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Always nice to wake up to good news 
It seems that veteran moto-journalist Jim McDermott, a long time contributor to SuperbikePlanet.com, has started a blog — Called “Real World Rider” — And for one of his first posts he’s penned a review of “Ducati: A Story of Passion” , the DVD that we produced for Pro Italia Motorcycles last year!
Thanks for the kind words Jim 
Just after rolling out of bed, I was sleeping with open eyes while holding the first hot cup of black caffeinated gold when I entered MotorMilt’s garage to prep the bikes for a ride — Specifically the old man’s new F4 — Because today was the day, which given recent events, had been hastily scribbled on calendars in permanent ink between the previously marked moments which couldn’t move. Funny how a new bike demands, if not commands you, to make the time where none seems possible.
The previous night the old man and I had acted like starry-eyed children waiting to unwrap the next mornings’ presents, idly kicking around roads and routes with glee. Yet five minutes into our morning, the idyllic image of a maiden voyage (and a much needed ride) came crashing down with the click of a single garage door button. Instead of hearing the well worn chug of the metal chain, the door squealed to an apathetic, wailing halt. Four inches above the ground. Quickly hands moved, metal bent, grease and oil spread like a wildfire — but to no avail. The door had called it quits. Gone off and retired before the race was run and on the very day when it was going to give birth to a brand new motorcycle memory… Thus proving that it’s possible to have an Italian Motorcycle moment that has nothing to actually do with the bike… Finally, once the anger and anguish of the moment subsided, I found myself pulling on a deep drag from a smoke and thinking to myself, some days just aren’t meant to be… And so it goes…
Every so often those random cogitators and somewhat divergent particulars swimming around inside your head can come together in such a way that you stumble on to an idea that seems so right, so timely, so true, and so unequivocally correct, that no matter what might stand in your way you just know deep down in the soul of your soul that it not only makes sense but is something that you’ve just got to do…
Several weeks back while rolling around in bed at 2 AM, with a mind full of a thousand different thoughts running in a million different directions, I found myself replaying all the various bits from the day and in the darkness of the night it dawned on me that it was time to set the ultimate secret-ops plan in motion — to surprise the old man, MotorMilt, with a once in a lifetime kind of birthday present. The kind of out-of-left field shocker that on one hand doesn’t seem real (nor necessary but that is another thought for a different day) and yet on the other hand crystallizes in a tangible form all the words one wishes to express to someone else about their lifetime of selflessness, security and compassion.
You see the old man is not only my father but also my best friend — It is a relationship that I thank my lucky stars for on a daily basis and one which transcended the more typical parental-child logic or rational quite sometime ago. If every action has a reaction, then every act I’ve taken through out my life is directly based on a concrete foundation of logic and love that he helped mold. When I look in the mirror or perhaps more importantly backwards in the past, I cringe at the thought of what it would have been like to pedal up the hill of life without him — not that I couldn’t have but rather I wince at all the memories that would have been lost, the life lessons that I would have had to learn the hard way and the core, basic human interaction that I would have missed out on. Our lives, individually and collectively, have not been all spades all the time by any stretch of the imagination, but rather as I believe is true for the vast majority of folks, a series of staggered ups and downs that together represent what life is really about — the gradual up tick on the timeline of life.
Of course the irony is that up until my teenage years I barely knew the man. He was a ghost for all practical purposes, running around the world at the Network News level, traveling to far off destinations for world changing events that a child simply can’t comprehend. While I was screwing around in middle school or the like, he was watching the Berlin Wall fall as it happened, broadcasting bits of information from then closed-societies such as Russia, Cuba, Manila and the Philippines. In an era when domestic threats were easily definable and the news was still seemingly important appointment viewing television, he was part of a unique group that dropped what they were doing at a moments notice to chase the adrenaline kick that comes from being a witness to history. Of course to do that successfully one has to put everything else on the backburner - that’s how it works and that’s the lifestyle you lead - you know it going in when you get the gig. Yet somewhere along the line the old man broke from the mold, so-to-speak, and stepped back. Making a conscious decision to pull out and put his dreams on hold for mine — it’s a basic philosophy and one which has never wavered from that day forward, which in an era when personal ego rules I find rather incredible.
With the hustle and bustle of the rat race now squarely in the rear view mirror he set his attention towards me, not only helping in every way imaginable to give my dreams the chance to succeed but also setting a love for things with engines in motion. He consciously devised a gearhead-based strategy to bring us together, which not only taught me valuable life lessons for then and now but also cleverly created common ground between us. It was in many ways the beginning of the shorthand instinctive language that we share together and it’s amazing to me just how strong you can forge a friendship when you’re wrenching under an oil dripping straight-six with someone else.
Yet creating a motor-based playground was just the start. One of MotorMilt’s more magnanimous acts was always letting me do the actual wrenching. Much like today, he was there to support the task but not take it over. Teaching as opposed to ‘doing’ has been just one of Milt’s trademarks over the span of my life, yet I think it speaks to a fundamental truth about him. He always seems to put others ahead of himself. Sometimes, as happens in life, you begin to take brilliant attributes like this for granted and while I consider myself a thoughtful individual, I feel fairly certain that I pale in comparison to the altruistic standard that he’s set.
When you really get to it, he is the rock that I depend on every single day and while at times we have our arguments or disagreements, they never linger. They never twist from one subject to another or infiltrate other parts of life. There are no head games or hidden meanings. No darkness where there should only be light. Yet words, whether spoken or written, can’t adequately describe or detail what he means to me, what he’s done for me, who he is or what he stands for. These are the big ticket issues and they’re always paid on time and in full.
So with the old man’s birthday approaching, I thought if ever there was a time to condense all the thoughts and feelings one can’t easily say into the personification of a dream — his dream — now was the time.
Ever since we got back from the Italian portion of the Twist The Throttle shoot, whenever we’d shoot the shit or have an ad hoc bike discussion, Milt’s mind would seemingly drift to the MV Agusta F41000R. He’d talk about the craftsmanship, the details they got right, the emotions the bike presents, the way it felt like to ride. Time and again it felt like he was not describing a mere sportbike but rather the gal of your dreams that got away. And it was also something I knew he’d never get for himself. That’s simply not how he was wired. And while neither one of us needs a new motorcycle at the moment that’s not really the point. Rather it was time to help him live one of his fantasies… So happy birthday old man, may this be your golden chariot…
* Before I sign off the night, I’d like to throw a big shout out to Bill Nation and the boys at ProItalia — they got it on this one, understanding the situation, keeping the surprise and making everything easy. Thank you.
Happy Friday!
Things have been very busy around here, which is a good thing. Because of this I have not really kept up with the ChopperStickers.com blog as I should. I noticed that I have missed the Friday Eye Candy for the past two weeks.
Sorry about that, hopefully these two hot babes will make up for it
HAVE A GREAT WEEKEND!
On Monday I once again found myself standing at the edge of a pit wall watching the best of the best in this country lay down sizzling lap times during an AMA testing session at Laguna Seca. As long time TwistingAsphalt readers might remember a few years ago, when we were working on Speed On Two Wheels, I was fortunate enough to spend some time at Road Atlanta during a completely-closed-to-the-public testing session and I found it a more or less mind-blowing experience. This time around was both better and yet a completely different entity.
For starters the event was actually open to the public - I think much to the teams dismay actually - and that created an ‘in the know’ atmosphere. Back at Road Atlanta everyone’s guard was down because it was just the teams doing their thing and the event had a bit of a ‘club house’ feel. Monday everyone seemed a touch more guarded, a touch more reserved and generally more intense, which is both understandable in my opinion and yet I think also highlights a need to ‘perform’. The Pro’s not only want to be fast but they want the fans to enjoy it and that added a certain extra element to the day.
We were there to do some additional pick up shooting for the yet to be named project and the folks at the track were kind enough to let us set up in our own garage at the end of Pit Row, which selfishly allowed me the chance to see guys like Mladin, Duhamel, Hodgson, Bostrom and Hacking do what they do up close. It’s a remarkable thing to stand mere feet away from these guys (behind the pit wall of course) when they hit the front straight and head into the Turn 1 left kink full out. The speed is ferocious. And wickedly instantaneous. Just bam. Yet the part that truly stood out was seeing these guys interact when they were off the bikes — the typical race day TV coverage never completely catches their focus, dedication, effort or intensity. You tune in and see forty-five minutes of racing and then it’s over. But a test session is different because it’s an all day affair where the guys put down hundreds of laps, tweaking each part of the bike a millimeter at a time to see what works best. Physically I’ve got no idea how they do it. This isn’t like an average track day or even some of the club races I’ve seen, it’s a constant whirlwind of movement and it’s all got to be done at green flag racing speeds, which amazes me. They seem to work at a level of perfection that is completely unobtainable in the ‘real world’.
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