Partying with the OFMC

© Ken Bingenheimer

Somehow the world has changed since the OFMC was formed and we started taking our summer motorcycle trips. In the beginning it was just the three of us, John, Bill, and me, and we were young guys out for a good time. Nights would generally find us in bars, carousing and having a good time. If there was a rodeo or festival going on in town, so much the better. We'd plunge in and become part of the crowd.

Now there are 9 of us, soon to be 10, and the generational split will be 5 and 5. John and Bill both have sons who have joined us, Johnathon and Jason, and each of them has brought along a friend. This year we'll add the brother of one of the friends.

Out on the road each day the only thing that has changed is the numbers. We still cruise along, make a lot of stops, and enjoy the camaraderie of this crowd of "stud bikers" (our self-deprecating term for ourselves). On the road, we're of one mind, enjoying the scenery, digging on the throbbing engines between our knees, and delighting in our escape from the day to day.

The differences show up in the evening. Probably the first time was when we stopped for a night in Telluride. Johnathon was with us this ride for the first time. We had dinner and hit some bar for a couple beers but it wasn't long before the older guys were thinking about bed. "What are you talking about?" says the younger Evans. "It's still early and there are a lot of good-looking women in this town."

Whatever time he made it back to the room, the rest of us were long gone in slumber.

The story was the same in Laughlin, NV, a couple years later. We'd done our gambling, eaten our inexpensive casino dinners, and were ready to head back across the river on the water taxi to our room. Johnathon had met some young ladies and the night was young. All we know is that he was in his bed come morning.

But age doesn't always act as a divide. Several years later, when the group first reached nine, we pulled into Deadwood, SD. To our good fortune, there was a festival going on in town and the Neville Brothers were doing a free concert in the middle of the main street. Special festival rules allowed you to carry your drinks with you out on the street as long as they were in the approved special containers. It was a big party.

After awhile some of the older guys started heading toward our rooms, but the young guys were just getting revved up. Bill, too. Suffice it to say that with both Bill and Todd, one of the younger guys, in the condition they were the next morning, we decided not to press on. Deadwood got our business for another day and night and we scrubbed our plan to ride the Beartooth that year because now we didn't have enough time.

The other side of the coin here, however, is that we older guys now have a lot more freedom and flexibility to take it easy and really enjoy the ride. Invariably the young guys are hustling back to family and jobs while those of us who are retired, unemployed, or motorcycle journalists leave a day or two ahead of the rest and stay out a day or two longer. We may not often rock the bars at night anymore but it feels pretty darn good watching the young guys taking off and knowing that for us, no rush. We'll get home eventually. Being on the road is too sweet to be in a hurry.