Twenty Years - The Story

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

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

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

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)

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

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

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

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

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

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

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"

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

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

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

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