What My Grandparents' Farm Taught Me About Motorcycle Life

Remember when you first started your motorcycle and felt that sense of freedom wash over you? It's a feeling that connects surprisingly well with the wisdom coming from America's heartland. This episode explores the unexpected parallels between the farmer's way of life and the motorcyclist's journey, revealing how both share a profound relationship with machinery, nature, and community.

Growing up visiting my grandparents' farm gave me perspective that shapes my riding today. At just 10 years old, my grandfather taught me to drive a 1966 Chevrolet C10 pickup with simple instructions: "don't run over anything." That early lesson in machinery and responsibility mirrors what we experience as riders - respecting our motorcycles, maintaining them properly, and understanding their importance to our freedom.

Farmers face the unpredictability of Mother Nature every day, with their livelihoods dependent on weather patterns beyond their control. Similarly, as motorcyclists, we confront changing road conditions, unexpected storms, and mechanical challenges that require adaptability and composure. Both farmers and riders develop a special relationship with the outdoors - experiencing the world through all senses rather than through screens.

The wisdom from the fields applies perfectly to the open road: respect your machine, embrace the journey, adapt when necessary, and value the community around you. While most of us aren't rising at dawn to milk cows or harvest crops, we can learn from the farmer's steady resilience and passion. When was the last time you appreciated your motorcycle as not just transportation but as a dream fulfilled - your own personal connection to freedom and the natural world?

Listen now and discover how embracing the farmer's mindset might just transform your next ride. Share your thoughts about how these two worlds connect in your own experience. How has your motorcycle become more than just a machine to you?

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Episode Transcript

Ron (00:07):
His name was Oliver.
He was a successfulHarvard-educated attorney in New
York City, but over time hebecame, I don't know,
disillusioned Maybe that's theright word Disillusioned by the
hustle and bustle of the citylife.
Instead, he longed for thesimplicity and independence of

(00:27):
rural living.
He dreamed of leaving behindthe urban life and becoming a
farmer.
So one day, against the wishesof his glamorous and
materialistic wife Lisa, oliverbought a dilapidated farm in a
small town where he embraced therole of a farmer.
His dream had come true.

(00:49):
There, in the little farm towncalled Hooterville, oliver
Wendell Douglas was changedforever.
And some of you are saying waita minute, that's the old TV
show Green Acres.
That's right, you got me.
But maybe it's just a fantasydream by those of us who grew up

(01:10):
in the city.
You know, I grew up in a smalltown, but it was not farm town
at all.
I don't know, maybe realfarmers and ranchers envy our
lives in town, but I doubt thatToday we're diving into the
unexpected connection, one thatlinks the steady, time-honored
wisdom of a farmer with thefreedom-seeking spirit of a

(01:33):
motorcycle rider.
Yeah, it's easy to romanticizerural life, much like Oliver
Wendell Douglas did in GreenAcres, but behind the charm of a
farm life lies a deepunderstanding of machines, a
required resilience to keepgoing no matter what, and an
unshakable respect for MotherNature.
Let's talk about it.

(01:56):
Thank you for joining me today.
Recorded in beautiful Loveland,colorado.
Welcome to Peace, love Moto thepodcast for motorcyclists
seeking that peaceful, easyfeeling as we cruise through
this life together.

(02:17):
Are you ready, let's go?

(02:38):
How many of us feel, I don'tknow, weird or at least
discouraged, when we think abouthow many hours we spend in
front of a computer screen andhow many hours we've spent in
front of this tiny little screenin our hand that we also call a
phone.
Unimaginable, how many hours wehave spent.
I can't complain, though.

(02:58):
I mean, I've made a good livingin front of a computer screen,
and sometimes well, yeah,sometimes I just think about
what are my grandchildren goingto think of me from when they
look back at whatever age andwhen we're not staring at
screens anymore, I hope and theylook back at us on how many
years and years we spent staringat the phone or staring at the

(03:22):
computer screen, when there's areal outdoors going on out there
, where there are sunrises andsunsets and birds are singing
outside, all the time we'reinside staring at a screen.
I don't know, but I wasfortunate enough to know my
grandparents on my mother's sideespecially knew them well.

(03:43):
My grandparents taught me whatit means to be a farmer.
My grandfather he was known asBuddy, but my cousin and I we
called him Papa.
Papa was the one who taught mycousin Randall and I how to
drive.
He taught us on the same day.
I was maybe 10 or 11 years oldand my cousin Randall was about
a year younger.
I'll never forget that day andthat pickup truck.

(04:06):
I believe it was a 1966Chevrolet C10.
It had a three-speed manualtransmission.
At 10 and 11, my cousin and Iwere in no position to learn how
to drive.
We couldn't get in positionbecause we weren't tall enough,
but we made it work.
We could barely see over thedash, but Papa God bless him he

(04:29):
felt compelled to teach hisgrandsons how to drive, and so
he did.
We rode together out into afield where there were no fences
and no trees.
Papa got out of the truck,moved the seat as far forward as
it would go and he said to usdon't run over anything.
And that was our instructions.
And we said to us don't runover anything and that was our

(04:52):
instructions and we didn't, wedidn't.
I don't think we even stalledthe truck very many times.
Anyway, my cousin already grewup on a farm and he had, of
course, many experiences withmachinery that I hadn't yet had.
I just got my first mini bike,but beyond that I didn't know a
lot about machinery.
But we learned, we learnedreally well.
We also learned from mygrandmother, nettie May, who we

(05:12):
called Mimaw, and like mygrandfather, nettie May was
extremely good with machineryand she could drive just any of
the same equipment that the mencould.
Together, as farmers, theirworld revolved around early
mornings, a big breakfast madefrom scratch by my grandmother
and an unwavering commitment totheir land and to their machines

(05:36):
.
Needless to say, their worldwasn't about constantly being in
front of a screen, as we aretoday.
Not at all.
It was about being hands-on.
It was about faith, it's aboutcourage and it's about knowing
what you're doing.

(06:04):
A farmer's livelihood depends onthe reliability of the machines
the tractors, the planters, thecombine, the cotton stripper,
all those machines.
Yeah, that's our livelihoodthere, right as farmers.
If a machine breaks down andyou can't fix it, well, just
about everything stops.
Weeks or maybe even monthsworth of work can become undone

(06:26):
by a single mechanical failure.
You've got to take care of theequipment.
This is something mygrandparents taught me.
Beyond the machines, they alsotaught me about the
unpredictability of MotherNature.
One year they'd make amoney-making crop and do quite
well.
Then the next year they'd be onthe brink of losing everything
because of weather that justdidn't go as planned.

(06:49):
It was a reminder that nomatter how well we prepare,
whether we're farmers ormotorcycle riders, mother nature
is always in charge.
Too much rain, not enough rain,a sudden freeze after a warm
spell the unpredicted can changeeverything in just an instant.
And yet, through it all, buddyand Nettie Mae remain steady and

(07:11):
strong farmers, holding on tothe things that mattered most
family resilience, their faithand love for other people.
Hopefully, some of that rubbedoff.

(07:38):
It's probably safe to say thatmost of us are not farmers.
We don't rise up early in themorning to milk the cows and
tend to the crops, but our jobsdon't hinge on whether or not
the tractor is going to start inthe morning.
Many of us don't spend muchtime outdoors.
We spend a lot of time indoors,in front of our screens,

(07:58):
working a world far removed fromthe uncertainty of a farm, I
suppose.
And yet in our garage,something waits for us, a
machine of our own that we dodepend on.
Our motorcycles may not be tiedto our income necessarily, but
they are tied to something justas important our connection with
Mother Nature, our passion, ourfreedom, our sense of adventure

(08:22):
, our mental health, maybe.
Like a farmer's tractor, ourmotorcycles require care, oil
changes, tire checks, chainadjustments and lubrication.
All these little, small acts ofmaintenance ensure that when
the open road does call, we cananswer it without hesitation.
I think that we motorcycleriders can learn quite a lot

(08:47):
from the lessons of a farmer.
Here's just a few things maybeto think about.
Respect for the machine.
Farmers depend on their tractors, their plows, all their
equipment for their livelihood.
They know that propermaintenance is essential for
keeping all the tools working,all the machines running, just

(09:08):
like the motorcycles that wecare for.
Taking care of again, the oilchanges, the tire inspections
and overall upkeep Keep itreliable.
A lot of times some of us findourselves out in the middle of
nowhere, and it's not a place tofind out that, uh-oh, I should
have taken care of somethingearly on, especially when you're
in the middle of nowhere whereI like to hang out generally.

(09:30):
Most likely our hard-earnedmoney was spent on that
motorcycle too.
It's a gift in the garage.
It's something that we shouldtake care of.
Farmers know also, no matterhow well they prepare, weather
and unforeseen changes willdisrupt the plans.
A sudden drought or early frostcan really break up the season,

(09:51):
and riders face a similarunpredictability changing road
conditions, sudden storms,mechanical issues that require
adaptability, to say the least,and a calm that's hard to say.
Sometimes.
It's definitely hard to act outa calm, problem-solving mindset
Again, especially when we'rebroken down in the middle of

(10:14):
nowhere.
Farmers appreciate the outdoors.
They spend a lot of their daysunder the open sky, working in
harmony with mother nature andriders too.
We experience the world in away that most people don't.
Sitting in their cars, feelingthe warmth of the sun or
smelling the fresh rain,smelling the fields after that

(10:35):
rain, after the hay has been cut, riding to me, immerses me into
the natural world, maybe justas farming does.
Farmers often rely, too, on atight-knit community.
Most of them reach out to eachother for advice, for help, for

(10:56):
camaraderie, to have dinnertogether, motorcycle riders too.
We experience a sense ofbrotherhood or sisterhood out on
the road, whether you're out ona group ride or attending a
rally or just having aconversation with a stranger at
a gas station, riders supportand learn from each other, just
like farmers do.
In the end, whether you'reriding a motorcycle or working

(11:20):
the land, the lessons are thesame Respect your machine,
cherish the outdoors, adapt whenyou have to.
But, most importantly maybe,what makes it unique for us?
On motorcycles, we just embracethe journey.
We just embrace the ride.

(11:51):
Next time I go for a ride, I'mgoing to try to be extra
thoughtful about one thing,about the fact that owning and
riding a motorcycle for me was adream come true, in the same
way that Oliver Douglas hisdream came true to become a
farmer At some point.
Even as a little kid, I becamea motorcycle rider, and I still

(12:12):
am, and I am so grateful forthat.
I know you are too.
As always, thank you so muchfor listening.
I wish you peace.
I wish you love the Shores, theShores, listening.

(12:35):
I wish you peace.
I wish you love.