The Good Ride

I first threw my leg over a motorcycle at four years old in Las Vegas. In retrospect, it was an outlet for my dad and I to connect, but I would have never imagined the opportunities a little steel and two tires would bring me.

When I turned 21, my pop gave me a Harley-Davidson Softail. Everything from its rigid look to the sound of the V-Twin engine gave me a feeling I knew I’d never be able to replace. I was in love.

In life, we take our time to make important decisions. We weigh different outcomes, talk with family, and may even Google it to see what other people have done. Imagine having less than a second to make a decision that could result in life or death.

In 2003, the universe tasked me with that challenge. During a choreographed big air trick at Tony Hawk’s Boom Boom HuckJam tour, something went wrong. I had two options: go right and land in the crowd, or go left, straight into the vert ramp. I chose left. The result? Two broken legs, two broken arms, and blood clotting that almost ended my life. A lot of guys would have hung it up after a crash like this. But I’m not a reasonable person. And after months of physical therapy, the most sustained physical pain I have ever endured, and many sleepless nights, I re-entered the sport that I love and fought it out for another decade-plus.

But the time has finally come to put this racehorse to pasture, and ride on to new thrills in life.

“Transition” can be a very scary word. Whether in life, your career or relationships, it typically comes from something bad. I knew the transition from athlete to “what the hell am I going to do now” would be coming soon. I saw that turn coming, and now I’m ready.

It’s all about new challenges. I’d always been good at maintaining my own motorcycles, but now I’ve decided to face the task of actually building one. Okay, I’ll be honest: the first bike wasn’t completely handmade by me. But I teamed up with Harley-Davidson and built what I felt was a pretty badass looking Road Glide. That bike was selected to grace the cover of Bagger Magazine and has yet to break down.

Building bikes is a fun challenge, but really, bikes have given me everything, and I want to give something back. So I’m thrilled about my next endeavor, Good Ride. I’ve collaborated with the Sturgis Motorcycle Rally to ink a 6-year deal for the state of South Dakota to host our ride, with all the proceeds going to charity. This is a great opportunity to do what I love, and do it for a positive cause that gives back to my community. What more could anyone ask for?

This year we’re doing Good Ride events in Laughlin, Las Vegas, and culminating in Sturgis. Honestly, I’m not sure what the future holds for me as I transition into a bike builder. And that scares me. But I can promise you this…Good Ride is going to be AMAZING! Me and 200 other riders on their motorcycles, swapping stories of the road, comparing bikes, and riding to some really great destinations.

Over the last 13 years I’ve diversified, with my fair share of painful reality TV appearances, a clothing company, and now my Good Ride charity ride. But none of these things will ever replace the feeling I got from hitting big jumps, or from railing turns on a perfectly prepped track. A lot of athletes must share these same sentiments, right? How do you replace the feeling of dominance, of victory? You spend a lifetime working to make it to the top, and then one-day Father Time steps in and puts you on the bench.

But I guess that’s what transition truly means…accepting the past for what it is, and embracing whatever the future holds for you. If I play my cards right, maybe I’ll be able to build bikes that kids fall in love with like I once did. Maybe the Good Ride will do some real good in the world. Maybe that would be the best victory.