DEATH
“Thankfully, Allah put death at the end of life, not the beginning.” (Arab proverb).
“If I don’t see you no more in this world/I’ll see you in the next one/So don’t be late.” (Jimi Hendrix).
When you speak the names of the dead, a kind of power can be felt. Knowing that each ride criss-crosses their paths adds an enigmatic dimension to your journey. The dead are respected by the continuance of the living to ride - a sense of noblesse, which restores our well-being. Among those of us who’re alive, death is usually a sad thing. Death on a motorcycle affects us tragically. In death, the Biker still stands out from the crowd.
Evidence of the attitudes between early riders occurred when the famous American rider Jake De Rosier had a racing accident. He was forced to sell off his trophies to pay for health care, so a benefit race was held by his sympathetic peers. But it wasn’t enough. After several operations, De Rosier died. Hundreds attended his funeral, and work at the Indian motorcycle factory (for whom he had raced) in the US stopped for five minutes as the procession passed.
Arthur Moorhouse was the first rider to be killed at Brooklands, and his Indian machine was buried where the accident occurred. Similar gestures have endured, though smaller memorabilia are now more commonly interred with the deceased. Most cultures pay some respect to the dead, and it is through some of these peculiar attributes that we can recognise them.
While many Bikers insist on a mad care-free party to mark their passing, grief is an inevitable human response. In Biker death, there is a time for personal reactions to pour out. Grief cannot hide behind the shades worn to mask tears. The presence of several bikes in a funeral cavalcade creates a moving experience that any departed person would be proud of. It marks a togetherness in solemnity, and triggers the pain that the living can feel. The funereal gathering of bikes isn’t confined to Biker deaths. Rock musicians and others belonging to associated cultures have received gestures of thundering respect. Many non-Bikers recall biking funerals. They speak with awe and respect about the number of bikes, and the unashamed emotional displays of those present. No matter what their opinion of living Bikers, they note the deceased ones with a touch of humanity.
A sense of mortality naturally takes a fairly high profile among Biker issues. The local and bike media along with someone-who-knows-someone-that-died stories constantly remind Bikers of their fragile humanity. But in life, all living creatures are vulnerable and susceptible to the whims of the reaper, who has no regard for any quality of life, age, or status. Though they may be Bikers in death, not so many of them presume that they’ll go on a bike. They consider other silliness, like drowning in the bath when you’re drunk. A joke, no matter how sick, is perhaps the only way anyone can drive the demon fear from their minds. Besides that, the fact that we can presume that the dead died happy - like the Biker who lived out their beliefs, can buffer us from the inevitable horror.
Those Bikers who’ve lain in the road or wherever, their bodies seriously mangled, might be persuaded to relinquish bikes. Some find themselves so badly damaged, that any form of driving is beyond them. For these, there is a greater pain, because their circumstances are permanently changed. Some people are just so narrowly focused, that if they can, they will ride again. Drastic alterations to the bike might be necessary, besides which, this might be the door through which Bikers find themselves riding bike relatives.
Whether they’ve had an accident or not, Bikers may seem to have a blasé attitude towards death. It is like a blind corner. You can’t see it, but it could be lurking there. You don’t timidly walk out to the bike thinking: Oh crikey, I might die today. There’s no fun in cowering, but a healthy respect for reality goes a long way. That respect develops the biking persona, and when some say: ‘Oh my God, I’m gonna die’, they are jokingly referring to the exhilaration of the ride. Despite all this, there are those who quit biking because of what happens to others. They may rightly view this option as sensible. Those who stay with it, aren’t necessarily made of sterner stuff, they just aren’t prepared to give up something they love on any other premise but their own passing. So you just keep on riding until you die: Death or Glory.
We all, unless under mitigating circumstances, adjust. Some subconscious adjustment might occur before death, whether it be for ourselves or others we know. That planned festivity at a Biker’s passing can be well organised in their mind. It will certainly have Romany influences - the procession and probably an act of significant destruction. The choice of music to be played, should they choose to even mark the occasion, is important. It might be the anthemic Born to be Wild by Steppenwolf, a piece of Baroque music, or the daftest, most incongruous thing the departed could dream up (like: The Big Rock Candy Mountains, by Tex Morton). But it all has significance, whether private or shared, emotional or lyrical. Moreover, the wonderful thing about those who survive them is their respect for such wishes.
The method of disposing of the body is often noted, and also what clothes or trinkets are to be included, and marks of respect paid by living Bikers outshine the funereal bullshit proffered by strangers. In biking, death is life celebrated, rather than a passing mourned. Assuming it’s not a cremation, future archeologists will find plenty of clues when they exhume Biker remains. The artifacts of Biker culture are distinct enough to tell detailed stories of the lives they represent.
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Bike cults and paraphernalia often make allusions to death, often as a jibe at the face of fear. Although there have been some extreme activities, the issue of death cults rests in the misreading of a fascination some Bikers have with sombre or macabre paraphernalia. Bikers have been associated with the black arts, some even have an interest. But it is mostly lodged in a fascination with myth and magic. Because the iconography and art of past cultures have been embraced into Biker culture, they can give an impression of arcane obsession. But life is a rich pool into which Bikers submerge themselves, regardless of death.
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In most cultures, death can turn people’s thoughts to the after life and spirituality. The existence of a soul is often debated. Is it a concept of the mind, or a tangible manifestation? If we can describe the way somebody can paint or play an instrument with soul, there’s no reason why, as a performing art, biking cannot be similarly described. Such mortal acts could be the physical manifestation of something deeper. In a similar but more spooky way, after the departure of something or someone from our lives, we sometimes encounter echoes. The faithful dog imagined on a chair, the habitual inclination to ask a partner’s opinion, to make two drinks or get out two cigarettes - even peripheral or dreaming visions remind us of some other in trivial yet profound ways.
Is it our memory, or have they visited on us? Some of the feelings we experience under these circumstances are often new to us, and certainly can’t be ignored. Perhaps spiritual beliefs are a mechanism for enduring grief. It is argued that the teachings and acts of religious leaders have been misconstrued and distorted across time, but a glance at their followings, even to this day, suggests that our thinking is prepared to put store by after-life ideals. Some people credit inanimate objects with supernatural abilities, or spiritual possession. Buildings, vehicles and other items associated with the deceased are alleged to be occupied by souls not at peace. Whichever way the argument goes for the individual, this sense of something - some prefer to call it a life-force, contributes to the funerary rites we perform.
There are no stories of any Biker-ghosts, and if spirit biking phenomena exist, we would by now have encountered some headless joker wheelying through a pub. There are however, curious tales that seem to defy coincidence and illusion. Riders claim to have been flagged down by people, thus avoiding impending disasters. Those people, when described, have been recognised by others as someone deceased. Others have given lifts to people who are also later identified as someone supposed to be dead. The same phenomenon has attended roadside repairs, performed by those whom others again, claim to be dead.
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Ancient Egyptian culture gives us a concept that stirs deep human emotion and thought. This is the rebel in the soul. There is a more crucial and positive meaning to the word rebel. It is not that stereotype we dumb it down with: people rebel against oppression and evil. In this context, the rebel in the soul is an entity that seems motivated by forces outside of a person’s will, a restless seeker and voyager, whose exploits were experienced during dreams - and manifested in prophetic living deeds.
It may seem to go against common logic or personal belief, outside the character of the person it imbues. Yet there is an over-riding logic and righteousness to the meanings and acts of the rebel in the soul. It exists in all of us. Some deny it, some fight it, and some coexist in peace with it. It might be associated with spiritual or animal guides, but it is not just the voice of the conscience. It is something outside of us yet part of us. Comparable with the Hippy belief that we are all stardust, if anything could survive death, it would be the rebel in the soul. In the worship of motorcycles, some of the living unconsciously recognise the bike as a manifestation of the rebel in their own souls.
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In closing this section, a few lines are left blank, to represent a moment’s respectful silence for those who might now be in your thoughts.........................