially when we entered the National Forests. It is clear that the US government invests heavily in the maintenance of these parks.

We ended the first day in a maze of canyons, cliffs and terraces called Capital Reef National Park. Guess who was the only one to have a beer at dinner?

Setting out from our motel cut into a mountain, we jumped on Route 12 into the Grand Staircase of the Escalante National Monument. Driving through soaring gorges on a motorcycle is an exhilarating and humbling experience. By the way, Route 12 is designated as a “National Scenic Byway” and an “All American Road” by the Federal Highway Administration. Only a handful of highways carry this designation which attests that the beauty of these roads makes them “destinations unto themselves”. We stopped for gas in a station built into the side of a mountain and ran into another group of riders who told us about a side trail that would be worth our time. There are many short trails off Route 12 cut mostly by river

tributaries, previously used as wagon train trails. We decided to give it a go. Easily the most beautiful road I’ve ever traveled, it wound down through valleys cut by sheer cliffs on either side.

We learned later that it is called Burr Trail Road. After soaking in the trail, we headed back to Route 12 to Bryce Canyon National Park. Quite a unique place, it’s not really a canyon. It’s a high plateau containing miles of colorful eroded limestone “hoodoos”. While peering over the edge down into the surreal ‘canyon’ I hear: “Frank? Frank, is that you?!?” and turn to see the familiar face of a manager who had retired from GSK a few years back. He was there with his family touring the Parks. Talk about a small world.

Back on the road, we travelled through the Dixie National Forest where we reached over 10,000 feet in elevation. And this is where I, and two others, were separated from the rest of the group. I’m not exactly sure how it happened but at some point on these sparsely traveled roads we strung out the group over a half mile or so. Three of us stopped to take a swig of water and, no matter how fast we went, we could not catch up to anyone. Cell phones were useless, so I volunteered to ride ahead to try to catch them while the other two waited behind. As I mentioned, these are pristine roads and it’s easy to go fast on straightaways. I found myself going 75…80…85…90 with no problem at all. With some purpose, I hit 100. 100 mph on a motorcycle is an invigorating, scary, very stupid thing. It became clear that the other guys were not ahead of us, so I pulled over to wait. Eventually, the other 2 lost souls caught up and we chatted on the side of the road.

There I learned that one of the guys who was in his late 40s had been diagnosed with kidney cancer. He had been in remission until a few months ago when they found the cancer had metastasized. He was resolute and unemotional as he said that this was probably his last trip. There was nothing to say, but slowly he began to cry and the three of us hugged. It was an excruciating experience that reminded me once again of the fragility of life. Surrounded by this relentless beauty, tragedy inserts itself. And I had just tempted fate myself by driving irresponsibly. From then on, I drove more carefully and kept my helmet on.

Soon the rest of the group drove up. Seems they had turned off ahead of us into a side cut hidden by a high ridge for a scenic view and some water. They didn’t realize we were missing until we passed them.

Onward we went to the town of Cedar City for our second night. After a great big breakfast, we headed to Zion National Park, not far from the border of Arizona and the Grand Canyon. At this point, I was getting scenery overload. On the entire trip, everywhere I looked was a postcard. And Zion is insanely beautiful. It’s an easy park to access with plenty of fine trails and a mile-long scenic tunnel. Go. Just go.

The ride back was quicker as we took more highways, but we did go through a small town that the guys told me was well-known for open polygamy. OK.

We also stopped for lunch at this place where they seem disrespectful of the folks who make the pies.

It rained on the way back and I was surprised that, as long as you are well covered in rain gear, riding a motorcycle in the rain, even on the highway, is not as challenging as you might think.

Arriving back in Salt Lake City it was bittersweet saying goodbye to my new friends, especially one guy, but as I lay in my hotel bed that night I reflected on what was one of the most memorable weekends of my life. I thought about how I would recreate the experience with my own friends and family but that has never happened. Now that I am retired, though, I will plan a trip to southern Utah with my wife. I’m thinking we’ll just rent a nice convertible.

GEARING DOWN

In the mid-90s singer Alanis Morissette released a song called Isn’t it Ironic?  Problem is, nothing in the song speaks to irony. A few lyrics:

It’s like rain on your wedding day
It’s a free ride when you’ve already paid
It’s the good advice that you just didn’t take

Those things may be unfortunate coincidences or just plain old bad luck, but no real irony there. I will tell you what is truly ironic: Crashing your motorcycle on the way to selling it because you finally decided that it was too dangerous to ride. Put that in your damn song Alanis.

After seeing and hearing too many stories of motorcyclists who were hurt because of inattentive car drivers, I decided to hang up my wheels. I called the bike store and arranged for a consignment sale. I was fully aware that the ride to the store would be my last on a bike, so I took the long way and drove assertively, even for me. I accelerated quickly, took turns at high speeds and zipped through traffic. Unfortunately, it was Springtime and the roads were full of the sand and gravel that had been spread throughout the winter to melt snow and ice. The edges of the roads especially were covered in detritus. Recall that my town has lots of roundabouts and I was about to enter one of the tightest, which even causes problems with car drivers. Thinking I would still be able to zip through it, I entered with too much speed. I leaned left hard and immediately scraped my left footpad on the street…hard. I straightened up in reaction and darted toward the road fringe where a healthy layer of sand and dirt awaited. As soon as the bike hit the sand it flew out from under me, jumped the curb and ran down the embankment. I hit the street…hard. I was NOT wearing a helmet and should be happy that I came out of it with only a broken clavicle, a head contusion and various road rashes.

I was taken to the emergency room by ambulance and one of the nurses was strangely aggressive toward me. When I asked another nurse what the issue was, she told me that just a few hours ago another motorcycle rider, not wearing a helmet, was taken in DOA. And this nurse has a husband who rides so the issue is close to her heart, and she gets angry at people who don’t wear a helmet all the time. I don’t blame her a bit.

SO, the bike was totaled and I got full replacement value from the insurance company, definitely more than I would have gotten if I sold it. I do not recommend this as a liquidation technique. And, although I would have preferred that my riding career end on a higher note, I do have to say that I miss riding a motorcycle. I’ve tried to replace it with a few different convertibles, but nothing really compares. And nothing really compares to the danger either, so I guess I should be thankful for the time I had. Still, you never know. As Yogi Berra is purported to have said, “You should never make predictions, especially about the future”.

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