Daytona Bike Week, sort of.

Blog #31

Setting at a beautiful RV park in DeLand, Florida, about 40 minutes from Daytona, the week after the famous Daytona bike week. We didn’t come for bike week, didn’t even have room in the toy hauler for the bike this trip.

We came to visit family in DeLand. Actually, I didn’t even think much about bike week until we shared the Florida roadway with so many motorcycles of all type and size that we could hardly get into gas stations to fill up. (The downside of pulling a trailer rv with a gas fueled truck.)

I avoid giant bike rallies. Don’t care for the excessive crowds, behavior and drunkenness. The only way I’d hang out at a big rally would be as part of an organized Christian biker presence. I have great respect for the Christian biker groups that represent that way.  

I’m told that Daytona bike week comes right after DeLands bike week, which draws a very substantial crowd on its own. 

No surprise that the beautiful riverside, marina-side rv park we found hosts many giant toy hauler rigs of all makes and model, and most book the site for at least a month. Motorcycles everywhere.
There’s a full size bar and grill at this rv/marina. Sunday night it was packed with vest, patch wearing bikers, many doing their best to display the tough guy, full-blown, Charlie Bronson persona. Some of them actually appeared to be the real thing.

My favorite was the FDNY Fire Riders patch. I thought briefly about asking them if they trailered down as so many do. (Daytona bike week is also known as Daytona Trailer Week.)

That tough-guy biker persona doesn’t match the mostly new beautiful Harleys and Indians they ride in on, or the $100K trucks, $250K+ rvs, and probably the reasonably responsible life and job waiting for them back home. I think many, husbands and some wives, embrace an alter ego when on the bike, and especially when away from home for several weeks. I know, I know, that’s pretty judgmental. I’m working on that.
There are a few bold enough to ride their metric bike and even wear the nearly forbidden helmet into that mess. I respect that minority.

So, what’s got me to thinking about this is two fold. First, some of the adult biker behavior is between rude and obnoxious, more like what you expect from a 17 year old with his first bike: open pipes, stereo that you can hear three blocks away, and the angry James Dean scowl, many old enough to know who JD is.
Reminds me of our behavior on that first off-base pass after basic training. If you know, you know. Nothing I’m proud of today.

The second thing that’s got me on this topic, when we checked in at this rv park, the lady told us to expect a very somber mood at this strip of the park. A husband/wife team had crashed the day before: killed him and had her life-flighted to a trauma center. “If she makes it, we’re told she’ll need major facial reconstruction.”
A horrible, but not icelated occurrence during Daytona bike week. It was really heavy to hear as my wife and I are avid riders.

Turned out our site is right beside the decedents beautiful, new, giant fifth wheel toy hauler. And, it was set up with great care and attention to detail. This guy knew what he was doing and took great care with his stuff. It’s a model set up. Reminded me of the way my grandfather took great care of his things. 
We speculated amongst the two of us, what might of happened: reckless riding, drinking, helmets? Or, maybe not his fault at all. Maybe someone else made mistakes.

My wife is a great researcher. She found the basic information on line, amongst the other bike week crashes, some fatal.
He was 77, riding a 2015 HD Electra, wife on the back, police reported no helmets, but “Lou” here at the campground knew the deceased well: “Been meeting them here for six years.” Lou saw the couple an hour before their fateful crash and they wore half helmets. Lou says they had the helmets on that night.

A half helmet is what one wears so they can feel like they’re wearing a helmet, but unless a small rock falls on you from the sky, half helmets, aka brain buckets, aren’t of much use in a real crash, at least not to anything below your eyebrows.

Horribly tragic. Just hearing about it sticks with you. He was at fault, failed to see a biker turning. The reoccurring thought is, “There but for the grace of God, go I.” We’ve all made riding mistakes. The Lord and those who ride with me know I’ve made my share.
Makes me wonder how old is too old to have your significant other as a passenger. It’s one thing to take the risk yourself, but a passenger?

And, this Daytona culture is a helmetless culture. If you read this blog you know that a 3/4 helmet saved my life. God sent me a message that day and I heard it loud and clear.  I’ll not ride without one and even if I did, I’d never influence my passenger wife to ride helmetless. She wouldn’t anyway. 

One guy here said, “When it’s my time, it’s my time. I’ll never wear a helmet.” I thought, but didn’t say, “Yeah? Tell that to the passenger who can’t come to your funeral because she’s just starting the first of many reconstructive surgeries.” 

Mid way through writing that last sentence a couple stopped by to tell me the 74 year old wife passed last night. Unbelievably sad. As he described the extent of her damages, I wondered if it was Gods mercy that she passed. At 74 it would be very hard to wait for bones to heal and live surgery to surgery for the next several years.

Well, we need to go walk the dog and I need to stop looking at this rv next door with the ac running, radio on inside, meticulous set up, but vacant.

I think that those riders of us that remain need to always: be respectful of the communities we ride through, be sober, and influence those in our care to wear safety gear. Hardest of all, we also need to know when it’s time to forgo the passenger, time to trike up or time to hang up the spurs. That takes honest self-awareness and courage.

May the Lord bless and keep you and give you safe travels and His discernment.