I first posted this last year around this time. I still ride on January first every year and I still wish it was warmer for that ride!

There is something about bikers that demands that traditions be observed. I don’t mean the “national holiday” or “it’s your birthday” kind; I mean the ones we make for ourselves.

A good riding experience is often repeated, even named and retold in stories. Same with bad experiences. They get rehashed, shared, and in the case of the unfortunate accident or laydown, they may even become legendary. (at least in the mind of the participant!)

All you have to do is mention that you had a close call and most bikers within the same zip code will be happy to share THEIR close calls with you. We love to tell these stories, I think, for several reasons. First, misery loves company! If I gotta feel bad, EVERYONE’s gonna share! Second, there is wisdom in experience. When I tell you about the blind corner down that road, maybe it will keep you from developing the case of road rash I have just recovered from! Third, if I tell you about something marvelous, it makes a connection. When I show you that stretch of perfect turns to carve, it becomes a bond we share.

It’s that third reason that causes me to write about the New Year’s Ride.

Lots of us have traditions we observe in the riding world and one of mine started when I was at the tender age of 17. A mere high school lad, skinny and with lots of attitude, but not much money, I had saved up my meager bucks for two years to buy my second two-wheeled vehicle. The first one was a 150cc scooter, which still sits in my garage today, but that’s another story. I had always, always lusted after a BIG bike. Now, the Seattle cops had an auction each year to get rid of their old Hogs and I was determined to go and make a bid on one. My Dad (God bless him) agreed to match my funds, if I got good grades, so I trotted down to the auction with a total of $550. Big dough in those days.

I came home with a 1963 Panhead and a title that said, “mine”. I was about three feet off the ground! I immediately called my four biking buddies and off we went. It was late in the Fall and the weather was not great, but we didn’t care. As time passed, the winter turned rotten, but the Pan was my transportation, so I rode it back and forth to school.

Winter break came, and the bike sat in the garage until after Christmas. The day before New Years, I got a call from my friend Roger who said it was sure rotten that we couldn’t ride (He had a Triumph Bonney). Fueled by youthful bravado, we decided that, rain or shine, come hell or high water, we would ride on New year’s Day!

The next day dawned crisp and cold, but miraculously clear. We had agreed to meet at a neutral spot so neither of us could back out. I showed up and he was there, bundled up and grinning. Any biker knows the feeling of seeing a partner at the rendezvous, ready to ride! You get a rush, knowing that the wheels will turn and the miles will fly by.

We rode.

I don’t remember the route, just that we rode. It was damn cold, I remember, and we didn’t ride for very long. But we rode. And that was the start of a tradition for me.

Every year, on New Year’s Day, I ride. Over the many years since that first ride, there have been a few when I didn’t have a bike. But every New Year’s Day that a two-wheeler sits in the garage, I go out and put on some miles. Sometimes alone, sometimes with a group, but always on that day. It’s kind of a validation that I do for myself, but I think of those who have ridden with me sometimes. Many of those rides include my old friend Roger. But we drifted apart for awhile, so I rode with new friends and partners.

A ride on the first of the year means something in the Northwest. In this part of the country, the weather doesn’t always cooperate. In California or Nevada or Texas, you can do a January ride in a t-shirt or light vest. Not here. I have had all kinds of bikes, and you haven’t lived until you’ve ridden a chopper with a 16” over front end in the freezing Seattle rain! I see you nodding your heads.

I’ve talked with hundreds…maybe thousands of bikers. Lots of us have a tradition of an annual ride or event or gathering that we make a part of our lives. Mine is no different. The ride is, of course, open to anyone. The only requirement is having a bike and showing up! There is no check point, no poker hand to play, no donation, no ride pin. It’s a pure experience. Riding for the sheer joy of watching the white lines go by under the pegs and feeling the buzz of the engine in the grips. That, and the look in the eyes of my riding partners when the ride is done. You know that look. If you go to the dictionary and look up the word ‘brotherhood’, that look is the picture you will find.

So……you up for a ride?