On the Road with The Chief

What's Your Name?

2012-01-06T14:48:00.007-05:00

I've always disliked my name. As far back as I can remember, my name has been an issue to me. I probably told my mother on dozens of occasions, just how unhappy I was that she named me Daryl. "Why didn't you name me something normal like the other three boys in the family?" I would often ask her in an unpleasant tone.

It's funny to me that fifty-plus years later, I still feel the same way.

Many times, when I introduce myself to someone and utter the name Daryl... I feel as though I am introducing someone other than myself. My name is foreign to me now, just has it has always been.

When I was running today, I thought about how different the world would be if our labels were something other than names. What if the human race was assigned numbers upon birth, rather than names? That would be pretty cool. "Hey honey, I'm going over to 68456348s house for awhile." Just a thought.

After I graduated from high school, where my name was the subject --on many occasions --of ridicule, I joined the ranks of a police agency where I then became a number. "Seneca to 157, respond to a domestic dispute. Nothing physical yet, just some name calling". This seemed to suit me pretty well. Along with the number assignment, my new label was now "Deputy". I liked that much better.

Later on in years as my career developed, my label changed a couple of more times. First to Sergeant and then finally to Chief. I enjoyed being called Chief rather than Daryl and it probably showed. My twin sons, after convincing me to retire from the uniform and badge gig at the ripe young age of 48, hired me at their company where I would acquire the name of Chief Sales Representative. They always introduced me as "Chief" and typically that's how they would address me. If they called me "Dad", it was usually going to be a pretty serious conversation.

So now, as I enter yet another phase of my life --having actually retired this time, and relocated to the Sunshine State, I'm laying the ground work for yet another label. Although many still refer to me as "Chief", I'm really not a chief anymore. As I venture out now, hopefully into the entertainment world, I need to come up with a snazzy (yes, I said snazzy) stage name. I don't care to be introduced as "Daryl, the trumpet player" nor do I care to be called the Chief trumpet player.

The other day during a conversation, Patti --my fiancée (now there's a neat label) referred to me as "that trumpet guy" and I kind of like that. Think about it... I live in an adult community filled with bad drivers and failing memories. "Hey Agatha, let's go back to the italian restaurant where that trumpet guy was playing. He sucked, but the food was great!"

~Safe Travels~

-Daryl

The Miracle (Part II)

2011-10-30T13:19:00.002-04:00

If Jocelyn had been aware of how anxious everyone was to meet her, she may have chosen to enter our world somewhat earlier.

She's here now though, and everything in the world is right.

Several months ago, probably around nine or so, my daughter called me to tell me the news -- "Dad... Manny and I are going to have a baby."
I was happy for her, and I tried to make that evident during our phone conversation. Though I tried my best to sound thrilled with her news, I know that she could detect a slight amount of insincerity. I'll admit once again, that I'm not really growing old gracefully, and the title of "grandfather, grandpa" or the like, initially didn't set very well with me.

But that was then, and now is now.

Almost two weeks overdue, little Jocelyn finally left behind her dark and warm fortress of solitude, and made her grand entrance into the world that we all know. The delivery had its complications, but the end result was perfect, wonderful, and extremely emotional for everyone involved.

I'm almost embarrassed to admit that I did have those feelings initially. Understand though, that I've always been somewhat vain, but I think being a grandfather now has helped me to grow emotionally. There, I said that word..."grandfather" and it actually makes me feel happy.

Thus ends the (written) story --The Miracle Part I and Part II, but it's really just the beginning.

I'm thinking that "grandpa" will be a frequent flyer to the state of California. For now though, I'll just pack my bags and hop a plane back to Florida. It's been a wonderful month Kristin and Manny. I enjoyed the visit --the San Diego Zoo, Gaslamp Quarter, the tour of the U.S.S. Midway, tour of Stone Brewery (what I remember of it- thanks Eric) and all of the walking we did to help Jocelyn along her journey.

Jocelyn Mae Laguna
Born 10/28/11 - 7:01 p.m.
8lbs 3oz
21" and Well Done.

~Safe Riding~

-The Chief

The Miracle (Part 1)

2011-10-28T08:48:00.003-04:00

2100 hours... Okay, for those who can't convert, that's nine o'clock p.m.

That was our arrival time at Navy Medical last night, here in San Diego. My daughter, son in-law, and I reported here after what has seemed like an eternity of waiting for their daughter, and my first grandchild to arrive. We are twelve days overdue.

So, like any good father would do, I sit here and wait patiently. In my dark corner of the room I watch and listen intently as nurses come and go throughout the night. I'll say one thing about this place --the service to my daughter has been top notch! There have been complications, but nothing extreme or alarming, at least to me. However, I do realize that it's easy for a man to feel this way --it's not my body that's involved.

As is usual for me, anytime that I am placed in an environment where I have thinking time, I do in-fact think. Things that are typically relevant to my immediate situation are what generally flood my mind.

Wasn't it just yesterday that my only daughter --the one whom will soon have the title of "mother"--sat patiently in my kitchen sink for her daily bath? Is this the same little girl who would sing to me each morning, the "acorn" song? Where did the time go?

My next "On the Road" tale will surely be about the newest member of our family, but for now...I sit and wait. It has been a long night.

Hang in there Kristin. The pain will soon be gone and forgotten as you bask in an unbelievable feeling of love and joy for a new human being that you and Manny have brought into this world.

0500 hours and waiting patiently...

~Safe Riding~

-The Chief

And the Angels Sing

2011-10-25T11:19:00.001-04:00

If man pays close enough attention to certain events in his life, he will realize that some of those events hold hidden lessons --life lessons.

It was about a year ago that I met Josephine. The day was a typical autumn day in New Jersey. After picking Patti up at the elementary school where she was teaching, she asked me if I would take her to see Josephine. I was somewhat familiar with Jo, having had a few conversations with Patti about her. Patti was her tutor.

Josephine was like any other six year old, and because I have always liked kids, we had a fun visit. Although the visit was short, it gave me time to learn a lot about this special young lady. An infectious smile coupled with bright and beautiful eyes, spoke volumes about this young and struggling for life, tot. Josephine, just a short time ago, had been diagnosed with a rare form of cancer.

That night, as Patti and I enjoyed some quiet time together, I remember speaking about our visit with Josephine. I thought about, and spoke of my own existence, and how I felt that I had no right at all to complain about any of my own ailments. Although not typically one to complain, I realized that I often mentioned the minor aches and pains I was experiencing, associated with my recently diagnosed arthritis. "I don't even know what pain is", I remember telling Patti, as I thought about the pain that little Josephine had surely endured during the past year or so.

A few months later, Patti and I attended a benefit dinner and auction which was being held for Josephine and her family --the profits of which were being utilized to help defer the tremendous medical costs which were continuously growing. Josephine was there and I felt fortunate that I had the chance once again to visit with her, although only for a brief period. The love and caring atmosphere that was felt at this event was somewhat overwhelming to me. The thoughts I had felt from my previous visit with her, were rekindled that evening.

Patti was Josephine's tutor.

The reality however, is that little Josephine was really Patti's tutor. There was a deeper relationship than Patti teaching Josephine those types of things that teachers teach children. Patti didn't tell me this, in-fact we haven't really even discussed my thinking here or the fact that I'm writing this story, but I will state again --Josephine was really Patti's tutor, for Josephine helped to teach Patti about life. I know this, because I was also a recipient of this life lesson. It was a hard hitting lesson Josephine, and as I silently weep --know that it was a good lesson for me.

Last night, Patti received the call. Little Josephine had succumbed to the cancer. An innocent and beautiful little child was now an angel. I have no better way to say it, as my thoughts during this writing are clouded.

May you truly rest now --free of pain-- in peace.

In memory of the littlest of angels -

Josephine 2005 - 2011

My Little World

2011-10-19T12:41:00.007-04:00

I'm just not ready, and that's that. No one may understand, but the fact is --I like it here in my warm and comfortable fortress of dark security. I'm sure that life on the outside is probably okay, but for now I'll just remain here a little longer, and learn and grow in the comfort of my surroundings.

The muffled sounds outside are interesting to me. I don't quite understand the voices but they seem to be fairly constant, although there is a short break from the sounds every so often, and the silence seems to be on a schedule. There also seems to be a lot of activity, a certain type of movement somewhat regularly. Sometimes the movement I speak of tends to make me feel like I'm falling --head first, but overall I feel secure.

Wait, there's that strange feeling again --as if something very cold is trying to permeate my fortress. Usually when I get this sensation of cold (kind of like ice cream cold, although I'm not really sure what that is) but not uncomfortable change in my secure environment, the feeling lasts for just a short time. Gradually, the warm and gentle surroundings that I am so used to, return and I am once again at peace. I love my environment as I grow each day.

I have been here for a very long time, although I don't yet really understand time --in-fact, I don't really understand too much at this point in my life. I am alive however and I have many thoughts. Thoughts are forming each day but for now, I'll just stay here and enjoy this warm and comfortable fortress that I have grown to love.

There will be plenty of time to learn about life, and plenty of time to learn about the world. These are all of the things that everyone else knows about except me.

I am alive you see, but I haven't yet been born into your world. I am on the way however, so relax and enjoy each day until I decide to make my grand entrance into our world.

*Relayed to me from my soon to be born granddaughter, Jocelyn.

~Safe Riding~

-The Chief

The Road Less Traveled

2011-10-04T08:27:00.003-04:00

I think thoughts. I think about things that everyone else thinks about but I feel unfulfilled unless I write about them.

I'm now approaching a milestone with my newest life --a life of Florida living. It's hard to believe that it has been almost one year since I packed up my belongings and headed south from the Empire State. I've learned a lot about Florida in just this one year and I want to share some of my thoughts. Some good, some not so good.

First and probably the most joyous of reasons that I chose Florida to be my new stomping grounds was weather based. The weather here, simply stated is marvelous. Of course, I realize at this point in my life that no matter where you go, people --as a general rule, aren't happy unless they're complaining about something. So as much as I like the climate here and love the heat, I hear pretty much daily that "it's too hot". Excuse me sir, "why the hell did you move to Florida if you don't like heat?"

The people here are people. I've made a recent decision to stay away from the local news on television. In a nutshell, it's just plain scary. I thought that New York harbored some of the weirdest thugs and back-woods rednecks in the land. I was wrong... so wrong.

I won't mention motorists in the state of Florida. Uh, I guess I just did. Truthfully however, it doesn't matter what state you travel or reside in --bad drivers outweigh good drivers at least ten to one. Most of them were born in New Jersey and then apparently moved to all points around the nation. The only difference is that those whom relocated to Florida are also legally blind. End of story.

Finally, I'll discuss the choice I made last year as far as the exact area of Florida I chose to reside in. In-fact, there's a previous "On the Road" story about it.

The Villages are located in north central Florida and are considered the optimum of retirement communities -- a sort of Utopia if you will. There are probably more golf carts here than automobiles. There are also more older folks than I've ever seen in my entire life. Don't get me wrong, I don't dislike the older generation. I'm heading in that direction as we speak. It's entirely possible that I'm having a fairly hard time accepting the fact that I'm aging, and not gracefully.

The Villages are unique. A couple of weeks ago, I took a walk around my neighborhood. It was around 9:00 p.m. and a gorgeous evening. Within minutes of my walk, I felt like Rod Serling had come back to life and was writing another Twilight Zone episode about a ghost town. This place was eerily dead. I mean, after all... it was early evening and there was absolutely no sign of life --house after house after dark and quiet house. I wondered, has everyone retired for the evening already, or is everyone out partying in the town square. My guess is the latter of the two because one thing I have discovered that is certain --Village residents tend to live like there is no tomorrow.

The Villages boasts many great reasons to live here --the convenience of all types of stores and restaurants, live entertainment nightly and probably most importantly, inexpensive beer. I was told prior to my move here, that the Villages are considered the adult Disney World. This is an accurate description.

I was wise to move into a rental home first, to get an overall view of the area prior to purchasing a home in Florida. I think another year of renting will complete my investigation. My second year however will be spent looking at the Villages from the outside, rather than from within --as I head up the road just a piece.

"Hello, UHaul... I need to rent a truck."

~Safe Riding~

-The Chief

Blowing My Own Horn

2011-09-24T17:01:00.001-04:00

I was speaking with an old friend of mine recently, catching up on each others lives. We hadn't been in contact with each other for a few years, so there was much to discuss. Toward the end of the conversation, I asked if he had read any of my "On the Road" tales. He replied somewhat sarcastically that my stories were about all of the great places I've been and great things I've done, and so he hadn't.

Our conversation made me realize that in-fact he was right. My stories are pretty much about me and my travels, hence the name --On the Road with the Chief. It kind of makes sense to me that "my" stories are about "my" travels and things that "I've" done. I do know "me" best and it's easiest to talk about me. I guess it could be said that I like to "blow my own horn".

Speaking of which, let me tell you about my most recent endeavor.

When I was around eleven or twelve years old, I decided that I wanted to learn to play the trumpet. I remember approaching the music teacher, and without a doubt awkwardly spewed out the fact that I wanted to begin an affair with a trumpet --an affair that unbeknown to me at the time, would last all through my school years. After a short conversation about playing a brass instrument, I was handed a mouthpiece, and told to practice with it for about a week. I followed the music teacher's directions --which following directions for me was fairly rare.

I was raised in a small town in upstate New York, and the local school was rather small. Available funds for the music department were probably scarce. When I was handed my new --to me-- brass instrument, I remember being quite disappointed. The horn that I was about to take possession of was a little brother to the trumpet --a coronet-- and had more dents and dings than the bumper-cars at the local amusement park. The silver "matte" finish probably boasted a shiny new surface decades before, but not that my eyes would ever see. It did resemble a horn though, and I was able to bring it to life.

I learned to play the trumpet, and enjoyed every part of the music scene. All through high-school I was in the concert band, and the marching band. I played solos at events, many in churches around the local area. I was passionate about music.

A Christmas or two after I was loaned my badly abused dull and ugly coronet, I received as a gift, a brand new two-tone brass and silver trumpet. I had the nicest trumpet in school and I remember being very proud of that horn. Thanks mom and dad! But like they say, "all good things must end someday", and upon graduation from high school, I sold my trumpet and ventured out seeking other interests.

A couple of months ago, I realized that I still had an interest in the trumpet --an interest that I had put to bed for 37 years. I tried on a couple of occasions to play my son's trumpet, which he had from his high school days, and found that although obviously pretty rusty, I still had a fairly natural ability to play. I ordered a new trumpet that week.

I'm about six weeks into practicing now, and I find that I am as passionate as ever about becoming a really good musician. The passion that I have for music tends to mirror that of which I have for the sport of running. I have considered joining or starting a band if I become as good on the horn as I plan to. I think running for the past two decades has probably increased my lung capacity and my new trumpet feels at home in my somewhat older hands.

So on the subject of blowing my own horn --yes I do-- and I'm happy to say that I'm proud of it. Will blowing my own horn make me rich and famous? I'm thinking that it probably won't, but two things are certain. First, I am having a lot of fun playing again, and second... it gave me something new to write about.

~Safe Riding~

-The Chief

Cat's in the Cradle

2011-06-20T08:15:00.004-04:00

Harry Chapin probably said it best, and as I was on my daily run today, his song was lodged in my brain, repeating the lyrics over and over. "When you coming home dad, I don't know when, but we'll get together then son, you know we'll have a good time then."

If there is one single song that speaks to the way I have felt for the past two months of my life, this one surely is it. So let me take a minute or two and explain myself. It's deep, really deep --at least to me.

First, let me acknowledge the fact that I am in a much different place in my life today, being mostly retired. I say "mostly" because although I am no longer gainfully employed, I still tend to work many hours each week, but now it's for myself and no one else. Because I have a much more relaxed lifestyle today, I have learned to truly enjoy life and all of the little things that didn't use to matter to me. The fact is however, that they do matter.

As the words of Harry's song kept repeating themselves in my mind, I thought about my current lifestyle, and about those who are most dear to me. I watch and listen daily, to the many varied events and activities taking place within my family. The song lyrics reminded me of how fast my own life has flashed by, from childhood to the retired adult body that I currently occupy.

The "Cat's In the Cradle" probably best describes my life with my sons. I've had many conversations with them over the past few years. Although they may not realize it now, nor would they admit it if they did, I see two young men who have put their lives on hold, while they work tirelessly to reap the benefits of their dreams. Being business owners, they both work an excessive number of hours each week, as if there is an extreme urgency to succeed, and to do it now.

My fear is that someday they'll look back and have regrets. Regrets that they didn't take time for themselves or more importantly, that they didn't take the time to enjoy life. I wonder at times if they know that they can never get this time back, or when they do realize it, that it will be too late. That is my fear.

My sons are not the only people in my life that I have those thoughts about. I guess I really think about this with each of my family members --those working and those who are still in school. Racing around daily, hardly ever taking the time to relax and enjoy those things that truly matter in life. Is it just me who sees this? Is it because I have experienced both sides of the spectrum, and now have the time to think about this and more clearly recognize the daily chaos that surrounds us?

There was a time in my life that I too was guilty of living life in the fast lane. At one time, early in my career, I held five positions all in separate police agencies. Working a 70-hour week was not uncommon. Today I regret the time missed while my children were young. "He learned to walk while I was away" really hits home with me now. I don't want those whom I love and care about today, to harbor these same regrets later on in their lives.

What in life is truly important? Other than Maslow's list of basic needs --food, clothing and shelter-- is anything else really that important? I've truly realized just recently that things are just that...things. Nothing more. Looking at the big picture --other than those basic needs-- everything else is of little importance. Everything that is, except for time. Our time here on earth is paramount over all else.

I've spoken about "time" in previous stories, and now once again, time rears its ugly head. But time truly is the enemy here --or so it seems to me anyway. Even though time in and of itself can't be slowed down or stopped, we can effectively manage it. It is possible to mask the onward marching of time to give your personal stopwatch the appearance that it ran somewhat slower than it really did.

On any given day, I hear the phrase, "I don't have time", both from friends and family alike. You hear it too, and without a doubt you have uttered those same words. How many times do you say that very thing? In most instances, not having the time really isn't the issue. The issue is more accurately; that you won't take the time and also that you may not be a good time manager.

A few summers ago, I was working with my sons at their company in New York. Often times, at the end of the workday --usually around five o'clock, some of us would head out for a ride on our motorcycles. Typically there was no destination in mind; we would just ride to unwind for the day. One of my sons generally would not join us, "sorry, I can't go...I've still got work to do", he would counter, day after day when we would attempt to get him to join us. After our ride, he would still be at his desk and on most occasions, work late into the night. This was a common scenario for more than one summer and it always bothered me that he wouldn't take the time to join us. "Life's too short", I would often say --but my insignificant comments would just drift off into space.

Looking back now, and thinking about this same son who has moved forward taking on a completely new adventure, I am sure he realizes --as I do, that nothing would have changed, had he taken the time to enjoy some of those rides. The end result with that company would have been the same. He was still destined to move into a new phase of his professional life. He certainly gained some business knowledge working those late hours night after night, but the trade off --at least in my mind-- wasn't worth the time lost had he chosen to enjoy a little bit of life... time that he can't recoup.

I would like to think that I have always been the type of person who takes the time to really enjoy the simple things in life. The sad reality however, is that I wasn't. But it's not too late for me and I've learned how to totally enjoy life now. I recognize that which is important --truly important, and those things in life, which are just insignificant things. What can I do to help others --those I care most about, to see life the way that I see it now? Are written words about my life and my experiences capable of changing another man's thoughts regarding how he lives his life?

I have to wonder now --as I sit here in my more calm and enjoyable world, if I am partially responsible for the hectic and often chaotic world around me. Have I created this lifestyle for my family, or is this just the way that the world has changed? Perhaps this is the way that life is supposed to be. Maybe my viewpoint about life is obscured. When it comes to life and living, is there really a best or worst category or perhaps a right or wrong way to go through life?

I don't profess to have the answers, but the words of your song, Harry, really hit me hard today. "And as I hung up the phone it occurred to me --he'd grown up just like me. My boy was just like me."

~Safe Riding~

-The Chief

Little Feet

2011-06-12T18:12:00.003-04:00

Running and kids... they go together. Think about it. Think about your life when you were a young child. Once having learned to walk, you started to run. If you can't remember back to those days, think of some other child that you may know. Running is a natural thing to children. Sadly enough however, we seem to leave the running behind as we age.

I had the pleasure of running a 5k race at the Dorchester Elementary School in Woodcliff Lake, New Jersey this weekend. Being a runner and having run races for a couple of decades now, I have learned to size up the crowd before a race. I also am very observant of many other "race" details, having directed my own five and ten kilometer races in my hometown many years ago.

This particular race was like most others in many respects, but there were a couple of differences that I observed, that I felt were worthy of today's story.

First, I noticed as soon as I arrived and made my way around the crowd of runners and spectators, that there were many children present. Many of the youngsters I observed were donning their race bib numbers in preparation for a race that would probably seem like twice the 5k distance to their pint-sized legs and feet. I love it when young people run races. It's very inspiring. I don't necessarily love it however, when a ten year old outruns me, but I still like to see them compete because --hey, I'm a good sport!

Once completing this well laid out flat and fast three-and-one-tenth mile course, I sat and watched as the other runners made it across the finish line. The number of young runners --I'm talking about those under ten years old, was unbelievable to me. What I mostly observed was the fact that they all came across the finish line smiling. They were having fun and it showed. Some of the adults were smiling too, as they finished, but all of the kids were smiling.

The other thing that I noticed about this race was just how well it was coordinated. From the registration desks and packet pick-up, to the placement of water stations and finally, the rapid posting of race results after the first runners crossed the finish line. With some humor thrown in, the announcer at the finish line did a bang-up job, calling out the runner's names over the loudspeaker, as she also encouraged everyone to give it their best for the last hundred feet or so of the race.

It's always refreshing to compete in a well organized race, and having a field of young runners helps to keep the kid in me alive and well. Running and kids... they go together.

Thank you Woodcliff Lake Education Foundation for putting on a great event!

~Safe Running~

-The Chief

The Old Pump

2011-06-06T09:07:00.009-04:00

My heart --that's what this story is about. I have a heart and it's large. I mean big, really big. Several Cardiologists and I are aware of this.

One morning in 2002 --if my memory serves correctly-- I was on my way home from working the mid-night shift in Rochester. I had decided to stop in my village for breakfast, before going home to bed.

I was sitting at the counter in the local diner, conversing with a neighbor and waiting for my order. While we were talking, a series of sharp chest pains stopped by for a visit. As the pain increased, I stood up and walked toward the door of the restaurant. Not wanting to make a scene, I walked around a little and then returned to my seat as the pain had subsided.

While I ate, I was concerned about what I had just experienced. The symptoms included pain and tightening of the chest and also a slight numbness in my arm. It was obvious to me, these were the classic signs of a heart attack. After enjoying my pancakes with lots of syrup, I went home and went to bed.

Within the next few weeks after seeing my doctor, and then the cardiologist that had been recommended, I was scheduled for a cardiac catheterization. That's the procedure where they put a nice little slit in the area of your groin, and then send this nifty little camera --attached to the end of a roto-rooter type snake-- up to your heart to kind of snoop around and see what they can see. As fun and good times go, it wasn't. Having a six foot five linebacker type of guy with a razor and shaving cream wasn't my idea of a good time either, but he trimmed me up nicely for the doctor.

My cardiologist reported back to me, as I was patiently (pun intended) waiting in the recovery room, that my arteries were really clear. He stated that I had the arteries of a man half my age. "It must be the running", he stated. But then he went on to tell me more. He told me that I had had a heart attack and that there was "universal damage" all around my heart muscle. He also stated that my heart was enlarged. Of course, I already knew that because, well... I love everyone.

In discussing my condition with the doctor, I reminded him several times that I was a runner and that I had been running for many years. I told him about my belief that runner's hearts are different than most others. After all, it's a muscle and when you exercise muscles, they tend to enlarge. He didn't buy my story and stood firm in his belief about my condition. He prescribed a host of medications that he wanted me to begin taking. He also recommended that I slow down with the running and suggested that I put on some weight. Weird.

A year or so later, I made an appointment to re-visit my doctor for a check-up. I was told that my cardiologist was no longer with the medical firm, and that he had returned to his native country. I was assigned a new cardiologist. It's interesting --when I met with my new cardiologist, she told me that after looking at my files and lab results, she didn't believe that I had had a heart attack. She somewhat agreed with my theory about running and hearts. She wasn't upset with me when I told her that I hadn't taken the prescribed medication either. I explained that I am not one to take pills and that although I had initially followed the doctor's orders for a month or two, the pills ended up being flushed soon there after. My new cardiologist gave me a clean bill of health that day.

Fast forward now if you will, to the winter of 2008. I had just returned from a RoadLoK event in El Paso with my son Eric. It was mid-week around noon, and I was driving myself to lunch. While stopped at a traffic light, an all too familiar pain returned for a visit. Again this time, I had similar feelings of tightness in the chest and a slight numbness in my left arm. The pain was so intense at one point that I stopped my Jeep in traffic, and started to exit the vehicle. Within seconds, the pain subsided and I continued on my way. Time once again to make an appointment with a cardiologist.

Having moved to the Hudson Valley from Upstate New York, I had to find a new cardiologist to try and solve the mystery of the old pump. After many appointments, which included a long series of tests, the results came in. The tests included blood work, stress tests, CT scans and more. I wondered, "Would my diagnosis be accurate this time?"

Upon entering the examination room, the doctor greeted me and quite bluntly stated, "Mr. Xavier, you have the same thing that killed John Ritter". "Thank you", was my reply. He went on to explain to me that I had an aortic aneurysm --a weakening of the aortic wall, causing a bulge-- and that it would require surgery. He told me that there was no immediate urgency, as it was not at a dangerous level yet. "You have a few years before it will need to be fixed", he stated to me. "Don't run as much in the meantime and stop racing", were his words of advice. Once again, I found myself to be questioning a professional's expertise because of my running background. "Don't you think that because I run, my aorta would naturally be larger than someone not as athletic?" His reply was simply, "no".

It was explained to me that the aneurysm would enlarge each year. Typically, according to the doctor, it would increase approximately one half centimeter each year. He stated that the only way to correct this medical issue was through surgery. "There is no medication that can fix this", he stated to me. He stated that "we" would monitor my aorta annually and watch it grow. Actually, I don't think he quite worded it that way, but that's what he meant.

Almost two years later, while seeing another doctor for an unrelated issue, we discussed my past heart history. Among other things, we had a lengthy discussion about hearts and running. Finally, I was conversing with a doctor who had an open mind about my theories on this subject! Understand that my theories are based on a lot of reading and research I have done over the past twenty years --about runners and health.

During our conversation, the good doctor offered to run the same tests for me as had been previously completed to check my aorta. I should note here, that I hadn't been back to the first cardiologist after the diagnosis of the aneurysm. Yes, I know what you're thinking. Regarding that, let me just say that it's a long story about a stubborn man.

A couple of weeks after these tests were completed; I met again with the doctor. When he came into the examining room, he spoke without hesitation, like the previous doctor who had stated that I had "the same thing that killed John Ritter". Only this time, the words I heard were, "you don't have an aneurysm, in-fact there is nothing wrong with your heart or aorta", as he handed me the lab report which confirmed his statement. He then reaffirmed to me the fact that I am a big guy with a vast running history, and having a somewhat larger heart and aorta seems to make sense. He too, gave me a clean bill of health.

I went to the gym that evening and had a great carefree workout. This truly was my first "carefree" workout in almost two years. Even though I had continued to run and race, I will admit here that my mind often thought about the possible serious consequences I was flirting with while running and competing. Normally, when an aorta ruptures, it's checkout time for the victim, or so I'm told.

The old pump has done well the past couple of years. I continue to run and I typically push myself most days while I pound the pavement. Many days, I feel like a well-oiled machine as I cruise along the pavement, mostly paying attention to time, pace and distance. It's not very often now, that I think about my heart when I run, or the fact that I had several professionals attempt to void its warranty.

I think this old pump has a lot of life left in it.

~Safe Riding and Running!~

-The Chief

My Haunted House

2011-05-26T21:06:00.005-04:00

Let me state right up front, that all of my "On the Road" tales are true stories about my life. Although I've considered experimenting with fictional stories, all past reports, including this one that I am about to write, are real accounts of events in my life.

In the early '90s, I was in the market for a new home. Having found a house that was desirable to me, both in size and price, I made an offer on a bank-repossessed home, situated on a busy highway in my hometown. The house had been vacant for more than two years, and needed some work. Being a "do it yourself" kind of guy, that was of little concern to me. The price was more than appealing.

My three children and I had been staying at my mother's home, while I worked to make our new house habitable. After a month or more of preparing the new house for occupancy, it was time to move in. I moved in first, as I was anxious to start making the house a home. There were still a few minor jobs that needed addressing, before the home would be comfortable for my family.

As long as I live, I'll never forget the first night that I stayed in my new house. I had partially furnished the house and was thrilled about spending my first night there... alone. Or was I? As best as possible, I will attempt now to describe the chain of events that took place, once in my bed in my second floor bedroom.

It was around one o'clock in the morning, when I had finally retired for the night. Within minutes of getting comfortable, and just starting to fall asleep, a strange feeling came over me. I opened my eyes to see the image of a man slowly walk across my bedroom from the far corner to the doorway, and then exit the room. I was startled.

Being the reasonable man that I am, I discounted the event as having been a dream. Although somewhat shaken, I turned over and fell asleep.

A short time later, I awoke to an indescribable feeling of someone or something pulling me out of my bed. The force was real and it was scary as hell. I felt like I had to hang on to something for fear that I would be pulled out of the bed. The feeling was so intense that I not only felt it externally --as if something was pulling on my physical body-- but also inside of me, as if an energy of some sort was attempting to completely overtake me. I spent the remainder of the night on the sofa in the living room.

The next day, the recollection of that event was still vivid. I spent the next few nights on the sofa.

Once my children joined me in our new home, the strange events, although different, continued. One morning, after a peaceful night's sleep, and upon entering the kitchen, all of the cupboards and drawers were wide open. Another event which took place during the middle of the night, involved a conversation between two people in the den. Although you couldn't see anyone or anything, the muffled sounds were obviously voices of people talking.

Even though there were many occasions where abnormal activities were witnessed in my home, the events were typically small, insignificant anomalies that I dismissed as being coincidental. Hallway lights were found to be on in the morning, which had been off during the night. Many nights, there were sounds of someone walking on the first floor, when all of us were upstairs in bed. These oddities were common, and somewhat frequent.

My children were aware that our home was "different", but we never really talked much about it. One son used to come into my bedroom fairly frequently during the night, to report that there were strange noises in his bedroom --mostly centered around his closet. My daughter mentioned on more than one occasion, that she had seen an old woman in a rocking chair, in the upstairs hallway. I think that she may have been joking about that, however.

Because none of the occurrences seemed to be threatening in anyway, I wasn't concerned about anyone's safety and I didn't feel as though we needed to vacate the home. I had my own theories about the events taking place, as I was familiar with some of the home's past history --the knowledge that my home had been built in the late 1800s-- and the realization that probably more than one person had died in the house.

In the Fall of 2000, we moved out of the house, having purchased a new home closer to my job. While my haunted house was on the market and once again vacant, two final occurrences took place that helped to confirm what I had already known.

The first event which occurred a month or so after we moved, involved one of my adult sons. He had left some of his personal belongings behind, when we first moved. He went back to the vacant house on a Thursday evening to sort through his belongings, which were in his bedroom closet. While in the bedroom bagging up his belongings, a strange presence came over him. Consequently, he left the bags in the center of the room, and left earlier than he had planned. On Friday, he returned to collect the bags and was surprised at what he found. All of his belongings had been removed from the bags, and were lined up around the perimeter of the room against the walls. Everything, that is, except for a wooden plaque bearing the image of a crucifix. The plaque was in the center of the room, apparently untouched. He gathered his belongings and quickly left the house.

A few months later that winter, I received a phone call late one evening from a friend of mine, the Police Chief from the town where my haunted house was located. He stated that he was sitting in my driveway, and a light was on in an upstairs bedroom. He was concerned, because he hadn't noticed any lights on, prior to this evening. He further stated that he had checked all of the doors, and everything was secure. He had been watching the property for me, as it was vacant. While we were talking, he told me that the light had just gone out. In describing the location of the lighted room, I was not surprised that it was in the room that my son had occupied while we lived there. I explained to the Chief that I had put a light on a timer at the house...but truthfully, I hadn't.

Did our home have intruders, or were we the intruders? Our house sold the next year.

Fact or fiction? You decide. I'm interested in your feedback!

~Safe Riding~

-The Chief

The Day I Saved Chip

2011-05-23T11:02:00.006-04:00

The day started out just like any other ordinary day. Once out of bed --a quick shower, dress and breakfast-- then out the door to enjoy a day off. I've never been one to sit inside and be idle. I don't remember what I had planned for the day, but I'm sure I had a list of "to do's" neatly packed inside of my pea sized brain.

I went out to the patio to check the pool, which was a daily routine for me. Within minutes, I was to become a hero. Yes, me...just a simple, ordinary, everyday kind of small town guy --soon to be a hero!

Chip must have fallen in the pool just moments before my arrival. It was obvious to me that he had been swimming frantically for a short period of time and was struggling to keep his head above water. It's times like this, that all of those hours of classroom training seem to pay off. I can't recall how many times I've taken CPR and First Aid classes during my career, but the numbers surely must be in the millions.

Without any further thought about my own safety, I sprang into action! Quickly, without delay, I grabbed the skimmer net and ran to the edge of the pool. Chip was in the deep end of the pool and it was now evident that his energy was waning. Time was of the essence!

Within seconds, I extended the long pole out to Chip's flailing arms. With the last bit of energy that he could muster, he grabbed onto the net and I pulled him to safety.

As he collapsed onto the concrete patio --his heart pumping like a young man's heart on his first date-- I carefully helped to dry him off while reassuring him that he would be fine. A few easy compressions on his stomach proved to expel any remaining water from his lungs. It was obvious that he was extremely grateful for my quick action to rescue him.

It took about twenty minutes before Chip was able to get up on his feet and slowly walk away. A feeling of satisfaction came over me, as he stumbled away, glancing back at me with obvious gratitude. I was thankful for being in the right place at the right time, and also for all of the training that I had taken over the years.

On this otherwise ordinary day, I became an instant hero to the chipmunk community --a sort of God, if you will. To honor my bravery and quick action, Chip and his friends filled my workbenches in the garage with gifts of nuts and twigs.

Thank you Chip!

~Safe Riding~

-The Chief

My New Honda

2011-05-21T22:03:00.003-04:00

The year was 1972, and I remember the day as if it was yesterday. I was a high school freshman, and I wasn't really into the whole "education" thing. To me, life was more about making money and having fun. Little did I know.

The day I reached my sixteenth birthday, I was camped out at the local motor vehicle department ready to take my learner's permit test. Within a few short months, I found myself with a driver's license --having passed my road test-- and my first 200 dollar car, a Chevrolet. It was an ugly car, pale yellow with a torn black vinyl roof. Painting a black stripe down either side, and adding a flame at the end didn't help to disguise its ugliness, but the radio worked!

The day that I remember as if it was yesterday, however, was the day that I bought my first motorcycle. My love for two wheels started long before that day. As a young boy, probably around the age of twelve or thirteen, I was thrilled with motors and vehicles --or practically any thing that was capable of moving from point A to point B under its own power. Someday, I'll probably write about my first motorized contraption, but not now.

Prior to the purchase of my new Honda, I had built a couple of mini-bikes, by swapping and bartering different possessions of mine
--including, but not limited to my pet raccoon that I had trained as a family pest. The mini-bikes were fun for a young and adventurous boy such as I, and they also helped to teach me about traffic laws and other rules and regulations about life and living in peaceful neighborhoods. I was well known in my town.

Many times during the winter of '72, I visited the Honda dealership in Ithaca, New York. That Spring, I went with my father to pick up my new bike, with sixteen hundred hard-earned dollars in hand. Times were different back in the seventies, and I was a young man extremely uneducated about motorcycles, driving and well, life in general. Dad and I took a two by six wood plank --you know, a motorcycle ramp-- along with us in his van to pick up my newest treasure. Tie downs? I didn't know what they were, and I didn't give any thought as to how to secure the bike for its trip home. "I guess I'll have to sit on the bike so it doesn't tip over", I said to dad, hoping no one at the dealership heard me.

Once home and unloaded, I remember rejoicing in the fact that I finally owned something new. My car, when I purchased it, was six years old and ugly. It ran and did its job, but it was ugly. My Honda was shiny and new. Uh, I need to be honest here though...it was ugly too. Apparently I didn't have very good taste in colors, when I was a much younger man. My new scoot was brown... plain ugly brown. To make matters worse, I let one of my older brothers give my new bike a test ride in our backyard, and he discovered quite quickly that front brakes and grassy surfaces don't quite go together. After his maiden voyage around our yard, my plain ugly brown Honda became a plain ugly brown Honda with a bent front turn signal. I kept my first motorcycle for a couple of years, and then traded it for a bigger, faster and not quite as ugly bike.

My ugly Honda served me well. It helped teach me the rules of the road, and also some safe driving habits. I had just one mishap on the bike, and it involved a collision with a dog. I won, but didn't feel as though I had. Actually I was fortunate, in that I kept the bike upright and I was only slightly injured. The dog didn't fair so well.

I've watched the motorcycle industry come a long way. I've learned volumes about motorcycles, riding and safety on the road. From mini-bikes, to Hondas, to Harleys --I've enjoyed them all. Times were good back then. It's been a long, fun journey, and my days of bartering with raccoons are a thing of the past.

~Safe Riding~

-The Chief

A Chip Off the Old Block

2011-05-16T20:00:00.007-04:00

When I was a young lad growing up, I was fortunate enough to have parents who believed in a strong work ethic. Their philosophy about getting things done, revolved around the fact that doing things for yourself was most often the best route to take.

Dad was a self-made man and was handy at pretty much everything. A lot of what I learned growing up came from his willingness to be a mentor to me. Probably the greatest gift however, must have been passed down genetically, even though remaining somewhat dormant for the first couple of decades of my life.

Thinking back over the years, and remembering all of the projects I have taken on and completed, is a testament to the skills that I began learning as a young adult. Throughout my life, I generally felt that if something needed to be built, rebuilt, or fixed, who better to do it than me? Thank you dad, for instilling that in me.

Recently, I decided that a new patio constructed of concrete building pavers, would be a fun and worthwhile project. The thought of laying more than 200 heavy cement blocks on top of the ground, to create the illusion of a well-designed patio, typically wouldn't pique my interest. My initial design plans revealed a wooden deck, built over an existing concrete slab. The change in plans and driving force however, was the fact that there was an obstacle --cleverly disguised as a building permit-- lurking in the shadows of my, "I want to build it now" disposition. When I make up my mind to take on a project, I'm not the type who is willing to wait. Similar to heading out the door for a run; when I'm ready to go, I'm ready to go. Simply stated, it's best not to stand in my way. Thankfully, permits are not required for those wishing to strategically place chunks of cement on the ground. Not yet anyway.

If you've never taken on a project that involved clearing and leveling 200 square feet of earth, and preparing it as a bed for cement blocks, my advice is... don't. Okay, as home improvement projects go, maybe it wasn't that difficult of a task. If nothing else, I think that I was trying to prove something to my aging self and besides, I had the best equipment that money can buy. My state of the art shovel and garden rake are second to none.

During my "do it yourself" career, I have come to realize that all of my projects normally have a happy ending. Regardless of whether or not there are issues or roadblocks during the building stage, the end result always seems to please me. By no means am I an expert on building or fixing anything, and believe me I have made many mistakes along the way. Thankfully, to the "untrained eye", small blunders that I have made while constructing my --soon to be enjoyed creations-- seem to go undetected. The life expectancy of my projects has never really concerned me either, as I have made it a habit to frequently relocate --along with keeping an unlisted phone number.

Once completed, I was pleasantly surprised with this new concrete concoction of a patio. The surprise was not about the end result being aesthetically pleasing and somewhat level, because as I stated earlier, my projects typically seem to have a happy ending. The surprise to me this time, had to do with how quickly everything seemed to come together. Within just a few days of semi-hard --I guess I'm not retired anymore-- labor, what was once just a typical backyard was now transformed into a patio paradise complete with accent lighting, mulch and shrubs.

A chip off the old block? Perhaps.

Did I chip any of the blocks? The untrained eye may never detect that. Only this DIY-er knows for sure.

~Safe Riding~

-Chief

I Never Knew

2011-05-08T00:01:00.000-04:00

I never knew when I was a child, just how hard it was to raise a family. I took a lot for granted, as children often do.

I never knew, mom, that when you bought me a new pair of sneakers, someone else in the family went without something. This was a common thing in our family because there were eight of us children, and dad --who was self-employed-- was the family's sole means of support.

I never knew that all of those times when you took me shopping, and I was a pain in the ass and cried, making a scene to get that certain toy that I had to have, that I was adding to your stress and gray hair. I didn't need those toys, and I remember that sometimes I didn't even want them.

I never knew as I was growing up and stumbling through my final years of school --not really having a direction in life-- that you would always want the best for me and never give up on me, although there were times that you surely could have.

I never knew just how proud you were of me, as I became an adult and began my career. As I started my family and my life became more jumbled, from the daily stresses of life, I chose --selfishly-- to work many hours and pay little attention to you or your needs. I have learned now, to slow down and enjoy life while also embracing those who are closest to me.

I never knew how hard it must have been for you, when dad died just days before your 50th wedding anniversary. The emptiness and feelings of loneliness that you surely harbored for many years thereafter, I will never know.

I never knew, mom, just how much you suffered in pain as you aged the last few years of your life. You were the strongest person I ever knew. I have no right to complain about minor aches and pains as I often do.

And Mom, I never knew, the last time that I took you to the hospital, that you wouldn't be coming home. You knew it and you told me, but I didn't really listen. I didn't know just how much you hurt or how sad you were, as that tear ran down your face when you asked me to take you home.

I never knew how painful those last two weeks of your life were. I didn't realize how much suffering and agony you had to endure.

I never knew, mom, how great the void would be --after you were gone-- not being able to call you or stop in for a visit, just to let you know how the kids were doing or to ask about your day.

I never knew, mom, or totally understood - but now I think I know.

Happy Mother's Day, Mom!

You were the best mother anyone could have ever wished for.

Sadly missed...

Old Dogs and Children...

2011-04-27T16:35:00.008-04:00

I've always liked kids. Some people are dog people and there are cat people too. I've never really been a fan of pets, although recently I have learned to enjoy the company of an older dog. Probably because we have a lot in common, and it has to do with aging and arthritis. We mostly connect in that way, because we understand each other.

This story is really more about children, and not about animals though. It's about the enjoyment that I get from teaching and being around people. Children are especially fun to teach. Many times during my career, I felt that I had missed my calling. I realized --sometime back in the 80s-- that I really enjoyed being a training instructor, even though there was a time during my early police career that the thought of addressing a group of trainees seemed to transform me into a trembling bundle of nerves.

I have done my share of training seminars and in-service lessons over the years. Looking back now, I think that the most enjoyable times that I had, involved training young people. Bicycle safety classes with young scouting groups bring back many fond memories.

I was recently asked by a local Kindergarten teacher to be the Mystery Reader at her school. Once I agreed, she cleverly upped the ante, and made arrangements for my reading to extend into all four Kindergarten classes. The book chosen for me to read --A Day in the Life of a Police Officer-- somehow seemed to fit. Patti was the teacher, who so cleverly planned this in-service session, that would involve 77 young and very inquisitive minds, and a man passionate about his life and recent past career.

Upon arriving at the elementary school main office, I was greeted by two young faces that provided a giggly escort --through a maze of hallways to the classroom where I would enter and make my acquaintance-- to a roomful of five year olds bubbling with energy and excitement. Shy? Not this group! "Chief, you look younger in your picture", was just one of many comments I heard, referring to a photo of me on the teacher's desk, neatly propped where perhaps an apple should be.

Sitting in front of a group of very well behaved students, I shared the author's story along with bits and pieces of my own story of a lifestyle from days gone by. I'm sure that the fun and enthusiasm I had, while addressing my classroom of intrigued learners, was readily noticeable. Once the story ended, I opened the session to questions and comments, and there were many.

"Do policeman ride cheetahs? Why do police cars make that funny loud sound? Did you ever get hurt when you were a policeman? Did you bleed?" Question after thought provoking question. Responding to questions asked by such young and innocent minds takes a lot of extra thought. The innocence of the young is one thing that I truly enjoy. Kindergarten teachers have a great job.

This in-service training did have a purposeful goal, or as I would refer to in a lesson plan, an objective. The objective of this session was to help the students learn and remember their home street addresses and the importance of knowing that information. My visit with the class also helped to show this classroom of young --learning about life-- students, that police officers are ordinary everyday moms and dads who have chosen a profession that serves the community.

After the reading and question portion of my visit, I spent some time with the class to observe their projects, which included an invitation to sit on the floor and check out a hotel constructed of building blocks, admire some art work, and view a computer work station. The visit ended all too soon, but only after I assisted in retrieving a toy phone that mysteriously ended up in a ceiling light fixture.

Kids are fun, often funny and generally possess a certain innocence that tends to slip away much too soon.

Among the many other interests that I have, I enjoy addressing groups of people and sharing my thoughts and life's experiences. Now I'm learning to share my life with my new friend "Buddy" --you know, the previously mentioned aging pooch-- who is also a good listener and knows his address too!

~Safe Riding~

-The Chief

The Meet

2011-04-12T11:02:00.006-04:00

The offer to attend a high school track meet was inviting. Considering that I hadn't been to a high school sports event in ten or more years had a certain appeal to me that I openly welcomed.

Asking that I accompany her, Patti had decided to attend the meet even though the weather was somewhat cold and rainy, which is typical for early Spring in New Jersey. The track event was being held several school districts away and her daughter Carly --a Senior and member of the team-- would be competing in several field events.

My first observation once there, was that the event was much larger than those that I had been involved in during my coaching years. There seemed to be more schools, more competitors and a larger spectator crowd. The coffee we purchased upon arrival, although it didn't deserve that label, served a much more important role which involved the transferring of heat from the cup to my already chilled to the bone fingers. A dollar well spent.

After a couple of introductions to a few of Patti's friends, I found my own small section of earth to plant my feet on, where I could observe the Shot Put, Javelin and Discus throwers, and slowly chill the rest of my normally warm Florida body.

As I stand and observe, I feel the coldness gradually working its way through my body, soul and mind -

"This is one part of the job that I really don't care for", I thought to myself as I looked around at all of the other officers. "There must be fifty departments represented here. This scene seems somehow all too familiar to me", the thoughts continued.

As the officers lined up, one row and then another, there was an ever present sense of sadness, although this was coupled with a feeling of camaraderie. As much as I truly enjoy my profession, I am aware on a daily basis, of just how disposable I am. Now, once again as I watch as a fellow officer is laid to rest, I am reminded of this fact.

My fingers and toes are so cold that they hurt. They haven't reached the point of no feeling yet, they just hurt. The late afternoon chill in the air is different than the chill that runs down my spine as the Marksmen fire their rifles in a final tribute to an officer who paid the ultimate price. But still, I stand at attention like all of the other men and women in blue. Standing at attention as the bagpipers play. Standing at attention as the rifles crack the silence. Standing at attention as the Minister speaks, and finally, as the casket is lowered below our playing field where mankind lives, where track team members compete, and where Police Officers strive daily to survive.

"Chief, get the camera ready, Carly's going to throw", Patti says, which brings me back from a time and lifestyle of years gone by. "Are you okay?" she asks, noticing my far away gaze. "Fine", is my reply --as I stand there still numb from the coldness lurking throughout my body.

Leaving the meet --as warmth and feelings begin their journey back into my extremities-- I sense a familiar calm as I thank an officer who has just stopped traffic for us to cross the street.

"Let's stop for a good cup of coffee on the way home", I offer.

~Safe Riding~

-The Chief

The Truth about Aging

2011-04-08T12:10:00.020-04:00

When I think about how fast it has all happened, it sometimes takes my breath away. No, not really. That's actually not a true statement. Let me start again.

When I think about how fast it has all happened, it makes me somewhat melancholy. There, that seems to be a more accurate statement.

Life, Living and Aging

That's what I'm talking about. Every single person reading this dissertation, has heard it before - "Enjoy life, it goes too fast" or something similar like, "enjoy your kids while they're young because they grow up so fast." We all know it, but I want to talk about it.

I think that I think too much. I think about aging. I think about my existence on this earth, and I think about the relationship of time and how it affects everyone's life. Sometimes I think that most people don't normally have these thoughts, but rather go on day after day just existing. Eating, sleeping, breathing...living. Perhaps my move to a retirement community has made me think more about it. I suppose that being around people much older than myself has somehow made me more aware of the aging process and all of those things that accompany it, both good and bad.

My son Eric and I had a lengthy conversation recently about time. He brought it up. We talk frequently about such topics because, like me, he too is a pretty deep thinker. I'm not really sure how we got on that particular topic, but we did. Even though Eric is a much younger man than I, he gets it. I believe that he realizes just how fast time goes by, and also that time seems to speed up as man slows down during the aging process.

When I was much younger, I remember hearing my parents talk about age and aging. But like many young adults, I didn't really give their words much thought. I think that a person has to experience the aging process for many years, before it all really seems to make sense. Or maybe more accurately, it makes no sense. At times to me, it just seems to be sad. We are born. We live. We die.

Don't misunderstand me. I'm not a sad individual or unhappy with life or anything that life has thrown my way. In fact, I tend to be happy most all of the time. I've been this way for many years. I've been fortunate in my life to enjoy things that matter most, but it seems that there was a lengthy learning curve to get to that point. I was the guilty party who wished many times that my children would grow up so that I could recapture my life. What was I thinking then?

Sometimes I wonder if the very essence of how I lived my life, basically searching for the perfect partner and ideal living arrangements, has somehow provoked these thoughts that now flood my mind on a fairly frequent basis. The song lyrics, "I teased at life as if it were a foolish game - I ran so fast that time and youth at last ran out" were written about me.

My lesson about life took me years to learn. I like the man that I have become, even though I am not rejoicing in the fact that it took me so many years. I like that I now take the time to appreciate the little things in life that years ago had little meaning to me. I like that I am content. I like that I have a tendency to like people. I like the calm that I now possess, even when my surroundings could easily dictate otherwise.

If I were to be given the opportunity to rewind my life and start over, I would only make a serious attempt to slow it all down. The content of my life was and still is satisfactory to me. The speed however, was much too fast. Life has been more than kind to me, and aging...well, I'm definitely aging.

I think that I think too much.

~Safe Riding~

-The Chief

Daytona Bike Week - 2011

2011-03-17T10:08:00.014-04:00

It did seem a little strange this time, heading over to Daytona Beach to take an abbreviated look at this year's event. My journey, along some winding rural central Florida back roads, meandering along the Ocala National Forest was very scenic and the weather was ideal for riding. A little chill was in the air that morning which equates to perfect temps for keeping the 96 cubic inch air cooled mill running at its finest.

On a personal side, there were two major differences at this year's Bike Week. The first I just mentioned –the fact that I rode to the event rather than flying here from 1200 miles away. Second is the point that for once, I was able to check out the scene as a spectator rather than working the event as a vendor for RoadLoK. I know that my feet appreciated the difference.

My first stop was in Ormond Beach, to pick up Eric and Jim. Good guys those two. Eric is my son so of course he's a good chap, and Jim...well, Jim is friends with Eric so that makes him a good person too. Besides, Jim knows Harleys well and he loves to ride. That makes him more than okay in the Chief's book.

So there the three of us are, cruising around Daytona Beach – I'm aboard old reliable, my 07 Street Glide – while Eric is piloting a slightly older Fat Boy. Jim – I'm still not really sure what he was riding except that I do know it was a Harley and it didn't have a front fender. I never professed to be an expert on model recognition. To me, if it looks and sounds like a Harley, chances are it's a Harley.

Our first stop was at the Daytona Speedway. Heavy traffic, bike after bike after.."wave to the nice officer!".

Looking back now, it's really ironic that I had Eric snap a quick photo of me standing by a new brightly painted Street Glide glistening in the Florida sun, at the Harley tent. I'll explain this comment later, so remember it.

We spent some time walking around the different vendor's tents and as I had stated that I would do, I checked out some of the newest motorcycle accessories to hit today's market. RoadLoKs on bikes? I saw them too, which supported my thoughts that there are some smart and security minded bikers among us.The crowd seemed about normal to me, as far as size goes, although I heard later that attendance was down. I just know that there was an abundance of bikers and besides, they say that size doesn't matter anyway.

Leaving the racetrack, we headed out for a short ride to meet up with three of the boy's friends. Lady friends. Lady biker friends. Local lady biker friends with their own motorbikes. After a quick informal introduction, the six of us enjoyed a nice lunch and some small talk after which we decided to take a ride around the loop. The loop is fun, and if you've never ridden the loop, you may want to add that to your bucket list. Where exactly it is, I can't say because I'm not that familiar with the area, but take my word, it's called the loop and it's in Florida.

Once the bikes were neatly parked, the day ended with some typical fireside chat complete with beer. That's a common scene among bikers during bike events. The chilled night air was reason enough for me to stay in Ormond Beach and cruise back home the next day. Father Time has done that to me.

A couple of days after my tour at Bike Week, I decided to pay a visit to an old friend of mine. Larry has been in the Harley business for many years. He's a great guy and fun to be friends with. He also enjoys his chosen profession and it shows. New Smyrna Beach Harley-Davidson is fortunate to have him leading the pack there. He's a good enough friend that I decided to let him have my two prized possessions – my 07 Street Glide, you know...old reliable, and my 09 Cross Bones. In exchange, he gave me a brand new Street Glide. Thanks Larry!

About that ironic photo shoot next to the Street Glide --That iron horse was posing nicely in front of the Harley tent and something about it caught my eye. In a somewhat excited state, I asked Eric to take a photo of me by the bike because well, I liked it. I'm not sure if it was the color that drew me in, or the fact that it was sporting a 103 cubic inch powerhouse but the fact was, I wanted my photo by it. When we left there, I didn't give that bike a second thought. At bike events, you see such a variety of vivid colors and fancy bikes that it's easy to forget them once you move on. It wasn't until I was riding my new Harley home, that I realized I had purchased the same model and color bike that I captured in a photo that day. Funny.

Thank you Bike Week for showing me a good time, and Larry, thanks for keeping me on the road in style!

For all of you Florida riders looking for a great deal on a new ride, stop in and see Larry at New Smyrna Harley-Davidson and tell him the Chief sent ya!

~Safe Riding~

-The Chief

Bike Week - Florida Style

2011-03-10T20:31:00.002-05:00

This year I'll be making my rounds during bike week aboard old reliable - my 07 Street Glide.

Hello biker friends, the Chief is back and once again –like so long ago– you'll be reading a road report involving bikes and a bike event!

Daytona Bike week this year is in full swing and I'll be cruising through the crowds and scoping out the scene. The main difference this year however, is the fact that I'll be riding to Daytona, rather than flying and then either borrowing or buying a new scoot. I won't be trailering a bike from New York with RoadLoK (and company) or O.C.C. either, which I've been known to do in the past.

I've enjoyed traveling to Florida for bike events over the years and the Sunshine State has done its part to capture my interest. Enough so that I decided to move here last winter, from the frozen Empire State.

That being said, I'll be heading over to the coast to enjoy some time cruising the streets, checking out the newest and coolest bikes and accessories. I'll be taking a visual count of properly secured –RoadLoK'd– motorbikes too!

Stay tuned for my report –Daytona 2011– which will hit the headlines next week!

In the meantime, as always...

~Safe Riding

The Chief

Twenty Years - The Story

2011-03-01T17:08:00.177-05:00

Unlike my typical "On the Road" stories, this will be a little more in depth. This month I celebrate twenty years of running and I would like to share my adventure with those of you interested. Enjoy!

One Spring day in the middle of March 1991, I headed out of my upstairs apartment to run one mile. I remember the day as if it were last week. My life was different then—and in many ways. I was in the ascent of my career, while my personal life reflected a world of chaos and turmoil as I had recently ended the marriage to my children's mother. Running, however, was not an attempt on my part to help me deal with that daily battle or drama—because, quite frankly, I didn't even know at that time just how beneficial running and mental wellbeing intertwined.

About a month before this day that I speak of I had purchased an exercise tape, which was being marketed as "a great way to reduce stomach fat". The VHS tape, if my memory serves correctly, was titled: Seven Minutes to a Flatter Stomach. "Hell, anyone can do a seven minute workout", I thought to myself as I left the store toting my ten-dollar miracle fix. Although I had always carried my weight fairly well, it was common for any excess baggage to neatly (or maybe not so neatly) attach itself to my waistline. I wanted it gone, and I was willing at that time to invest anything to help it along its journey on a disappearing act.

The next morning found me perched in front of my television, on the living room floor, donning my newly purchased K-Mart sneakers, sweatpants, and tee shirt. I was ready for some serious business and nothing would stop me. Remote control in hand, I started the reels spinning. As my new training partner made her introduction to me I couldn't help but notice how attractive and fit that she was. I especially liked her choice of gym clothes. "Video Trainer Lady, I'll gladly do this seven-minute workout with you." And so began our relationship—crunch after crunch after excruciating crunch. I did great! Now if I can just make it through the last six minutes", I remember thinking as I crawled to the couch for a nap.

My affair with my VTL (video trainer lady) lasted about one month. That's how long it took me to finally get through the complete seven-minute ass kicking that she attempted to give me daily. This was truly a love-hate relationship—and I mostly hated her. It was on that historic day that I decided—after the workout—to go out and run one mile, and see how long it would take—and also to see how I felt after the fact.

My feeble attempt to run just one single mile was a real eyeopener for me. That, above and beyond anything else, is probably the main reason that I have stayed with it. I remember the walk back home from my first attempt at that silly mile. The walk, although very short as I had only traversed about two village blocks, found me with my head down, muttering obscenities all the way. I couldn't believe that I was not healthy or strong enough to run one mile, plain and simple. It had been just ten years prior that I was running two miles daily in the police academy. What the hell happened to me?

I'm a determined man. I was then, and I am now. Daily, I found myself lacing up those high-tech K-Mart sneakers and heading out the door. With each and every attempt, I tried to make it just a little farther down the road to my measured mile mark. Eleven days, in answer to your question "how long did it take to run one mile non-stop?". Daily, after those first eleven days, I would run to the mile point and then walk home. Shortly after, I started running back toward home until I could run two miles. There is no secret formula—that's how it began.

About three weeks in, when I realized that I was going to make running a daily part of my life, I knew that it was time to upgrade my running shoes. Knowing very little about the sport of running, I once again went back to K-Mart. When I saw a really neat pair of basketball shoes, I made the purchase. I thought that the high-tops would give me added ankle support, and be a great running shoe. Besides, these shoes were close to $30, so they must be good. I wore them once. The day I threw them out was the same day that I threw out my bloodied socks. The high-tops wore the skin off of my ankles during my inaugural run with them. I had a lot to learn about the sport of running.

Walking into The Foot Locker at the local mall the next day, I was greeted by a young man asking if he could be of assistance. Chest puffed out and proud as could be, I declared, "I am a runner! What's the best running shoe for me?". "Asics makes a good running shoe. Let me get you a pair and see if you like them", was his reply. Thus began my second love affair in the running arena—with the shoes, not the salesman. I've worn nothing but Asics ever since.

So here I am twenty years later, still running the roads. As I was running my usual five miler this morning, in the hot Florida sun, I was thinking about my years on the road and about this story. Running has been extremely good to me. It has helped me through: two failed marriages, raising three children, my law enforcement career, a diagnosis of rheumatoid arthritis, and a misdiagnosis of an aortic aneurysm—on top of all the bad things that life tends to throw our way.

I have logged thousands of miles running the roads. One year alone in the early nineties, I logged-in over 1,500 miles. I lost 45 pounds the first three months of running. This I remember well, because at the time my daughter weighed 45 pounds—and I remember thinking that I basically had lost enough weight to equal a human being. I lost so much weight at one point that some of my friends worried about my health and my certain demise if I kept running. Now looking back at photos from that time, I understand their concern.

I have run hundreds of races—everything from one-mile distances, to the grueling 26.2-mile marathon. I've managed to break the ribbon at seven local races, and took the gold in my age group at hundreds more. One year I received the Runner of the Year award from the Greater Rochester Track Club. I believe that one of my very best performances, however, was achieved at the annual Utica Boilermaker 15k Road Race. That year I was determined to traverse those nine-and-three-tenths miles in under one hour; I did just that. I beat the clock by four seconds, which placed me in the top 300 runners—out of a field of 9,000.

I share this information not to boast of my performance—but rather as a testament of what one average man can accomplish when he puts his heart and soul into something he believes in. Understand: I was a late bloomer, having started running when I was 34 years old.

I was fortunate enough to coach the cross-country team at my own high school in the late nineties. For four years I not only enjoyed the time spent with many high school students—both on the track and on the road during our daily runs—but I was also able to share stories with the teens regarding my professional career. Instilling in young adults that making good choices and doing what is best are key ingredients for a great lifestyle. This was just one small segment of coaching that I truly enjoyed.

In honor of my twenty years on the road, I ask that each of you take part in my celebration this month. Help celebrate me by celebrating you. Take just one day during March and go outside for a walk, slow jog, or run. Pay no attention to distance or time—but rather, observe your surroundings. The world truly is a beautiful place when you take the time to notice it. Running is a great way to be at one with nature! When you have finished this assignment raise a glass to good health, good friends, and a new beginning!

Oh... by the way, remember the main reason I started to exercise? You know—the excess baggage residing in my mid region... Let me just say that—although he's substantially smaller—he has bummed a ride with me for these past twenty years, enjoying each and every mile and every race. We've decided to be friends.

-Safe Riding, err... Safe Running-

~The Chief

Southern Hospitality

2011-02-22T19:07:00.001-05:00

I think I would like to write about my recent move to Florida. Yes, that's it - a short story about the new land I now call home - Lake County, situated in the heart of Florida.

Being a true Floridian now, having lived here for almost three months, I have formed many opinions about the people here, the weather and an assortment of miscellaneous topics. I should mention now - the title of this story has no relevance, and it doesn't matter.

I'll begin with the weather, as that has probably been the most common daily thought I have had. If ever there was the perfect winter to move south from the Empire State, this was surely the one. Daily, as I hear reports about the sub-freezing weather coupled with the ever piling up snowfalls of the north, I rejoice in the fact that I am able to leave my home daily, sporting nothing but shorts and tee shirt, sunglasses and suntan oil. As I sit here with the mercury nicely hanging around that eighty mark, I can't help but think of just how much I miss warming the car and clearing the driveway before I head out to purchase melting crystals and hot chocolate. Yes, I tend to be sarcastic.

My neighborhood is wonderful. Old people are a very interesting breed of humanoids. Full of stories from yesteryear along with generally laid back and pleasing dispositions. This to me, is essential in that it helps me deal with the fact that most of them are somewhat challenged when attempting to operate vehicles and golf carts. "Scary" is probably a fairly accurate description of the driving that I witness daily. In the event of my untimely demise, just assume that I was run over while running or biking, by a legally blind motor vehicle operator, with a good disposition and a walker.

Florida has weird creatures! Okay, so I'm not really a bug and reptile kind of guy. That doesn't necessarily make me bad. Hell, I've just recently learned to start liking dogs. My first few weeks here found me becoming up close and personal with the large, juicy, fast and disgusting Palmetto bug. You don't need to tell me that I'm a few hundred sizes larger, it doesn't matter. These creatures -in a word- are fast! Perhaps if I didn't think about them possibly taking up residence in my mouth while I sleep at night, I may be better apt to deal with them. They seek water. My mouth, while I sleep could be viewed as a water fountain to them, plain and simple. Enough said.

Snakes and lizards also abound here. Geckos are pretty neat actually. Each month when my insurance bill is due, this funny little gecko magically appears on my kitchen window screen and watches me enjoy my morning coffee as if to remind me that I really need my insurance here, more than ever before. Can you figure out which company I insure with? Geckos are fun and fast but unlike their palmetto playmates, they aren't disgusting.

Finally, I would like to comment on the terrain. I was told prior to moving here, that I would miss running on challenging routes, due to the lack of hills. News flash - Florida does have hills! All right, so maybe this is not like the Adirondacks or the Catskills, but Florida is not entirely flat. The central Florida area that I now call home, offers some notable changes in elevation. Enough to make this aging body work fairly hard during my daily run. Rest assured, if you see me sweating profusely after a workout, it's either because of the hilly course I just ran, or an all out scramble to avoid becoming road-kill by my golf cart wielding neighbors. I wonder if golf carts can be considered deadly weapons in Florida?

Was my relocation to the Sunshine State a good choice? You betcha!

-Safe Riding

~The Chief~

The Visit

2010-11-24T12:09:00.016-05:00

I hadn't seen my father in quite a few years. You know the story, we're a busy society. Life is hectic and we tend to get caught up in the day-to-day grind and somehow, life seems to slip by. For me, time seems to go by much faster as I get older. Perhaps it's not just me. Maybe that's just the way life is meant to be.

Dad was a special kind of man. Firm in his beliefs about life, family and running his own business. He never mixed politics and religion in his world of radio and television repair. He mentioned to me on more than one occasion that these were two topics that a self-employed businessman should always avoid.

His visit was a surprise to me. Trying my best to bring my dad up to speed, as they say, about today's technology was somewhat difficult and after our visit, I realized that I hadn't even scratched the surface. Dad retired from his career in 1989. Twenty plus years is a long time for electronics technology to advance.

During our visit, I showed him photos on my BlackBerry of Eric, Adam and Kristin. "What's a blackberry?" he asked. His facial expression spoke volumes about his disbelief that photos could be taken and displayed on a phone. He was totally amazed at today's technology of texting, iPods and navigation systems. What caught his interest more however, was the fact that his grandchildren had grown into such wonderful adults.

Dad spoke about the radio and television business that he started in the late thirties and the fact that television was in its infancy. He described --as he sat and looked at my fifty-inch plasma t.v.-- what television first looked like and how simple but complex the idea of putting motion and sound into a box really was back then. Even though at first, he appeared amazed at the huge screen on my television, there was also a hint of sadness in his eyes. I felt that it may have been simply that he was overwhelmed with how advanced the electronics field has become.

My father spent the majority of his life performing his magic inside of televisions. From the time the television became a commonality in most people's homes, until May of '89, when it was decided that he would retire, his life revolved around repairs. He kept notes on all of his customer's radios and televisions, and often his writings were in French. He loved his work and his customers loved him. He was a man of great respect and he earned that respect everyday.

Like many things in life, the visit ended too soon. Just before leaving though, dad stopped in to meet Patti and acknowledge his acceptance to her as my new partner in life. As he sat at her table, in his own way he simply let her know that everything was fine.

Dad, thanks for taking the time to stop and see us. We all knew that you were tired and needed to retire from your long and sometimes never ending days in the shop and on the road making house calls. Your timing --although a struggle for us-- seems now to have made sense. As advanced as electronics technology is today, it has become a disposable industry. The days of "repairmen" have come to pass. Life is too busy and people are too impatient. Rest well, and know that you touched many people's lives.

Maurice L. Xavier 06/30/13 - 05/16/89 Reposer en Paix

~Safe Riding~

-The Chief

Leaving Home

2010-11-16T20:13:00.005-05:00

The flight out was no more than an average flight, and flying to Orlando is nothing new to me. Typically my ground trip once on land in Florida finds me heading east to the Daytona area and usually for a motorcycle event. But not this time. This trip was for a totally different reason, and because it would possibly be a lifestyle changing event for me, I was accompanied by the woman who fairly recently jumped head first into my life and seems to have her head a little more securely attached to her shoulders than I do.

Patti --as I affectionately call her because well, that's her name-- and I have spoken often and at length about the advantages of living in Florida. Our conversation at thirty seven thousand feet included a re-visit of the list of pluses for moving to a warmer climate. Patti was on a mission on this trip however. Her mission, which was disguised as a visit to see her mom, was to show me around the "Villages" which are in the central Florida area. A location that she is more than familiar with, and felt that I would be attracted to.

Our first day in the Villages left me speechless. Actually, my first two hours there left me at a loss for words. Understand that I have traveled to a lot of nice places around this nation, and I have seen many areas that appeal to me. What I haven't seen before of such great magnitude though, is an area devoted solely to the older generation. A community of what some might refer to as retired folk. A retirement community - but not really.

Okay, so I guess if I try and mask what the Villages may appear to be to the younger generation by simply attaching a different title, will if nothing else, make me feel better. But my feelings are really what this is all about anyway. I'm not moving to a retirement community - "God's waiting room" - as my friend Matt so cleverly refers to Florida as. The Villages appear to me to be so much more than that.

What my eyes observed was a fun and exciting playground for kids my age and older. A runner's and Harley rider's paradise. A place on this earth where winter jackets, extra blankets, high heating bills and scraping ice from windshields doesn't really exist. A playground that includes more recreation centers, pools, golf courses and restaurants than a man could ever hope for, all placed neatly in the center of the Sunshine State. Nightly live entertainment in two different town squares and ninety nine cent beer had nothing to do with my excitement for this place that I want to call home.

Upon our return trip to the much colder north east, and after several more conversations with Patti regarding a possible move, the decision was made. My belongings and I will be making a road trip. As stated in my last report, my Harleys will love my decision. This will be the first winter in my fifty odd years on this planet, that I won't be putting outdoor running, motorcycle riding and lawn furniture on ice for five months (pun intended).

Retirement community? Perhaps --but I'll breathe life into my new neighborhood. Get ready Florida, here I come!

~Safe Riding~

-The Chief

If I were President (A Rant)

2010-11-16T13:53:00.012-05:00

Let me state right up front that this is not an Obama bashing. I for one, would never write about politics and my views regarding this great nation of ours and its leaders.

Instead, I will take a few minutes out of my hectic schedule of sitting here on a cold and rainy day thinking about things to do, and go off on a rant about three things in my life that totally disgust me. Three little concerns that I have a hard time dealing with mentally and that I have found to irritate me enough that I tend to spew out nastiness to anyone around me when I witness these horrible plagues on our society.

My title - If I were President - I chose because if I did in-fact have the power and or authority to help and correct these three atrocities in life, I surely would.

First, I would enact a federal law that would give everyone the absolute right to use deadly physical force to prevent or terminate left lane drivers. Actually, it wouldn't be a "right". My legislation would "command" the use of force to help and remove these mouth-breathers from the nation's highways. The justification is obvious. If a motor vehicle operator is piloting a motor vehicle on the highway and is constantly being overtaken by vehicles in the right lane while they continually tie up the left lane, they should be taken out of their misery. Left lane disease is fatal anyway and is easily recognized by two other symptoms which include the operator's hands being firmly placed at ten and two on the steering wheel, along with their gaping open mouths and blank stare. This will also aid in population control.

Second, I would form a committee whose primary focus would be to locate a manufacturer that could produce a new type of shopping cart that would deliver around fifty thousand volts directly to the unsuspecting shopper -also probably a mouth breather - who upon unloading their cart, is too lazy to return it to the sidewalk or cart tender. This earth has no more room for lazy people, than it does for left lane drivers - period. I would totally enjoy sitting in Dunkin Donuts® each morning and watch shoppers dropping like flies in the parking lot as their empty cart rolls into an innocent person's vehicle. Now that I think about it, I get to watch that everyday anyway. Lazy!

Third and thankfully last, I would also enact a law that absolutely prohibits the playing of christmas music in stores months before the event. Now for all of you "I love the holidays" type people, I would simply encourage you to get a life. Christmas no doubt is a fun and festive time of year - but it doesn't happen in October or November! When I walk into a store three weeks before Thanksgiving and have to hear "deck the halls" on the radio...well it just isn't right and besides that, it distracts me from picking out a really nice Valentine's card. Violations for this absurdity would not constitute the death penalty although a stiff fine would be in order along with weekends in the local jail, complete with twangy country music piped in.

Well, I feel much better now. You can surely see that if I were president, the world would be a much nicer place. Please remember to vote and don't forget me in the next election!

~Safe Riding~

- The Chief

Autumn Leaves

2010-10-28T18:32:00.032-04:00

It's funny - I've lived my whole life in New York and now I am considering a move to a warmer climate. I know, I've talked about hating the cold winters of New York for the past several years, but now I think I am finally of the right mindset to actually make the move.

New York has been a good home to me. Without any doubt, there probably aren't many states in this vast nation of ours that have more scenic or enjoyable areas to visit or call home. I've been fortunate enough to live in several different locations throughout the state and although the Hudson Valley - where I currently park my car - is exemplary in boasting vivid and varied sights all along the Hudson, tends to come with a hefty price tag.

I'll save the drama here and rather than go into a long and rather boring dissertation regarding my thoughts on exactly why it costs so much to live forty five minutes north of the city - you know... the one they call "The Big Apple" - I'll just say that the area is damned expensive.

The cost of living in New York is not what this story is about though. I want to talk here about the weather. New York does have weather. On the surface, the fact that New York offers up four distinct seasons could be an attractive attribute to the great Empire State. Had I been the one to design New York however, I think I may have limited that number to three. Three seasons seem to be more than adequate.

It's Autumn in New York right now and although the landscape is ablaze with an amazing spectrum of colors, I can't help but think - as I exit my condo via the garage, walking past an array of motorcycles and a pair of cross country skis - about the weather that we will soon be dealing with.

Yes, I did say "cross country skis". You see, several years ago when I first realized that I pretty much detested cold and blustery bone chilling weather, I had an idea on how to deal with it. I remembered a time in my life when I actually enjoyed winter and I also remembered why I enjoyed the snow, the ice and the cold. Fun was the reason. Simply stated, winter was fun. We made it fun by various means like sledding, snowmobiling and sculpting forts and castles out of the massive piles of snow that fell from the sky during some of the worst storms of the sixties and seventies.

The cross country skis in my garage now symbolize my feeble attempt at bringing back the fun into winter. It worked, but only for a few short years. Skiing was fun but it had its limits. Fun that has seemed to fade away, as this aging man does what most aging men do - age. A man set in his ways to spend the remainder of his years with water evaporating off of his body from sweat and swimming pools, rather than from melting ice and snow.

So with that in mind, I venture out looking at homes in warmer climates along the east coast. My skis will surely dislike my decision but truthfully, my aging bones and motorcycles will love me for it. Where I'll end up is a mystery to me at this point but one thing is certain - the time has come to move on.

~safe riding~

- The Chief

Butterfly Kisses

2010-10-14T17:55:00.013-04:00

Next March I will be celebrating twenty years of running and racing. It's hard to imagine sometimes, when I think back to my earliest days of hitting the streets to help tone my body and mind, that my littlest of offspring was only six years old.

Kristin, my third born, used to accompany me at many races as my personal cheerleader and as the years marched on – while she was growing into a beautiful woman – enjoyed some of her own running and competing on the Cross Country team that I coached. Ah, those were the days!

Fast forward now if you will, from those days of Kristin's childhood and the days of “yours truly” bringing home the gold from race after race, to present day. The date – October 10th, The place – The Little White Wedding Chapel, Las Vegas, Nevada.

Many thoughts raced through my mind on the flight out west to meet up with my soon to be son-in-law and my daughter. Thoughts and memories, memories and thoughts. Where did the years go? Will he treat her as well as I expect that he should? Why wouldn't airport security let me bring my gun collection to show her soon to be husband? Many thoughts...

One thing that I have to say about Kristin and her adult years – simply put, she makes good decisions. Upon arrival at the airport, I was greeted by “Manny” whom in two days, would take the title of “son-in-law”. Not only was I instantly impressed with Manny, but I also realized that he followed Kristin's orders to pick me up and without delay. Men are funny animals. We do exactly what we are told without question, when we are in love. I know this first hand.

The wedding turned out to be a truly wonderful experience. The rehearsal dinner, wedding and the reception following were all very nicely managed. Walking Kristin down the aisle was fun. I know, most fathers would probably use a different descriptor than “fun”, but it was fun!

Kristin, as much as you have been my cheerleader for a great part of my life, I want you to know that on your wedding day, I was your cheerleader. You and Manny make a really nice couple and although we are miles apart, I'll always be in the background cheering you both on.

~Safe Riding~

-The Chief

Running Out of Time

2010-09-22T21:06:00.010-04:00

Running and time. They simply go together, at least for many of us. I could probably count the number of times on one hand. The number of times that is, that I didn't wear a watch during a run to aid me in converting "time" into "pace". Time to me, is a very interesting and thought provoking phenomenon.

For the past nineteen years that I have been running and racing, time has been of utmost importance to me. Looking back now, I realize that I had put way too much emphasis on such a trivial thing. After all, did it really matter where I placed in a race? Was there really a necessity to constantly bore my friends with explicit racing and running details as to just how fast I traversed a pre-determined distance? My guess is - probably not. Time back then was only important to "me" and truthfully, I never really got it. It just didn't matter to anyone else. End of story. Well, perhaps not.

The minutes and seconds that I was so often concerned about, have played a little trick on me. The trick is - all added up, those minutes and seconds have aged me. Aged me horribly. Okay, so maybe in years on this earth I am not that old. But time (there's that dirty little word again) and heredity I suppose, have greatly affected my running times.

We need to go back in time to just one year ago. Like now, it was the end of summer. Fall is a great time for running in New York. It offers some of the best scenery, coupled with very manageable temperatures. But last Fall was different for me. It was a time that I noticed that it was becoming more and more painful to get out of bed in the morning. Sore joints and muscles in the evenings followed by excruciating pain in the morning. Within in a few short weeks of the onset of this joint soreness, I found that I was unable to dress myself one morning. Tying my shoes, which I've done most of my life, was now impossible. In fact, I couldn't even reach my phone to call for help.

By mid winter, after numerous doctor visits and blood tests, I was diagnosed first with Rheumatoid Arthritis - an auto-immune disease - and then Lupus. Auto-immune diseases are funny. Not laughable funny, stupid funny. There's a difference. Some days, I felt pretty good and walked like I was well. Other days, without notice, I walked and felt like a ninety two year old man. My running was more or less on hold. I hated the world last winter. I was on numerous medications then, and more than hating the world last winter, I hated ingesting toxic chemicals into my otherwise drug free fifty year old body.

Warm weather appears to be my best friend. I enjoyed a summer filled with running this year. My times - not so good - as in past years. What I enjoyed mostly, was a summer full of pain free and pill free running. That was a gift. A gift that I felt was here to stay. Managing a disease with exercise worked for me - as I had slowly detoxed my body in early spring from the harsh chemicals that I was assured that I needed.

Now however,with the onset of colder weather, I know that my days of pain free running are slowly fading away. I feel it daily. It's inevitable and I'm thinking I'll be slipping once again into that all too familiar pain. My splits have been slowly deteriorating again, and without much doubt, I probably appear to the coherant motorist - you know, the driver who is driving rather than texting or talking - as simply a little old man hobbling along the roadside. But to me, in my mind and my world of running, I'm still the King of the Road.

~Safe Riding~

-The Chief

'Tooling' to O'Toole's

2009-03-13T13:10:00.012-04:00

Typically, you won’t find the Chief riding in near freezing temperatures these days.
There are however, exceptions to that rule. A common exception would include having an opportunity to promote the RoadLoK system and knowing that an enthusiastic group of Harley enthusiasts awaits a demonstration.

O’Toole’s is a neatly placed Harley-Davidson Dealership nestled in the foothills of the Catskill Mountains. When the call came in from Tom – aka "Digs" –expressing an interest in seeing just exactly what the RoadLoK was all about, the thought of riding to his dealership to demo the RoadLoK System greatly outweighed the fact that the mercury in the glass was stuck on thirty four.

A phone conversation earlier in the day to my friend Eric, at American Bagger Magazine – regarding the fact that I was heading out for a cold ride –prompted a suggestion from him, “wear a full face helmet.” Thanks Eric, it helped!

Upon arriving at O’Toole’s and meeting with Tom -my RoadLoK Sales Partner Steve and I briefed him on everything from the birth of the RoadLoK, to a proposal or two on becoming directly involved in our effort to promote motorcycle security nationwide.

Our meeting changed locales from the comfort and warmth of Tom’s office, to the chilled parking lot before my fingers had the opportunity to regain total feeling and use. It was here, that I did what I believe that I do best –talk.

The Parts , Service and Sales staff at O’Toole’s watched patiently as I showed off the RoadLoK and all of its finer points. Impressed? I believe that they were. So much so, that they asked me to leave my Harley with them for another day so that they could really check it out. Uh, well…actually I asked them if they would mind doing the ten thousand mile service for me. “Gladly” was the reply.

O’Toole’s is another outstanding Harley-Davidson dealership that RoadLoK Security has had the pleasure of visiting. Thanks Tom --two thumbs up!

~Safe Riding~

-The Chief

Winter Break

2009-02-15T14:53:00.013-05:00

Being involved in the motorcycle industry in New York has its down side.
In a word–winter.

Getting a break now and then from Mother Nature typically seems like a nice treat, although as most of us native to the area realize, it’s a treat with a price. The price of course being the cold and snowy weather that surely follows before spring actually arrives.

A few days ago it was 68 awesome degrees in the Allentown, PA area. I know. I was there.

The RoadLoK Crew made a visit to a local motorcycle dealership – Blackman’s Cycle Center. It was there that the Chief got his first taste of a different kind of ride. When I first saw the Can-Am Spyder sitting on the walkway in front of Blackman's, it captured my attention. I had seen the Spyder before, but never really up-close and personal. It was uniquely different and offered an inviting ride.

Our meeting at the Yamaha, Honda and Suzuki Dealership was time well spent. Steve, whom heads up the dealership along with some of his staff, watched as we bolted up the new Arachnid xR prototype to several of their showroom bikes. Like all of our products, the installation was simple and the RoadLoK performed well. Nothing unusual about it, that’s how we roll!

Just prior to leaving Blackman’s, the offer came in, “Chief, you gonna ride the Spyder?”

“But of course!”

Thank you Steve and partner Zim, for the hospitality. You have one fine dealership that you can be proud of!

~Safe Riding~

-The Chief

Field Testers Wanted

2009-01-13T16:18:00.006-05:00

Hey all of you biker types, check this out! RoadLoK is looking for Field Testers for our newest of products - The Arachnid xR. We have prototypes to ship out all across the United States. We are seeking bikers to spend about six weeks testing this newest addition to our fleet of top notch motorcycle security systems.

The Arachnid xR is a bolt-on unit which will fit any sportbike that utilizes radial mount front brake calipers with 108mm bolt spacing. The install is simple and the testing period requires that you keep in touch with yours truly -The Chief- and report to me very interesting things like ease of installation, ease of use, where the best looking ladies hang out etc. Ok, so maybe not all of the aforementioned criteria, but certainly those related to motorcycles and security.

To apply, simply check out our site, www.roadlok.com and fill out an on-line Field Testers Application. I'll weed through all of the entries and choose those best suited for this awesome project. Remember to keep two things in mind: First - make sure you have a bike that is listed on the site, otherwise you can't test it very well for us. Second - if you live where the snow is covering the highway and the temperatures have a hard time reaching above the freezing mark, you probably won't be much help to us.

As always -

~Safe Riding~

The Chief

"The Pass of the North"

2008-12-04T12:20:00.006-05:00

During the mid 1500s, an expedition of Spanish explorers saw on their approach from the Rio Grande, two mountain ranges rising from the desert with a deep chasm between. They named the site “El Paso del Norte” or “the Pass of the North”.

Population of the El Paso area grew when the Pueblo Indian Revolt of 1680 sent Spanish colonists southward in search of safety. By the middle of the eighteenth century, approximately 5000 people populated the El Paso area. Among them were Spaniards, Indians and Harley Enthusiasts.

Okay, so I may have deviated from the facts slightly. However, the reality of today is that there is in-fact a good share of Harley Enthusiasts in El Paso. This I know because of our recent expedition to this vast land rich with history.

Upon my first contact with Mark Barnett, Manager of Barnett Harley-Davidson and Publisher of Barnett’s Magazine--regarding our interest in holding a RoadLoK event--he was more than willing to host an event at his location. Flyers were mailed and banners were ordered and shipped along with an ample supply of RoadLoK Defenders for his “weekend after Thanksgiving” event.

Without a doubt, the thing I enjoy most these days is traveling to Harley Dealerships and meeting people. Mark runs a tight ship! His staff is pleasant to deal with and his customers are plentiful. RoadLoK received a warm welcoming as indicated on Barnett’s marquee, which was visible to passersby along the nearby interstate.

The RoadLoK Defender was a hit with Barnett’s customers. Positive feedback always accompanies RoadLoK demonstrations! Our business trip to El Paso was a great experience and many local Harley riders now will enjoy the feeling of having the best protection available on their bikes.

Oh, one other thing: Texas does truly have the best steaks around. Thanks George!

Visit Barnett Harley-Davidson when you are in the area and be sure to check out the RoadLoK give-away in the December issue of Barnett’s Magazine!

~Safe Riding~

-The Chief

Flying High with the Chief

2008-12-03T12:48:00.010-05:00

Typically, my road reports are about riding on two wheels here and there with a little bit of humor spread throughout.

There are times when traveling for our company requires just a little more speed than bikes or company trucks and trailers are capable of. Rest assured however, that when the Chief makes it to point B, seeking out a two-wheeled scoot to ride, is never too difficult.

October 10th found our gang traveling at roughly 525 mph and at an altitude of about 38,000 feet.
Our Destination? - Daytona! The average time in the air from Orange County New York to Orlando International is just under three hours. Three hours which were swiftly erased by making friends with Dan. Dan was heading back home to Orlando and just happened to be a Harley owner and rider. That is all it takes in this business to make friends. Simple - you have a bike - you are my friend.

Having landed safely, the RoadLoK crew arrives at Bruce Rossmeyer's Daytona Harley-Davidson. The purpose of which, was for installation of our locking systems on Mr. Rossmeyer's inventory of bikes and to train his staff on our product. Though there may have been some initial skepticism by the staff, once we made our presence and product known to his crew it was a positive experience from that point on.

Would you care to wager a guess as to how many RoadLoK Defenders the Chief can install in one day? An easier question that I could propose to you may be regarding the hardness of the tile floors in Rossmeyer's dealership. My half-century-old knees can attest to this fact quite accurately.

With our mission accomplished of the initial installation of Defenders on new Harleys, making them ready for purchase by unsuspecting Biketoberfest customers - the Chief included in this list - our crew headed back to New York. But not before yours truly having sealed the deal on a new Cross Bones, to make his Florida visit just a little more enjoyable!

Flying is a major thrill for me. I love the window seats. I always get the window seat on my Harley. In my mind, flying and riding go hand in hand. Obvious differences - some similarities.

Care to get an awesome deal on a new Harley? Might I suggest a trip to Rossmeyer's Daytona Harley-Davidson. One fine dealership with a really great staff. Thanks Rossmeyer's for your support and dedication to RoadLoK!

~Safe Riding~

-The Chief

Summer Slowly Fading Away

2008-09-05T12:03:00.008-04:00

Weather in New York is like an artist’s pallet of varied and vivid colors. Having lived here my entire life, I have come to accept it for what it is, and nothing more. I have often been heard to say that when I truly retire, it will be to a warmer climate. As the riding season comes to a hopefully seriously slow ending, I will take this time to reflect on the 2008-riding season.

The majority of my road trips were focused in the Hudson Valley area this year. To this day, I remain astounded over such beauty of the mountains and valleys coupled with the remarkable highways winding in and around them. Most of my road trips this season were somewhat shorter than past summers. There was no particular reason for this; it is just the way it turned out.

As each season slowly comes to an end, I like also to acknowledge that I am thankful for having an incident free year of riding. Typically not being the superstitious type, I have little concern that commenting on this will somehow change my luck. The Guardian Bell on my Harley keeps me safe!

Our Company - RoadLoK - has enjoyed a respectable year business wise. Knowing that we have helped many bikers to secure their prized possessions and hopefully sleep better at night, gives me a good feeling of accomplishment. I mostly enjoy our customer’s feedback, which is always positive. Our products are awesome – our customer service outstanding!

~Safe Riding~

-The Chief

Spread your Wings Little Butterfly

2008-08-04T16:52:00.024-04:00

It was a year or so ago that Buffy first mentioned that she really liked my Yamaha 600 sport-bike. Many conversations followed about that bike and about just how much she liked it. So --being the father that I am-- I mentioned that if she were ever to get her motorcycle endorsement, the bike would be hers.

One thing I have learned over the years about my three offspring is that I should never encourage actions such as this, because my children are kind of like me. When they get an idea or take an interest in something, they always follow through, and typically with great enthusiasm.

So when Kristin --aka Buffy-- called me a month ago and excitedly spilled out the words, “Dad, I got my motorcycle license” I was not surprised. "Awesome job" I told her, as she quickly reminded me of the promise I had made about my bike. Giving up the bike didn’t concern me as much as the new list of concerns that entered my mind once I realized that my girl would now join the ranks of a Biker.

After coming here a month ago from her Navy based Virginia Beach home, and taking a couple of riding lessons on the 600, the deal was finalized. The bike fit her --or better still-- she fit the bike, and dad would deliver it to her doorstep.

Trailering her bike last week from New York to Virginia was uneventful. Yes, I did say trailering. I know what you’re thinking and yes, I am. Please allow me to justify my actions. Had I ridden that scoot for 8 hours straight, you surely wouldn’t be reading this report today and possibly not for a month or more.

The excitement and look on Buffy’s face when we unloaded her newly prized possession made everything about the deal worthwhile. After a quick "in service" on keeping the bike in top condition, I was headed back to New York.

To my daughter – Spread your wings little butterfly – be safe and never forget the basics. Enjoy the ride but be careful. Always be defensive and ride with the thought that no one sees you because many do not.

The Chief without a crotch-rocket? Not a chance. I bought a new Yamaha R1 within hours of Buffy passing her test!

~Safe Riding~

-The Chief

First Impressions and Expensive Wine

2008-07-28T14:03:00.019-04:00

I already know what you are thinking - “What does this story have to do with the sport of motorcycles and hard-core biking?” "Nothing really" - is my response. You have to understand something plain and simple about me. I like writing about anything and everything, not just about motorcycles and bike events.

So, for those of you whom are hard-core only, move along and wait for my next road report. And for those of you who enjoy reading any of my whimsical nonsense about daily life, follow along as I attempt to make this somewhat relative to our love for motorcycles.

Let’s go back to the Spring of 2006. Back to a time when the Chief was “The Chief” and when riding came second in his busy but exciting lifestyle.

Having always been somewhat self conscious about my smile, I decided one evening to take a major step and begin the process of seeking out an Orthodontist to assist me in a rebuilding project. Only this time – unlike customizing a bike - I would have very little control over the types and designs of the parts to be installed. I will admit however, that I was given some choice during each ten-week visit as to the color of the elastic bands that would help to form a nice and new smile.

I was instantly pleased upon my first visit at Get It Straight in Pittsford New York. It was here, that I discovered a small community of very professional and just all around good folks whom truly cared about their patients.

Having walked into their Re-Alignment Shop two years ago in my neatly pressed uniform and seeking their help, makes me think back to that time and all of the changes in my life that have taken place since that day. My Retirement from Police work, the move to Orange County, the addition of 2 more motorcycles and the many miles of travel around the United States to attend bike events, to name a few.

My final visit was last week. I wanted to go out with a bang, so when I handed Dr. G my digital camera and told him he had to document the removal of my new grille’s structural support system, he was more than happy to oblige. The Chief doesn’t do much these days that is typical or usual, by any standards. Upon writing the final check to cover the repair job, I received a bottle of wine. “Expensive wine”, I thought aloud!

The Chief always makes a big production of everything. First impressions and expensive wine can make all the difference. Remember – you only live once!

Thank you to the expert team at Get It Straight – my new smile is sure to attract not only new friends, but without a doubt, many flying insects while I’m on the road!

~Safe Riding~

- The Chief

Ah, The Hudson Valley!

2008-07-17T13:30:00.009-04:00

Recipe for an awesome Summer Saturday in New York -

Ingredients:

One Harley-Davidson Street Glide
One Warm and Sunny Day
One Fun Lovin Chief
One Sweet Lady from Delaware

Mix the four together - stirred, not shaken - and you have just what it takes for a fun and exciting riding experience!

There is something about the Hudson Valley that truly intrigues me. It's one of those things in life that one often cannot pinpoint exactly. It could be the endless rolling highways along the riverbanks on either side, or possibly the unbelievable mountain ranges jutting high into the sky. Perhaps it is the bridges crossing over the Hudson or the railways running parallel.

Regardless of exactly what the attraction is to me, I know beyond any reasonable doubt that it is a sight surely worth sharing with those whom you care about.

Karen is an awesome friend of mine. She is the kind of friend that a man feels comfortable sharing his most treasured moments with. So when Karen expressed an interest in spending some time cruising around the area with the Chief and seeing some of the sights he so often has boasted about, the offer was readily accepted.

Choice of highways on this particular summer Saturday was State Route 9D which winds like a snake through Dutchess and Putnam County along the Hudson.

First stop - Orange County Choppers - which just happens to be on the way. In an effort to help Sr. pay his utility bills on his vast new complex, we made the typical OCC tee shirt purchases after a long and tedious debate on colors and fashions (thanks Karen)!

Crossing the Newburgh/Beacon Bridge and heading down 9D we cruise into the village of Cold Spring. A village that has attracted my attention on more than one occasion, we stop in this quaint community for a short visit to enjoy some refreshments and spend a little time sharing our deepest of thoughts with each other. Karen is fun, because I can ramble on about trivial nonsense and she still likes me.

The one thing I failed to tell my friend although she was soon to find out - was the fact that even though I love this scenic area, I'm not all that familiar with the roads and where they may or may not take you. To say that I was a little nervous when we found ourselves in New Jersey in what appeared to be a National Park without a gas station in site and a needle pointing to E would simply be an understatement.

Thankfully, my Harley - good on gas - found her way out of the woods and back to civilization after an hour or so of what I believe was riding around in circles. Gas station? Yeah, we found one - but not until stopping to ask a local resident where the closest one was hiding. The Chief asking directions? Well, typically not – unless several comments prompt those actions…

-The Chief

Shameless Promotion!

2008-04-30T11:30:00.003-04:00

Hey all!

I've been charged with pedalling our company's wares to everyone I know. You're all in my Outlook contacts, so take a look at our threads and fine porcelains:

I know what you're probably thinking... the Chief's a sell out. RoadLoK pays my bills and keeps gas in my scoot, so there!

Ride safe!

-The Chief

"Jane Doe"

2008-04-30T00:07:00.004-04:00

Although On the Road with the Chief was born out of my love for cruising around the countryside on my sweet Harley Street Glide, there is yet another side to the Chief that surfaces every now and then and involves my love for speed and excitement. Without a doubt, it was wise for me—when I purchased my sportbike—to limit it to a 600cc scoot.

A few weeks ago, a couple of the guys from the office and I decided to take a short ride up to Ellenville N.Y. to experience the breathtaking views from atop the mountains. Bike of choice—YZF 600.

It was there, alongside a mountain overlook that “Jane Doe” came into my life. OK, so I’ll be the first to admit: it was the bike that attracted her, or maybe more accurately, the fact that the guys with me were half my age. Regardless of those facts, when a young and attractive woman approaches the Chief and solicits her “first ride on a motorcycle” many thoughts come into my mind. What if this? What if that? “Ok, I’ll give you a ride”. It was that simple.

So, off we cruise down the mountain road. The trip was short and sweet probably lasting no more than ten minutes, but it was ten minutes that I will remember for a long time. I attributed “Jane’s” trembling legs during the ride to the fact that she was slightly nervous—having never been on a bike before. Or perhaps the fact that she was in the presence of “the Chief”. No, it was the thrill and excitement of her first ride!

Jane, as much as you enjoyed your first motorcycle ride, I enjoyed your company and the short period of time that you came into and exited (uh, excited) my life.

Thank you!

-The Chief

A Public Service Message About Motorcycle Security

2008-04-02T21:08:00.005-04:00

I would surmise that with the current economic situation in our country, the use of and sales of motorcycles will probably increase. Many motorcycle owners whom in the past, have used their bikes for luxury and sport, may find it necessary to utilize their bike for daily commuting. Gas prices certainly could dictate this trend.

For that reason—and because we at RoadLoK Security truly care about you and your motorcycle—I would like to offer some words of advice about securing your prized possession.

Common sense can go a long way. Without going into a long laundry list of “do’s and don'ts” I’ll make this simple, brief and to the point:

A good share of motorcycle thefts in the United States are “roll away”- or “ride away”-type thefts. We all know and have heard many times that “ four strong men with a couple of pipes or two by fours, can carry your locked bike away”.

Yes, RoadLoK Security acknowledges the fact that if someone wants your bike bad enough, they’ll probably get it. We simply say, “don’t let your bike remain an easy target”.

Lock your bike as best as you know how. Install a RoadLoK, utilize a chain and padlock, install an alarm with a lock—just do something to secure the bike!

Always try to park in well lit areas that are visible to vehicle and foot traffic. If you ride in a group, block each others bike in and secure them all. If you can secure more than one bike to another or to an immovable object, do that too.
If you are continuously aware of the threat of theft, and keep a security conscious mind about where and how you leave your bike unattended you may not become a disgruntled pedestrian!

The photo included in this report, shows how a RoadLoK Defender thwarted the attempted theft of my Street Glide. Thanks RoadLoK!

Safe Riding!

-The Chief

Daytona Bike Week 2008

2008-03-28T20:08:00.006-04:00

Ah yes, Daytona Bike Week once again. An event well worth the time and expense involved to attend even when one is not feeling his best. The lack of photos taken on my camera would serve as proof positive that I was less than well.

Attendance this year was low. It was obvious and noticeable to me. I wondered aloud—on more than one occasion—whether it was weather-related or the current poor economic crunch we were all feeling… or both. Regardless, there was a noticeable difference.

Being the type of guy that I am, I typically make the best of a bad situation. For that reason—even though one day found me at the local “walk-in” clinic loading up on antibiotics—the remainder of the time found me promoting our locking systems to those who faithfully returned to Daytona for Bike Week.

This year, one of the highlights for me was meeting a Victory owner who purchased a Defender from us and had it installed on his bike. The Victory Defender has only been available for a short period of time and this was my first “in person” sale. To add to the excitement, his son bought a Defender for his Fat Boy. Two very intelligent men who care about their bikes!

As mentioned above this was just one of the highlights of my time in Daytona this year.

Another highlight was probably the awesome attention given to us at Hooligans Bar and Grille in Bruce Rossmeyer’s complex by some very nice waitresses. This I mention because if any of my road reports didn’t mention a woman or two, you would probably figure that someone else was writing my reports or that I was still very ill.

The next event for the RoadLoK Crew will be the Virginia Beach Bike Classic!

Safe Riding!

-The Chief

Fixing the Winter Blues - PART I

2008-02-12T19:26:00.001-05:00

FEBRUARY 12, 2008
by The Chief

I’ve never really liked winter. Well, perhaps back in the day when I was a young lad living in upstate New York and finding my way from point A to point B aboard a motorized contraption sporting two skis and a track. But that was then, and this is now.

Feeling a very realistic need to get away from the cold January in New York I decided to take a short road trip to a favorite spot of mine in Virginia.

Look out Virginia Beach, the Chief is coming back! So, on the road I head out—RoadLoK promotional material in one hand, camera in the other. One thing you have to understand right up front is the fact that I can’t get to Virginia Beach without first stopping to visit a favorite Harley dealership in Delaware.

More than just another Harley dealership, Mike’s Famous in Smyrna is like family to me.

There’s something about this whole area around Smyrna and Dover that tends to draw me to it. So as typical for me, I spend some time visiting and talking the talk about new developments—and of course—about the new Fat Bob I have on-order.

Back on the road, sporting my new hoodie from Mike’s, I continue my journey to the Beach; which by the way just happened to be about forty degrees warmer than New York. Seventy degrees and sunny is how this Chief likes to deal with the winter blues. Any questions?

After spending a nice weekend with friends and my Navy daughter, I head out Monday morning on a mission—a RoadLoK mission. There are many great Harley-Davidson dealerships in Virginia and many in the Beach area that are RoadLoK Dealers.

Watch out Richmond, here I come!

-The Chief

Lone Star Rally - Really!

2008-01-16T17:07:00.001-05:00

JANUARY 16, 2008
by The Chief

One thing that the RoadLoK Crew does and does well is share ideas--typically over dinner and drinks. I guess that is where the decision was reached while coming back from Biketoberfest to head west to Galveston. It was as if a bright light--a star perhaps... a lone star--shone down from the skies above and gently jogged one of our brains enough to say, 'Let’s go to the Lone Star Rally'. Of course we all chimed in with our affirmations that this was in fact a great idea.

So without further question or consideration, the RoadLoK Crew heads west and what a trip it turned out to be. Writing short road reports becomes difficult at times like this, when there is so much to say, coupled with my feeble attempt at keeping the report interesting. Should I load up this story with memoirs of typical Chief stuff, you know: lady bikers, hot bikes, hot lady bikers? Or should I talk about the fantastic weather, scenery and great riding that we were to behold?

Decision made. I’ll discuss three awesome Harley-Davidson dealerships we made contact with and who are now Authorized RoadLoK Dealers. After all folks, RoadLoK does pay me to promote their products so every now and again, I should focus on RoadLoK business.

First stop: Cowboy Harley-Davidson in Beaumont TX.
The first couple of minutes inside of a Harley Dealership--any Harley Dealership--fills this Chief's head with key information about the business. Upon first entering a dealership I notice several key factors which include layout, inventory quantities and employee friendliness & activity. Cowboy Harley sent great vibes that made me feel at home and comfortable!

When I approached the Parts Counter and made my somewhat routine introduction and product promotion speech I found--within minutes--a parade of Parts and Service Personnel following me to the parking lot to see first hand just what the RoadLoK was all about. Parts Manager, James Gray took little time to make the decision to come on board and help RoadLoK secure Harley motorcycles around the Beaumont area. Two thumbs up to a great dealership and a great crew at Cowboy Harley-Davidson!

Next stop: Mancuso Harley-Davidson, Houston TX.
Requiring a much needed break from the revving engines and hordes of bikers pushing their way through the Rally madness, a couple of the RoadLoK Crew decided to join me on a venture to another dealership or two.

As mentioned above, the first couple of minutes in a dealership tells me volumes of information about the overall operation of the business. Mancuso Harley-Davidson and Mancuso American Speed are two fantastic dealerships. The Parts Managers, Eric and Brian, know bikes, know the business and know a great product when they see it! I won’t say that they were an easy sell (thanks Brian) but both men were a real pleasure to work with. Two thumbs up to two more great Harley-Davidson Dealers!

Typically the Chief tells of his road trips as being highlighted by the scenery, the ladies and oh yes, did I mention the ladies? The Lone Star Rally certainly provided much entertainment in that arena, but truthfully, the highlight of this trip was the discovery of yet three great Harley Dealerships!

-The Chief

Rumble Through the Tunnels to Biketoberfest - The Final Chapter

2007-11-15T17:04:00.002-05:00

NOVEMBER 15, 2007
by The Chief

Ah Biketoberfest! A grand buffet of bikers, bikes, babes, vendors, food-and-liquid refreshment... There are times in my life that I really like the man that I am. Sometimes it takes events such as this to remind the soul just what life is really all about. Having been in attendance at many events over the past year I can attest to the fact that Biketoberfest was as sweet as most.

RoadLoK Security made their presence known at Bruce Rossmeyer’s Destination Daytona along with HHI and Jaybrake. Having worked with both companies in the past, I can truly say that both are staffed by some of the most knowledgeable and well-trained personnel in the industry. Plainly stated, they are just an all-around good bunch of folks! (Hi Mark!)

Our company would most likely attest to the fact that the highlight of this event was the positive contact made with both Bruce Rossmeyer at his dealership and with J&P Cycles at their nearby biker-parts haven. The RoadLoK, after all, is the finest locking system on the market for motorcycle security and those entrusted with decision-making and new product reviews all seem to reach a very quick and consistent conclusion. Simply stated: the RoadLoK is the best there is--according to popular consensus.

I, on-the-other-hand, may have a differing opinion as to just what the highlight of the week entailed. Keep in mind, however, that the Chief’s focus can at times be easily obscured.

The highlight of my Biketoberfest experience may possibly be revealed in the photos that go with this road report. Just maybe!

-The Chief

Rumble Through the Tunnels to Biketoberfest - PART II

2007-11-10T17:02:00.001-05:00

NOVEMBER 10, 2007
by The Chief

The second week of our month-long journey, found the RoadLoK Crew headed south from Virginia to Daytona Beach. As enjoyable as working for RoadLoK Security may seem at times, I have to say that it is not all fun and games. Planning a route of travel that will take in select Harley® dealerships along with nearby desired establishments capable of satisfying four hungry appetites may at times equal real work.

Imagine if you will, the happiness I felt within when we pulled into the parking lot at Savannah Harley-Davidson in Georgia. As much as I would like to report that my excitement was based solely on finding yet another modern and well maintained structure sporting the “Harley-Davidson” logos strategically placed, the neighboring business was the fuel that truly brought this aging biker back to life.

As much as walking into a Harley-Davidson shop can make anyone thirst for a new motorcycle, watching a sweet group of Hooter Girls posing for a truck driver can make a man just plain hungry. Savannah, Georgia: you know how to do things right! What biker wouldn’t be thrilled to have their dealership conveniently located next to a fine eatery such as Hooters?

Our visit in Savannah was exceptional. The Savannah Harley-Davidson dealership has been promoting our products for several months and they were introduced to our newest model, the Defender™. Once our business visit, and routine purchasing of tee shirts was completed, we stopped in to make our presence known with the girls next door--per my suggestion.

Understand that it’s not about the girls... it’s about the food. Yes, good food. Well…

-The Chief

Rumble Through the Tunnels to Biketoberfest - PART I

2007-10-20T16:57:00.000-04:00

OCTOBER 20, 2007
by The Chief

When our company decided to hit the road for a three-week extravaganza of bike events, I tried to imagine all of the contacts we would make and the new friends we would meet along the way. The thoughts that flooded my mind and the time that I spent pondering this most recent of road trips would in no way come close to the actual events that took place or that the RoadLoK crew was fortunate enough to experience.

First stop: Portsmouth, VA – Rumble Through the Tunnels. October 12 -14!

This event, hosted by Bayside Harley-Davidson, is an annual gettogether of vendors and bikers alike. The highlight of which is a Saturday morning biker’s parade through the Hampton Roads area--traversing through several of the tunnels around Virginia Beach. The proceeds of this police-escorted parade are used for the benefit of our Military Personnel whom proudly serve our country. Thousands of bikers roaring along on their colorful two-wheeled scoots keep the “rumble” alive and well in the tunnels.

Bayside Harley-Davidson found its parking lot peppered with vendors and bikers for this three-day event. RoadLoK Security was among the list of vendors. It was here that we met some of our newest of friends. I could spend hours writing about “Gunz” and some of his marketing and product ideas. Then there was Timm, the Portsmouth Police Motor Patrol Officer. Being former law enforcement myself, I still gravitiate toward the men and women in blue. We watched in amazement as Timm rode his steel horse at a “ slower than snail's pace “ in such tight circles that the bags kissed the pavement.

I would be remiss in my road report if I failed to mention our newest of Authorized RoadLoK Dealerships which came as a result of the Rumble Through the Tunnels. A bit of a soft-spoken man, Bayside Harley-Davidson’s Parts Manager, Tom James, gave the seal-of-approval to our RoadLoK Motorcycle locking system. Not only was Tom interested in showing me every bit of available chrome for my FLHX, he agreed that his personal ride, an immaculately-kept Road King, was in need of a RoadLoK Defender.

Thank you, Bayside Harley-Davidson for caring about our Service Personnel and thank you for your commitment in helping to keep motorcycle theft in-check. Two thumbs up!

-The Chief

Check back soon for Part II of Rumble Through the Tunnels to Biketoberfest where the Chief meets the Hooter’s girls.

Miracles Can Happen!

2007-10-07T16:54:00.002-04:00

OCTOBER 7, 2007
by The Chief

It wasn’t the fact that we rode early in the morning through a heavy and damp fog to reach our destination that made this journey extraordinary. It probably wasn’t the fact that the leader of our pack, Special Ed–you'd have to know him to understand–chose a route of heavily traveled highways peppered with pot holes and some of New York’s worst examples of deteriorating thoroughfares. And, without a doubt, it wasn’t about the irresponsible drivers going about their daily routine of big city life, as they rudely weaved in and out of their respective lanes-of-travel paying little attention to the five of us bikers, as we journeyed to Great Neck.

The miracle that did take place on this Saturday morning in early October was the discovery by our team, Team RoadLoK, of yet another exceptional Harley-Davidson dealership: enter Miracle Mile Harley Davidson of Great Neck, New York.

Unfortunately, the written word falls drastically short of encompassing the true magnitude of my elation when I happen upon a business that is run by folks who genuinely care about their customers. Customer care or better yet, quality customer care is increasingly rare these days. For that reason alone, I take great interest in writing about those experiences that I--as an individual--along with our company, find to be in the upper-echelon of our scale.

Let me talk for just a moment about my take on the required ingredients for a business--in this case a Harley-Davidson dealership to be considered a top-notch place to exchange currency for goods and service. Regardless of the products being sold, the foundation of a great business truly lies in customer care and assurance of customer satisfaction. Many consumers, myself included, typically will spend more money for a “like” product, as long as great customer service is provided. To some of us, good and/or great customer service seems so simple yet like previously stated is often hard to find. I believe that the average person, if treated well and with respect when making a purchase of goods or services, will be a returning customer. The bargain hunter looking for a new motorcycle, a new car or any major purchase for that matter, may find early-on that the best price didn’t include the best service department or the best dealership staff to stand behind the product once the deal was made. I for one cannot put a price tag on quality service and great customer care, subsequent to the sale.

The staff at Miracle Mile was a great pleasure to deal with. Within minutes of our arrival the two baggers we brought-in for service were wheeled away into the shop for that much-needed work. Although “Special Ed” didn’t feel so special when my cruiser was finished first, we both agreed that the service was done well, and at what we both felt was a reasonable fee. The service staff explained what was done to our bikes and seemed to be very thorough and knowledgeable in their field.

Our experience at Miracle Mile was very pleasant to say the least. We received excellent customer care, quality products and service and above and beyond that, the dealership was clean, well organized and set up to be very customer friendly. What more could a biker want? Needless to say, Miracle Mile Harley-Davidson is now a full-service RoadLoK Dealership! We are truly honored to welcome their team into the RoadLoK family because we know that our customers will be hard-pressed to find better service!

To Joey and all the staff at Miracle Mile Harley-Davidson, our new friends–two thumbs up–from the RoadLoK gang!

-The Chief

Sturgis or Bust

2007-10-06T16:48:00.002-04:00

OCTOBER 6, 2007
by The Chief

Imagine if you will for a minute or ten… cruising down the highway, interstate 90 to be exact, between Spearfish and Rapid City on a new Harley Street Glide at 85 mph. Add to this picturesque thought, temperatures in the 90s, the stereo blaring out the blues of BB King and this helmet-less rider enjoying life more than ever before.

Alright, so that may be nothing great or special to many of you who have lived this dream so many times before. But then again, I could guess that many of you didn’t enter into a world of bikes, babes and booze quite like I did, and from such a contrast from a previous lifestyle. A lifestyle that saw me with badge and gun in hand typically six days of every week. A lifestyle of dealing with those three things previously mentioned, from a totally different perspective. If I have achieved nothing else in my life worth mentioning, I can at least say that I have lived a very diverse life.

Sturgis is everything I dreamed it would be and more. Ideal riding weather coupled with unbelievable scenery and a land rich in history. Night life was anything you wanted it to be - as wild or as laid back as a biker could want. An evening group ride with a couple of really Dirty Girls probably highlighted my time spent in Sturgis. Throw in with that, the fact that I was called upon to rescue a young lad whom his mother had accidentally locked in her car while refueling. Yes, I still carry some tools of the previous trade and no doubt, there are flashbacks from time to time of a past that I have fond but fading memories of.

It has been said that attendance was down this year at Sturgis. Being my first time there, I would simply say that I for one, saw a lot of bikes and met a lot of cool people. From a business perspective, I am typically very impressed with the people I meet at bike events, and their interest in our product. Sturgis, I will return.

It’s not all about bikes, babes and booze. Well, yes it is.

-The Chief

Mike's Famous Sidewalk Sale

2007-09-28T01:16:00.001-04:00

SEPTEMBER 27, 2007
by The Chief

September 8th found friends and customers of Mike’s Famous Harley Davidson in Smyrna DE stopping by to take part in their first Sidewalk Sales event.

The RoadLoK gang was there to witness first hand, a truly remarkable Harley Dealership doing what it does best and setting the standard.

Upon arriving at Mike’s, after a wrong turn and spending an additional twelve dollars in unwarranted tolls, we were welcomed with open arms by Mike’s staff. Parking in front of the huge glass façade of modern architecture which boldly sports “Mike’s Famous” above the main entrance, six new '08 model year Harleys came rolling out the doors, to be displayed in our traveling RoadLoK concession.

Adam, Brink and I went right to work installing our new RoadLoK Defender on each of the new bikes. This was a pre-arranged agreement between the dealership and us. You see, Mike’s Famous is staffed with some of the best guys and gals in the business. Bikers who know Harley Davidson. Bikers who know a great product when they see it. Bikers who know that their bikes are too precious, too expensive and too personal to them, to let some thug lurking through an unlit parking lot, take their prized possession from them.

To say that this event was successful or worth our while, would truly be an understatement. This event was beyond any preconceived imaginings. In fact, before we were able to hook up each new 08 with a Defender, there was a lineup of customers, money in hand, requesting that their bike be next in line for a RoadLoK. Several of Mike’s staff purchased RoadLoK Snipers for their own bikes, again acknowledging their support of our product and their commitment to keeping their bikes just that, theirs.

At days end, being well-fed (thanks Roadie!), the RoadLoK crew headed back to New York to prepare for our next event.

Editor's Note: This event was the first of our new “Meet the Dealer” road trips. RoadLoK Security will be on the road visiting Harley Dealerships and partaking in Dealership events up and down the East Coast throughout the fall.

-The Chief

RoadLoK Takes Delmarva

2007-09-27T01:12:00.001-04:00

SEPTEMBER 26, 2007
by The Chief

What can you say about a bike event that hasn’t been said so many times before? We could talk about just how ideal the weather was, or about the location of the event that was more than vendor friendly. Hell, I could talk all day just about the scenic view heading into Ocean City along Route 90. Couple that with the myriad of classy eateries and biker bars and I believe you have the makings of one great motorcycle event.

The 7th annual Delmarva Bike Week was held this year from September 13th through the 16th in Ocean City Maryland. RoadLoK Security was one of the many vendors taking part in this well organized event. Upon arrival at Ocean Downs, and making a visual on the giant Gecko, we pulled into what would become our home for the next 4 days, alongside the gang from GEICO.

RoadLoK Security and GEICO will often times be found together at motorcycle events because quite simply, we work well together. O.K, there’s actually a little more to it than that. You see, GEICO endorses RoadLoK motorcycle locking systems, and offers discounts to riders sporting a RoadLoK on their scoots. Above and beyond all that, is the fact that well, we are just good guys with a common interest. That interest being motorcycles and security - the two go together nicely.

RoadLoK was well received at Delmarva. Promoting our new RoadLoK Defender was fun, entertaining for both us and the prospective buyer, and as with all motorcycle events that we attend, very educational for all whom we came in contact with. Quite simply stated, once discovered by an unsuspecting biker, the RoadLoK motorcycle locking system becomes one of those accessories that a biker just can’t seem to live without.

Delmarva Bike Week was a very positive experience for the RoadLoK Crew and we all are looking forward to next years event.

-The Chief

See pics from this event at: www.roadlok.com/news/delmarva.htm

The Chief and Brink Tackle Deal's Gap

2007-04-25T01:07:00.006-04:00

APRIL 24, 2007
by The Chief

RoadLoK Affiliate Mike Brink and I (The Chief) spent the weekend of April 27 at the Annual ‘Busa Bash, at Deals Gap, NC. The weather was ideal and the ride was beyond any expectations, being that it was our first time there. Brink was sporting his Suzuki TL1000 and my scoot of choice was my Yamaha YZF 600R. Although my 600 couldn’t compare to the ‘Busa or TL, it truly held its own weaving through the 318 curves of the Dragon. Quick and light, the 600 is a good ride. Riding on the Cherohala Skyway which is more open to speed, Brink and the ‘Busa crew waited patiently for me at the end.

The ‘Busa Bash --as it has been titled --is an annual get-together by the members of Hayabusa.org. This group of riders, both male and female alike, are a great bunch of folks. The care and respect that they hold for each other is paramount. One quick example of the caring nature that they hold toward each other involved a mishap by one of the orgs administrators. MCMustang (Sean) had the misfortune of crashing, soon after arriving for the bash, which sent him off to the local hospital and sent his prized possession, “Bessie” to the “too messed up to ride” category. While he was at the Emergency Room, the ‘Busa gang grabbed up Bessie and began a complete rebuild, making her road worthy once again. MC was able to ride her a few more times before the bash came to a close.

The ‘Busa Bash was a totally enjoyable experience for Brink and myself and we are both waiting patiently for next year's event!
-The Chief