Bob Seger, The Silver Bullet Band & The Magical Mystery Way Back Machine

On 28 May I went to see Bob Seger and The Silver Bullet Band at Van Andel Arena in Grand Rapids with my son.  This was the last performance of his 2011 tour, and it was a miracle that I was able to get tickets at all.  The seats were 10 rows from the stage which gave us a great vantage point to watch the concert.

The lights were up after the warm up band;  Bob Seger & The Silver Bullet Band would be on in a few moments.  I looked around at the crowd.  A majority were 50 or older, the men were mostly gray, the women dyed.  The lights went down as the band and Seger came out,  they too were gray haired and older.  For a moment I was wondering what this was going to be like,  then he launched into Roll Me, Away.

The voice and music were the same that I remembered from the 70s.  Years had Not diminished voice or the ferocity of the music.   The crowd rose in unison, and within 30 seconds we were transported decades back in time;  dancing and singing along. 

For the next hour,  I was totally enthralled by the music and the emotion that was pouring out of the crowd.  Every song he played was familiar to me and every song had a vivid memory attached to it.  Through my mind I scrolled through old girlfriends, times spent having fun with friends, late-night rides, and moon lit nights on beaches.  All of it was so long ago but the music brought them back to life as the images danced through my mind while my ears were treated to the music. 

The audience formed a single unit and our fists rose to the sky in victory at the end of every song, mimicking what Bob Seger was doing himself.  The cheers and applause lasted almost as long as the songs themselves.  I would look around, when the lights were bright enough, and I studied the expressions on every face.  All of us were sharing a moment.  The smiles, the looks of longing in the eyes, and at times tears were all being displayed in the open as each of us knew we were sharing emotions that each one of us was feeling.  Seger was encouraging us to sing along and appeared to be having a grand time as well.

There was a short break of about 10 minutes when we all collectively caught our breath.  I had heard rumor that Seger himself was catching his breath with an oxygen tank due to years of smoking.  None of that seemed to matter to us or him, when he was on stage his face showed that he was fully alive and enjoying every minute that he shared with us.

When he came out for the next hour, it was as if the entire band had been magically recharged.  The first hour and the second matched in both intensity and vibrance.  We rocked out.  I noticed a woman who was standing a few rows in front of me.  Her hips were gyrating in time with the music in her arms were reaching up towards the sky.  She was totally in her own world and from what I could see it was a good place to be.

I saw couples dancing with bodies pressed together during the slow songs.  Perhaps they were reliving a bit of romance from the past or maybe the music was creating their first romance that night.  I had no way of knowing.  It really didn't matter, the effect either way was the same.  You knew they were enjoying the music and that it had meaning.

It had been a long time since I've been to a real rock concert.  I can't remember one ever being like this where the audience and the artist connected so fully and where both seem to be having such a good time together.  More often than not in the past the artist would seem almost aloof or disconnected from the crowd.  Seger and his band were not, they were reaching out to become one with us and to let us know how much they were enjoying performing.

Bob Seger sang the road songs, love songs, and the songs of trials and tribulations.  His voice never failed nor did it ever waiver.  He was performing a concert today with the same energy he had performed concerts for the last 30 years.   

When the second hour was over and the band left the stage, the crowd clamored, and screamed and yelled in till they came back out.  The band returned and  performed three more songs, then exited the stage as it went dark.  Again, the crowd went wild.  Bob Seger brought his band back out for another encore.  It was at this point that he played one of my favorite songs: Night Moves.

The song itself had particular meaning for me as it came along during a period of angst when I was in high school.  Even though my experiences at that point were limited to heavy petting, I could identify with the lines “I used her and she used me but neither one cared.  We were getting our share”.  To me that personified dating in high school where we were all just learning about basic sexuality, love, and affection.  It was a time of practice and experimentation.  That song captured it so well. 

After three hours of listening to Bob Seger and The Silver Bullet Band’s music and allowing them to take us on this musical journey it was suddenly over.  The second encore ended with Rock & Roll Never Forgets, it doesn’t.  It was the best damn concert I have ever seen.  Seger rocks and I won’t forget that either.

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The Quest for Even More Cowbell III - To the Tail of the Dragon - The Music Video

Here is the music video,  details on the trip to follow.

Enjoy!




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Another Day, Another Quest, and More Cowbell

In days of yore, people of like lineage would depart their homes on journeys of purpose traveling together in a vehicle called a “station wagon”. While inside these vehicles there were numerous calls and chants for unity such as “Are we there yet?”, “Dad, my sibling is on my side of the car!!” and “I have to go to the bathroom!”. Such chants were punctuated by the lyric telling of tales regarding bottles of beer that somehow defied gravity by staying on the “wall” without visible means of support, until they were taken down and passed around. Another well-known tale was that of a canine whose name starts out identical to a number and letter based game of chance but then slowly degrades into a series of percussive slaps of the hand. Nevertheless, I digress-O.

Three years ago there was a journey undertaken by a man, one of his progeny, and a hound of incredible intelligence. The goal was to visit the father’s father who had recently acquired a medical marvel known as a “new shoulder”. The routing took them from the wilds of Michigan, to the Rock n Roll Hall of Fame, through West and Regular Virginia (where they visited another of the sons and his recently acquired love interest) then on the destination. Be assured the route home was no less wandering.

  

At some point during the journey, the trip itself became known as the “The Quest for More Cowbell” even though the trail was littered with stickers saying “AYBABTU”.

The following year the trip took on a new dimension as only the father and son were traveling and even though four wheels were again involved, this time there were two vehicles with two wheels each. The goal was circumnavigation of Lake Michigan and stops included the Harley-Davidson Hall of Fame and a place of mystery and wonderment known as Sheboygan with a secondary visit to Cheboygan. This was known to both a disinterested public and an ignoring press as “The Quest for More Cowbell II”.

On May 18. 2011, two strong, fearless, unconquerable and incredibly handsome travelers will again depart home and head out seeking fame, fortune, adventure… and of course more Cowbell. The journey will include stops in Columbus, Ohio and Wabash, Indiana. The goal that will be reached between these two bookends is the Smoky Mountains of Tennessee and a legendary Dragon begging to be slain. This adventure will forever more is known in lore, song and in my blog as: “The Quest for More Cowbell III”.

Face it,  life is better with more cowbell.

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I Met Her On Line...

When I approached her place, I saw her standing off to the side near the garage.  I parked and then got out and walked over to her.  Two thoughts ran through my mind, the first was that her picture in no way did her justice; she was gorgeous.  The other was that for some reason she sounded taller on line, it is odd how the mind fills in the blanks.As I got closer, I let my eyes wander over her and realized that she was only wearing a bra -- it made me smile.  When I reached her I purposely walked right past her, not wanting to let her know how much I really wanted to stand and stare.  Walking to her ass, I placed my hand on it and then let my hand glide up her body as I walked around her slowly.  She stood totally still and did not say a word or move a muscle.  I knew I was making her mine. 

After circumnavigating her, I stopped on her right side then I reached out and caressed her in a way that I knew would cause her to react.  It did.  She shuddered and then moaned with a deep throaty sound.  The shudder then calmed and turned into a deep throbbing vibration -- I could not resist her charms any more.  In a heated moment, I mounted her hard. 

She moaned louder as I stroked her and felt her vibrations throughout my body.  I threw my head back and smiled letting the waves of her free spirit wash over me unbridled.  I was in ecstasy as I first gave into her wiles and then grabbed her with both hands.  I took control of her -- not to tame her -- but to make her mine. She released herself to me, letting me have her full passion. Then I heard a sound behind me -- but we were so taken with each other we did not care who saw us or what they thought.

Then I heard it....

"So, I am guessing you want to buy the bike, come on inside when you um finish whatever it is you are doing there -- but I am not judging you, man."

 

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It Is For To Ride...

I have tried since starting this blog to express in words how it feels to ride. It is one of the most difficult writing assignments I've ever undertaken. I'm trying to write about a spirit that moves through me as opposed to things that have happened to me.

I've just finished reading Hunter S Thompson's book Hell's Angels: The Strange and Terrible Saga of the Outlaw Motorcycle Gangs and at the end of the book is a fantastic few pages where he truly captures the spirit of what it is like to be on a motorcycle. He talks about what it feels like to ride and need to feel the freedom that goes with it. That excerpt is at the end of this entry.

This season when I started riding, I started concentrating on what it felt like from the point when I first got on the bike, through the ride, and at the end when I finally dismounted. I will share those observations with you now since I am not going to be happy until I somehow capture something as well as Thompson did.

When I ride, from the minute I sit down on that seat and put on my helmet I feel the same sense of immortality and freedom that I had when I was 17. That doesn't mean that I don't think about consequences of actions but I don't concern myself with them because I know I've done what I can to minimize the risk. There is nothing left to worry about, because everything else is beyond my control. That's where the next set of feelings comes into play.

Every day I make hundreds of choices that have significant effect on people and things while I'm at work. Most of them are based on experience and my best judgment. That is what I'm paid to do. Nevertheless, for every one of those decisions that I make on the job there is someone above me who holds me accountable and can change things because they choose to. That secondary level of judgment doesn't exist on a bike.

Once I start, riding every decision that I make affects me directly and at the same time, I am the only one who is responsible for what happens. That means if I judge a curve wrong or if I'm not paying enough attention to traffic around me and something happens to a large degree I am the only one to blame. There are of course those instances when a driver just isn't paying attention and comes out of nowhere to cream a biker – – no one can do anything about those instances.

When I am riding, I become one with the machine. We react and act together as one being. I rely on her and she relies on me. It is a symbiotic relationship. Even though it is a machine and there is no God in the machine, there is an understood relationship between the two of us. Neither of us can let the other down without horrific effects to both.

Music is very important when I ride because it allows me to release my creative self in a way that nothing else does. When you couple that release with all the other feelings I have when I ride, it is the most opportune time for me to allow myself those feelings. It is like taking a good feeling and multiplying it by 10. The act of riding in itself is a high and the music just takes it that much higher.

I don't think when I ride. That is not to say that I'm not thinking about the ride itself or about the music or about the prettiness of the scenery what it means is that I'm not allowing things outside of me to cross my mind and trouble me while I'm on my bike. There are too many things going on at the same time and it crowds out all the bad crap of the day and doesn't allow that crap to affect the joy that I am feeling while I'm riding. This is an escape that I feel only while riding and during no other activity.

To me riding is poetry without words, art without pictures, touching pure spirit without a medium, flying without a plane and mind blowing sex without taking your clothes off.

Well friends that is the best I've been able to come up with so far. It still is something I'm completely satisfied with but at least I'm working on it. I think that every time I do this little exercise I come up with more and more things I'm feeling and thinking when I ride. I'm sure each of you that ride knows exactly the difficulty I'm talking about; you can identify how difficult it is to describe the experience. I was once told that no one can adequately describe something like love because it is a feeling and emotion too deep for words – – maybe that's true for riding as well.

The one thing that I'm sure is true is that there is no way that anyone who has never been on the back of a bike could possibly understand any of what I just wrote. There are blanks in it that can only be filled in by having experienced the freedom that comes from riding down the road being totally in charge of your own actions and having the wind in your face and hair. Awesome.

Now I will share another viewpoint on riding from Hunter S Thompson from his book Hell's Angels: The Strange and Terrible Saga of the Outlaw Motorcycle Gangs. I will say that I was never a big fan of his writing until I read this book but I thought that the book itself kind of missed the mark as it did not shed any new light on why people were motivated to do what they do. I would've passed it off as just a decent read until I read the final words in the book. Start at the third paragraph.

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We Be Jammin' - A Subway Musical

I was in Washington DC taking a five-day course at NDU. One of the days was to be spent going to a computer symposium in the center of the city. If you've ever been to DC, you know that the best way to get in and out of the center of the city is by the Metro. So, I took off early Tuesday morning and headed downtown using the Metro. I bought my ticket and stood on the platform waiting to get on the first train that was going to take me to Metro Center, while I waited I took my iTouch out of my shoulder bag and plugged in my earbuds and put them on. I flipped on the music and was instantly transported somewhere far away from the subway station. I had learned long ago that one of the ways to make the Metro ride more enjoyable was to bring your own music.

I caught the Blue Line train and all was well until we got to the station at Foggy Bottom I thought I heard the conductor say something about the Blue Line terminating – – I was supposed to ride this train all the way to Metro Center. Since it looked like everyone was getting off I jumped off as well rather than riding a train to wherever they go when the terminate (Subway Car Heaven?). I figured at worst I would have to wait for the next Blue Line train, which would be along in about 10 minutes. So while standing on the platform listening to my music I started to do what I normally do.

I find it hard to listen to good music and stand still. I tap my foot, I shake my head in time to the music, I move my hands, and I do just about anything but stand in one place. When the Allman Brothers Ain't Wasting Time No More came on I probably was moving a little more than usual. I was also looking around at all the various people in the station as I did this but suddenly when my I looked forward, I found a young woman of about 20 who was smiling at me. I started to take out my earbuds, but she shook her head and smiled pointing to her own earbuds – – then she held up the plug that was attached to the earbuds. I had to think about this for a minute, as I had never had anyone do anything like this.

I reached in my pocket, took out my iTouch, and held it out in front of me. I was holding on to it tightly because I still was not sure what was going on here and thought this might of been a ruse to steal my iTouch. She smiled and nodded and then removed my plug from the jack and slid hers in. Her eyes darted around the little and then they started nodding her head up and down, I can only guess in time with the music. She smiled again, took the plug for my earbuds, and plugged it into her iPod, which she removed from her pocket. It took a minute for me to recognize what kind of music it was – – some sort of techno dance number. When I looked at her, she smiled at me again and nodded her head – – I think it was her way of asking if it was okay with me. It wasn't bad so I nodded back. Then we stood there – – facing each other – – and enjoying each other's music.

She was doing a small impromptu dance to the Allman Brothers while I was kind of nodding along with whatever it was I was listening to. Suddenly the station filled with the sound of the arriving Orange Line train and she stopped dancing looked at me and smiled and waved as she pulled my jack out of her iPod and put it back into my iTouch then spun around and walked aboard the train. As the train started to pull out, she pressed her face to the glass and waved goodbye to me.

As I have said, I always try to say Yes to things – maybe that creates an aura of openness around me. It was just so unusual and so human to reach out the way she did and then she knocked down the walls of my fortress and invited me into hers so that we could share a few minutes together as human beings listening to music. As I reflected on this later in the day I wondered if I would ever be bold enough to do something like that to anyone.

When my train finally came along, I jumped on board and held onto the handrail as it pulled out of the station. I smiled about what just occurred to me in fact, I smiled a lot of the day because of it.





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February Score - Cabin Fever: 25, My Sanity: 3 (But I Still Won)

Several times over the winter I've gone out to the garage, pulled my Silverwing out placing it by the door, and started up to let it run. Originally, it was not my idea to keep my bike in the garage all winter long; my original plan called for full winterization and storage elsewhere. However, when the weather suddenly declined I was trapped, so I had added some Stabel to the gas tank, put her up on plywood squares, and added a cover to keep her from getting dirty. Not exactly full winterization, but sufficient to protect the bike.

I have actually been fortunate enough to ride every single month, at least once, since I bought the bike. This included December when I rode to work on a 30° day and January, when the temperature got up to 50° on the second. Now, I was sitting here in February under a foot or so of snow and roads that still had ice on them. Then came the forecast: three days of clear whether with a high of about 45° or so. They were mine.

The first day turned out to be a total loss. I got home late, and it was getting dark before I could even get the bike out of the garage. I checked the temperature and it had dropped below 30. Since all of the snow was melting this meant the roads had water on them that might refreeze, so – – I decided not to ride but to perform a safety check on my bike to make sure that everything was still working the way it should have been. It was.

The second day was perfect. I even managed to go work a little early, quickly came home, and changed so that I was ready to ride. I pulled the bike out of the garage, pointed her down the driveway and then climbed on board. I could almost hear Ghost Rider calling out "Let's ride…" as I fired up the engine. She started on the first try, a good omen. I sat there a few minutes allowing the engine to warm up and selected a good song for the ride. I had discovered while dressing to ride that my Q2 was not charged so I was using the stereo on the bike instead of my headset. Once I had some Bob Seeger playing, I released the clutch and rolled on the throttle.
As I headed down the driveway, I checked the front and back brakes to make sure that the grip was good. No problems there as I turned onto the road out of the driveway. I brought up the speed and laid her into her first turn. I talked before about muscle memory but really didn't know how much of a difference it was going to make until now, as I prepared to turn out of my street onto the main road I realized that I had to down shift out of second without ever remembering shifting into it. At some point, my body was acting and reacting as it should without conscious effort.

On the main road, I shifted through all the gears and was pleased with the way the bike reacted and quickly found myself traveling at about 70 miles an hour. I made the green lighting continued down the road, to where? Who cares… I was riding again for real. I put my feet up on the highway pegs and relaxed into the feel of the road and my bike.

Since the last time I really rode, I had lost about 30 pounds. I hadn’t really thought about what a difference this would make until now. When I was taking turns I had to add a little more muscle for the missing weight, it wasn't a bad thing, just little difference for which I had to adjust. I road down all of the main streets in town and then headed down a small stretch of highway that separates the East and West sides of the city. The bike was behaving beautifully; it was as if I had never spent a winter ignoring it in favor of a car.

I was kind of wandering aimlessly, just taking rights and lefts at will with no firm destination in mind. I realized it was getting colder because the sun was going down and I looked down to discover that I gone almost 40 miles. So, I turned around and headed home. Thus ended day two.

The forecast for the next morning had changed and it was supposed to rain. However, when I looked outside it was not raining so I jumped on my bike and rode to work. Smooth ride, a few surprised looks – – did I mention that I was the only bike on the road the day before? Work felt a lot better having ridden in, and it passed quickly which put me back on my bike riding on that afternoon. On the ride home I did see another bike – – crotch rocket with rider plus passenger. We nodded to each other as we headed down the roadway side by side. The passenger on the other hand, was either so surprised at seeing another bike or was just really jazzed about riding --- she was waving at me so vigorously that I thought she was going to affect the rider's balance. At one of the streetlights, they headed one way and I headed the other.

As I pulled in the garage, the rain started.

The weather forecast now had a snowstorm predicted for Sunday, but Saturday… Sunny and 40. As soon as the temperature hit 35, I jumped on the bike and was gone. I searched out many of my old runs down curvy country roads and even went by the location where my motorcycle safety class of been held so that I could ride that track. It was a full up blast.

When I finally got home, my son jumped on my bike and took off for a quick ride himself. He told me he saw at least two other bikes while he was out riding although I didn't see any when I was out earlier in the day.
The temperature dropped dramatically by the time my son got home, so as soon as he pulled it in I put the bike back up on the plywood and when it cooled, down covered it over again.

The next day the promised snow arrived and as I walked to the garage heading to the car, I patted my bike as I went by and said "Soon, Baby, soon"



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