The Indianapolis / Marion County Criminal Justice Center, 7:30 a.m.
I came across some notes I took after serving on a jury in Indianapolis a couple of years ago.
The details of the case don't really matter: A "sovereign citizen" picked up doing nearly 90 mph, drunk, through the downtown I-70 north split had an encounter with a state trooper.
The real takeaway for me was how a group of people can get together, hash out the evidence and come to an agreement amicably. In a nation so divided in so many ways, it was a refreshing reminder of how we can get along when we try to work together.
Looking out at the city from the Jutice Center, awaiting for the wheels of justice to turn
This closeup look at the legal system also reminded me of a conversation I had recently on an app where people gather to practice speaking English. I'm a moderator in the group, which is something like a 24 hour talk show with people from around the world, including Iran, Iraq, Sudan, Egypt, Australia and so many other places, who gather to learn what they regard as the world's universal language.
I was in one of those conversations when a person from the Middle East told me how much he admires the United States. That's not uncommon: For all of our faults, we're still a beacon to people elsewhere. I asked this person what in particular he liked about the U.S.
"I like that in your country you have something that doesn't exist in many places," he said.
"In the United States you have the rule of law."
Yes sir, I thought. It doesn't always seem that way, but we are trying.
(I wrote this piece in May 2023 for the North Shadeland Alliance newsletter)
You can drive by a place every day and
never really see it.
That’s how I felt about Indianapolis
Fire Department Station 17, our local firehouse just a couple blocks east of 75th
Street and Shadeland Avenue. We’re lucky to have people like this so close and
ready to help, and I wondered what their lives were like on a typical day.
A Night in the Life of IFD Station 17 C Shift
6:30 p.m. – “It’ll probably be a quiet night—but you never know,”
I got to Indianapolis Fire Department
Station 17 on a Wednesday evening in May as C Shift was eating dinner, and the
firefighters insisted I have a plate with them. They were having barbecue,
fixed in the station’s kitchen by Avery Lewis and Kyle Petroff, both
“backsteppers” on the engine that night. They’re called that because in the
days before enclosed cabs, firefighters would ride on the truck’s back steps,
out in the open.
“It always happens when somebody comes
out – things are slow,” said Dave Yeoman, the truck’s engineer. His job is to
drive the Pierce fire truck to the scene, connect to a hydrant to supply water
to the vehicle’s pump, and then operate the controls that send pressurized
water to the hose lines.
7:14 p.m. – Things are slow…until they’re not.
Suddenly, alert tones sound over the
station’s PA system, and the four-member crew of IFD Engine 17 jumps in their
truck. Yeoman is driving. Capt. Jeff Muszar, in the front passenger seat, is
the officer in charge.
The backsteppers and I are in the back
of the cab in jump seats. A Tesla has slammed into a utility pole on Shadeland
Avenue south of 75th Street. The driver isn’t hurt, but the wooden
pole is snapped in two, and police block the curb lane so the power company can
clean things up.
The fire department is called out to
treat the driver if they are injured and to deal with the car in case it
catches fire, which doesn’t happen this time. Electric vehicle battery fires
are relatively rare, but are still a concern for fire departments because they
present special technical and safety challenges.
8:58 p.m. – A Fire Near Eagles Nest
There’s a fire in the residential area
along 75th Street near the south entrance to Eagle Nest, which turns
out to be someone burning wood from an old fence in a large fire pit.
Indianapolis has an open
burning ordinance, and this homeowner, whose blaze is crackling
about 15 feet in the air, is out of compliance. Someone has called to complain,
and Muszar, as the officer in charge of Engine 17, is cordial to the homeowner
as he explains that the fire must be put out. “I’m not the fire police,” he
says. “But there’s an ordinance, and someone around here is complaining about
you.” The homeowner is friendly in return: “Well, it did get a little out of
hand there for a bit.”
9:26 p.m. – A House Fire Reported
We’re on a run to an actual reported
house fire, assisting the Lawrence Fire Department on Stark Drive next to Fort
Harrison.
This is something of an event for the
station because, by far, they handle many more medical runs than fires.
Yeoman connects a hose and adds his
water supply to help the Lawrence firefighters, who are attacking the blaze in
a detached garage, preventing it from engulfing the nearby house.
Flames are shooting high into the air
when we arrive, and a building makes terrible sounds in a fire, the crackling,
snapping blaze itself, and the weird pops and noises that sound almost like a
thing in pain.
Muszar checks with his Lawrence
colleagues to see what they need while Yeoman runs the pumps. Lewis and Petroff
are standing by in full gear in case other firefighters get trapped and have to
be rescued.
They are serious about safety.Seventy U.S. firefighters died in the line of
duty in 2021, according to the National Fire Protection Association, and nearly
61,000 others were injured. An Indianapolis Star list includes more than 70
Marion County firefighters killed in the line of duty since Daniel Glazier,
then the Indianapolis department’s chief, died in 1873 when a wall collapsed on
him during a major blaze.
This station lost a firefighter 35
years ago when it was part of the Lawrence Township department. David Edwards,
age 28 and Lawrence Township’s EMS division chief at the time, was in a burning home when he fell through a
collapsed kitchen floor into the basement.
Muszar was with him on that run. “My
best friend was Dave Edwards, who convinced me that I needed to be a
firefighter,” he said.
We were talking in his office, and the
station – the house, as it’s called – was quiet between runs. It got quieter
still as the captain talked about that February night.
“I rolled out with them on that fire,”
he said. “We should have died as well, but we didn’t. It just changed my life
in ways that you can’t explain.”
10:21 p.m. – Report of a Fallen Elderly Nursing Home Resident
Engine 17 is called out with the
station’s ambulance to assist a fallen elderly resident of a nursing home. She
is OK, but the medics take her in their ambulance to the ER. After about half
an hour, Engine 17 is back at the station, where things are quiet for a while.
Firefighters work 24 hours on, then 48 off. Though they can grab some sleep in
the station’s dorm, a call can come at any time until their shift ends in the
morning.
Engine 17 Engineer Dave Yeoman
As Society Changes, Being a Firefighter Has Become More Dangerous
Muszar is the “house captain” for IFD
Station 17, responsible for the facility. He grew up around here when 82nd
Street was a two-lane road, and his 92-year-old father still lives nearby.
“I’m from here, so I’m glad to be able
to come back to protect this area,” he says.
But changes in society affect
everybody, including the rescuers.
“We’re not just going out on fires or
hazmat or car wrecks or medical emergencies,” he says. “We have a massive
number of mental health runs, and we’re going out on overdoses now. These can
be volatile situations, and that puts our lives in danger.”
Muszar and Yeoman, best friends, both
plan to retire in three years.
Yeoman, on the job for 28 years,
started with Lawrence Township before it merged with the Indianapolis
department in 2011. He earned a bachelor’s degree from Purdue University and
got his teaching license, but eventually decided to follow in the steps of his
father, who had been a West Lafayette firefighter.
As the older veterans talk about their
careers, they like what they see in the younger firefighters coming up. Petroff
has two years on the job, and Lewis has one. They’re quiet, confident, very
good at their jobs, and respectful toward the veterans.
This Job is About Helping People
On the way back to the station from a
run, everyone’s relaxed—no red lights, blaring horn and sirens now.
Muszar and Yeoman are teasing each
other over their headsets, with the backsteppers listening in over the
background of radio calls. Muszar has a love of corny dad jokes, and the two
younger guys in the back roll their eyes.
Later on, as the clock nears midnight
and members of the crew try to grab some sleep before the next call, Yeoman
relaxes in a chair on the patio next to the station’s giant bay doors and says
he’ll miss some of this.
“I look forward to coming to the
firehouse,” he says. “This job is about helping people, and there’s a fun,
family bond here.”
I do things in
streaks, like running or walking every single day–through rain, sleet or gloom
of night–the past 13 years.
Last year, averaging just over four miles per day, that meant walking
1,495 miles–at least one per day, no matter what. Since
starting this obsession on Sept. 6, 2012, that's 4,135 days and 12,812
miles.
A related obsession has been to keep a daily journal since 2018.
This was inspired by the work of Calvin Fletcher, an early
Indianapolis lawyer and farmer who faithfully kept a diary. How faithfully?
They've been preserved and published by the Indiana Historical Society in nine
volumes.
Last year, my own trivia of daily life, story ideas,
character sketches and other junk totaled about 92,000 words. Since starting six
years ago, the project has reached nearly 872,000 words.
It seems like a lot, but I remember telling my friend
Gerry Lanosga about an early draft of a fiction project that was 17,000 words.
"Great,” he said. “But are they the right
words?"
It’s hard to say if these six years of journals includes many
shiny nuggets, but it's fun to combine the two obsessions: Walking that much
every day, you're bound to get an idea or two, and the phone can be a handy
scratchpad. This mini-essay is my entry to start 2024.
Consistency is key, even when there’s no specific goal. For
some of us, writing resembles as much an act of faith as of art.
If you're having trouble finding a job, you're not alone. Jonathan Rose has some great tips on the Facebook group "What's Your Plan B?"
"Straight up: The job market sucks right now. Folks who have been in PR, content marketing and comms their entire careers aren’t able to find jobs.
"I know CEOs who are getting 500+ resumes for every copywriter or content manager job they post.
"I was laid off from my Plan B a year ago December in an RIF and am just now landing promising interviews — and one of those would put me back in media which is somewhere I never wanted to go.
"I’ve been picky. You def don’t want an entry level position as your current position on your resume.
"That said, I’ve also built a little client book and taken every opportunity to expand my portfolio. I don’t say no to any opportunity that comes my way and have tapped into the relationships I built as a journalist (and private person) to land contract, consulting and freelance gigs. I launched two newsletters. I took Coursera content-marketing courses.
"My advice to you/things to consider:
"1. Build a sexy portfolio displaying a variety of work.
"It should have multimedia, news reporting (short and long form), SEO writing (B2B and B2C), website writing, scripts, advertising writing, etc.
"It should not have a cheapo wix or Squarespace domain name. Buy a domain.
2. Sign up at creative-focused hiring firms like Creative Circle and Aquent. Don’t expect to actually land a job through them but just looking at the job descriptions and getting their emails will give you a good idea of what your competition looks like and how you should evolve your portfolio and resume.
"3. Apply through Indeed! And ZipRecruiter. And LinkedIn. In my experience, you’re more likely to hear back through those platforms because there’s a profile and more holistic presence attached to the application. You’re just an invisible applicant when you apply through a company’s website. Employers use those platforms for a reason.
"4. Tap into your network and network, network, network. Every social engagement I go to — even meeting friends of friends out bar hopping — generally turns up a lead or two.
"5. Embrace AI. I use ChatGPT as an advisor for writing cover letters and anticipating interview questions. I’ve played around on the developer side. I also use it in my writing. It’s not only a great assistant, but you need to know it for any content job you apply to.
"6. Be ready to take a retail gig. If you don’t want an entry level job and don’t want to burn a bridge in the business community when you jump ship for the RIGHT job when it comes your way, be willing to make lattes or be a cashier.
"And finally, I say this with kindness: If you’re applying to jobs that demand AP Style expertise, make sure your cover letter and resume actually are in AP Style (or Chicago or whatever). Don’t use two little hyphens — use the em dash, for example. Brush up on the latest style guidance.
"It’s truly brutal out there. Competition is fierce af and you’re competing against people with tons of experience and no experience but think they can write. Recruiters have to sift through that. Make it easy on them."
Editor's Note: I've deleted the material about Twitter. The comments from Pew and others were accurate, but they haven't aged well as the site grows increasingly toxic. - js
Journalists can use social media to
promote their work, find sources for news stories,
and maintain an updated portfolio for prospective sources—and employers.
Doing those things well is easier with the right road
map:
Post Regularly
“Consistency is key when it comes to building your
personal brand on social media,” Oliver Mathenge has written.
“This means creating a regular cadence of content that
aligns with your brand and resonates with your audience. This could include
sharing your own articles, sharing industry news and insights, conducting
Q&A sessions, or providing behind-the-scenes glimpses into your work.
Whatever you choose to do, make sure it aligns with your brand and is
consistent.”
He mentions the growing use of podcasts and live
streaming as examples of innovative uses of social media.
Protect Your Reputation
Whatever the nation’s changing social media tastes and
new platforms, journalism’s enduring values are critical to good social media
practice.
At Arizona State University, the Walter Cronkite School
of Journalism and Mass Communication insists on ethical guidelines
that reflect those of the Society of Professional Journalists.
At the top of the list: Wherever they post, journalists
should act independently, free of any interest other than the public’s right to
know.
“Social media helps journalists find sources, engage
audiences and develop story ideas as well as make personal and professional
connections,” the guidelines note.
“Avoid posting information to social networking sites or
blogs that could call into question your ability to act independently as a
journalist.
“This includes expressing political views, sports fandom
or opinions about newsmakers or sharing internal communications, even if you
are participating in what is supposed to be a private group.”
Show Your Skills
There’s another use for social media that’s important for
newer communicators. For those without a substantial body of work or who are
just starting, the platforms offer a chance to demonstrate ability. Multimedia
or video skills, for example, are much in demand, judging from many news and
communications job
posts.
The problem for newcomers has always been
that it can be difficult to get a job without experience—and hard to get
experience without a job. But writers and visual storytellers can now publish
themselves.
Using just a mobile phone, an inexpensive tripod and
microphone, a person can grow their video skills and publish their work on
YouTube, Vimeo and other sites, gaining both the chance to practice their skills and fresh pieces to
show to prospective employers. Is a phone the best way to shoot and edit video? Of
course not, but it’s important to start somewhere and not wait for someone to
provide a $35,000 camera.
Also, for work you’re going to pitch to news websites
or to show your composition and editing chops, shoot with your phone in
landscape, or horizontal mode. And yes, there are other opinions
about this.
For some, the challenge is finding suitable topics. But
again, the low cost of entry—a phone, basically—means that a creative writer
and multimedia producer can take on projects for community groups and
nonprofits. Here’s
an example from a march against domestic violence, shot and edited
on an iPhone with an inexpensive wireless mic.
Tutorials, courses and other resources for learning are
all over the web,
but the important thing is to get started. Community groups and journalism
startups are eager for help, and the producer can get some valuable practice,
not to mention great contacts and recommendations.
In short, there is plenty of excellent advice about how
journalists and other communicators can use social media. But the best advice
is to get to work—without waiting to be hired—and publish on social media
regularly to build the in-demand skills that lead to good jobs.
It's helpful to think of news multimedia as a ladder: Some stories require a short soundbite--the mayor talking about street repairs, or raw video from a fire. The next rung might be a soundbite with b-roll cover illustrating the interview topic.
More complex would be a series of soundbites in the form of a narrative, with b-roll and natural sound "pops" to convey a sense of place. In television news, these are known as "nat-packs," natural-sound packages. Note that they're different from the reporter-narrated stories, which work better on television, with its more passive viewing experience, than online, where consumers expect to be able to explore the different story elements--text, photos, video, etc--in the order they choose.
The challenge for new, nonprofit community journalism outlets is to embrace the power of multimedia at whatever skill level the staff has--but to at least get started. Again, that could simply mean adding a soundbite to a text story to give readers a richer experience than simply printing the quotations.
Passing up the TV-style, reporter-narrated packages doesn't mean the video can't be compelling. Nat-packs, even ones like this, shot and edited on an iPhone, can offer good information, engage viewers, and promote social sharing, likes, and comments, which promote the organization as well as the content.
The point of this demonstration nat-pack is to experiment with what's possible using just a phone, a $40 wireless mic and about four hours of shooting and editing for the four interviews and 30 sound and b-roll edits.
Relatively few daily stories will warrant multimedia at this level, but newsrooms that recognize the ladder and start putting their hands on at least the bottom rungs will have an advantage over those that don't.
International politics can be complicated, but as the world watches the escalating violence in Haiti, Jack Davidson is certain of one thing.
“We have to feed the children,” he says. Davidson, of Signal Mountain, Tennessee, is founder and executive director of the American Haitian Foundation, a non-profit aid organization he founded in 2000.
The foundation’s volunteers recently raised more than $100,000 through their annual yard sale to support the organization, which operates St. Antoine School in Haiti.
St. Antoine, in the community of Petite Riviere de Nippes about 75 miles west of Port-au-Prince, the troubled nation’s capital, educates and feeds about a thousand students, pre-school to high school, also sending meals home with the youngsters for their families.
“The most important thing we need now is revenue to feed children,” Davidson said at a pitch-in dinner for volunteers at St. Augustine Catholic Church on Signal Mountain, one of five churches that support the group along with numerous private contributors.
The foundation has about 100 employees at the school, including teachers, cooks and security guards, and an operating budget of about $25,000 a month.
“It comes from all over,” Davidson said of the financial support. “People hear about it and like what we’re doing. It comes from people sharing our posts on Facebook and things like that.”
Doctors and others who visit the project in Haiti often end up becoming supporters, he said. But the situation there is extremely dangerous since the 2021 assassination of President Jovenel Moise, which created a political vacuum in which Haitian gangs have largely taken control.
“It’s extremely difficult there until we have a legitimate government in place. Right now, there's four main roads that go to Port-au-Prince, and all of them are blocked by gangs,” he said. “They’re restricting food and medical supplies.”
Davidson is working with local farmers and other groups to maintain a stream of food and other supplies to the school. He’s hoping conditions there will improve, but there have been few signs of progress in the country so far.
“I just have to be hopeful,” he said. “It’s the only thing that keeps us going—the hope for a better future.”
Indy's new Spark on the Circle "pop-up park" was a popular spot today, and I chatted with a few visitors, including a pilot from Brazil, a Mississippi bull-rider, Lafayette mom, a Butler student from the Netherlands and a street musician with an interesting take on the passing scene. The new park feels like a hit.
I'm working on some new training to help writers use video to amplify the power of their work--and to help videographers improve their writing. Here's a piece I did for my local neighborhood group that demonstrates an all-digital workflow:
It’s quiet at the firehouse—until it’s not: Six hours at IFD Station 17
Capt. Jeff Muszar, Indianapolis Fire Department
You can drive by a place every day and never really see it.
That’s how I felt about Indianapolis Fire Department Station 17, our local firehouse just a couple blocks east of 75th
Street and Shadeland Avenue. We’re lucky to have people like this so
close and ready to help, and I wondered what their lives were like on a
typical day.
6:30 p.m. – “It’ll probably be a quiet night—but you never know,”
I got to Indianapolis Fire Department Station 17 on a Wednesday
evening in May as C Shift was eating dinner, and the firefighters
insisted I have a plate with them. They were having barbecue, fixed in
the station’s kitchen by Avery Lewis and Kyle Petroff, both
“backsteppers” on the engine that night. They’re called that because in
the days before enclosed cabs, firefighters would ride on the truck’s
back steps, out in the open.
“It always happens when somebody comes out – things are slow,” said
Dave Yeoman, the truck’s engineer. His job is to drive the Pierce fire
truck to the scene, connect to a hydrant to supply water to the
vehicle’s pump, and then operate the controls that send pressurized
water to the hose lines.
7:14 p.m. – Things are slow…until they’re not.
Engine 17 heads out on a run
Suddenly, alert tones sound over the station’s PA system, and the
four-member crew of IFD Engine 17 jumps in their truck. Yeoman is
driving. Capt. Jeff Muszar, in the front passenger seat, is the officer
in charge.
The backsteppers and I are in the back of the cab in jump seats. A
Tesla has slammed into a utility pole on Shadeland Avenue south of 75th
Street. The driver isn’t hurt, but the wooden pole is snapped in two,
and police block the curb lane so the power company can clean things
up.
The fire department is called out to treat the driver if they are
injured and to deal with the car in case it catches fire, which doesn’t
happen this time. Electric vehicle battery fires are relatively rare,
but are still a concern for fire departments because they present
special technical and safety challenges.
8:58 p.m. – A Fire Near Eagle Nest
There’s a fire in the residential area along 75th Street
near the south entrance to Eagle Nest, which turns out to be someone
burning wood from an old fence in a large fire pit.
Indianapolis has an open burning ordinance,
and this homeowner, whose blaze is crackling about 15 feet in the air,
is out of compliance. Someone has called to complain, and Muszar, as the
officer in charge of Engine 17, is cordial to the homeowner as he
explains that the fire must be put out. “I’m not the fire police,” he
says. “But there’s an ordinance, and someone around here is complaining
about you.” The homeowner is friendly in return: “Well, it did get a
little out of hand there for a bit.”
9:26 p.m. – A House Fire Reported
We’re on a run to an actual reported house fire, assisting the Lawrence Fire Department on Stark Drive next to Fort Harrison.
This is something of an event for the station because, by far, they handle many more medical runs than fires.
Yeoman connects a hose and adds his water supply to help the Lawrence
firefighters, who are attacking the blaze in a detached garage,
preventing it from engulfing the nearby house.
Flames are shooting high into the air when we arrive, and a building
makes terrible sounds in a fire, the crackling, snapping blaze itself,
and the weird pops and noises that sound almost like a thing in pain.
Muszar checks with his Lawrence colleagues to see what they need
while Yeoman runs the pumps. Lewis and Petroff are standing by in full
gear in case other firefighters get trapped and have to be rescued.
They are serious about safety.Seventy U.S. firefighters
died in the line of duty in 2021, according to the National Fire
Protection Association, and nearly 61,000 others were injured. An Indianapolis Star list
includes more than 70 Marion County firefighters killed in the line of
duty since Daniel Glazier, then the Indianapolis department’s chief,
died in 1873 when a wall collapsed on him during a major blaze.
This station lost a firefighter 35 years ago when it was part of the
Lawrence Township department. David Edwards, age 28 and Lawrence
Township’s EMS division chief at the time, was in a burning home when he fell through a collapsed kitchen floor into the basement.
Muszar was with him on that run. “My best friend was Dave Edwards,
who convinced me that I needed to be a firefighter,” he said.
We were talking in his office, and the station – the house, as it’s
called – was quiet between runs. It got quieter still as the captain
talked about that February night.
“I rolled out with them on that fire,” he said. “We should have died
as well, but we didn’t. It just changed my life in ways that you can’t
explain.”
10:21 p.m. – Report of a Fallen Elderly Nursing Home Resident
Engine 17 is called out with the station’s ambulance to assist a
fallen elderly resident of a nursing home. She is OK, but the medics
take her in their ambulance to the ER. After about half an hour, Engine
17 is back at the station, where things are quiet for a while.
Firefighters work 24 hours on, then 48 off. Though they can grab some
sleep in the station’s dorm, a call can come at any time until their
shift ends in the morning.
Dave Yeoman, IFD Engineer
As Society Changes, Being a Firefighter Has Become More Dangerous
Muszar is the “house captain” for IFD Station 17, responsible for the facility. He grew up around here when 82nd Street was a two-lane road, and his 92-year-old father still lives nearby.
“I’m from here, so I’m glad to be able to come back to protect this area,” he says.
But changes in society affect everybody, including the rescuers.
“We’re not just going out on fires or hazmat or car wrecks or medical
emergencies,” he says. “We have a massive number of mental health runs,
and we’re going out on overdoses now. These can be volatile situations,
and that puts our lives in danger.”
Muszar and Yeoman, best friends, both plan to retire in three years.
Yeoman, on the job for 28 years, started with Lawrence Township
before it merged with the Indianapolis department in 2011. He earned a
bachelor’s degree from Purdue University and got his teaching license,
but eventually decided to follow in the steps of his father, who had
been a West Lafayette firefighter.
As the older veterans talk about their careers, they like what they
see in the younger firefighters coming up. Petroff has two years on the
job, and Lewis has one. They’re quiet, confident, very good at their
jobs, and respectful toward the veterans.
This Job is About Helping People
On the way back to the station from a run, everyone’s relaxed—no red lights, blaring horn and sirens now.
Muszar and Yeoman are teasing each other over their headsets, with
the backsteppers listening in over the background of radio calls. Muszar
has a love of corny dad jokes, and the two younger guys in the back
roll their eyes.
Later on, as the clock nears midnight and members of the crew try to
grab some sleep before the next call, Yeoman relaxes in a chair on the
patio next to the station’s giant bay doors and says he’ll miss some of
this.
“I look forward to coming to the firehouse,” he says. “This job is about helping people, and there’s a fun, family bond here.”
(I sold my motorcycle today and felt a little sad. I've owned a lot of bikes, but this one was easily one of the best, and it made me think of a piece I wrote once about the joy of motorcycling...)
First Ride of the Season Day
If we ever needed another holiday, my vote would be for
“First Ride of the Season Day” for getting out of the house on a bicycle,
skateboard, horse, hang-glider, motorcycle or anything fun after a season of
snow and cold.
I celebrated my own First Ride on Feb. 25, heading north on
Interstate 69 from the exit near Community North Hospital in Indianapolis on a
Honda Shadow, a middleweight Harley-looking motorcycle, low and lean, black and
gleaming chrome. I slipped into the northbound afternoon rush hour traffic at
just over 70 mph on the 10-lane highway. The First Ride requires no particular
destination, and the interstate is the safest place you can be on a bike, for
my money: There are no deadly intersections or cars suddenly turning in front
of you, just a good place to wind out the engine and air out the soul, even for
only half an hour.
Motorcycling requires a lot of focus, even while you’re
relaxing. It’s far
more dangerous than driving a car, and the people who ride the most
usually wear excellent protective gear, ride sober, and think about safety. As
with pilots, there are old riders and bold riders, but few old, bold riders.
I use “riders” as opposed to bikers as a default because it’s
an all-inclusive term, of which “bikers” are a subset. The biker image is one
of the most recognizable icons in America - the leather-wearing,
hard-living motorcycle guys (often men), whose rumbling machines are so
distinctive. Harley Davidson is the largest
selling motorcycle brand, but at only 30 percent of sales, it is
far outnumbered by Honda, Yamaha, Kawasaki, Suzuki, and other bikes. And
old-school bikers look down on many of the newest Harley riders, so called
“Rich Urban Bikers” who don’t actually ride much and are thought to own their
machines just to occasionally look cool astride a hog.
Real riders, on the other hand, yearn for the open road.
Indy’s BMW club, which I joined for a while after buying a K1200 RS, includes
owners who think nothing of a quick group ride for a camping trip in the next
state – or much further. They dress for safety, often work on their own bikes
and live to ride, meaning they’ll get out for a head-clearing cruise down the
interstate, if nothing else; or maybe a 50-mile lap around the I-465
Indianapolis perimeter just to feel the wind.
You can spot the different types of riders by what they’re
piloting. There are “cruiser” bikes, a classic style most popular from
the 1930s to the 1960s, with a relaxed riding position, a low seat and an
emphasis on comfort. Honda cruisers, like my Shadow Aero, aren’t regarded as cool
by some folks, but they’re extremely affordable and reliable, with shaft
drive (instead of a chain, which must be lubricated and maintained), and a
long-lasting, liquid-cooled engine. What the practical riders know is that once
you’re on the road, reliability and comfort matter most of all. The choppers
of “Easy Rider,” the most famous biker film of all, look cool but would be
excruciatingly bone-jarring rides to actually take on a cross-country trip –
all style, no suspension.
“Standard” bikes come in all engine sizes but look
different, with the rider sitting upright instead of leaned back, as on a
cruiser.
Sport bikes place an emphasis on engine performance and
handling. They’re the fastest, often favored by younger riders, and are ridden
in a forward leaning position that’s uncomfortable for more than 40 minutes. But
they’re fast, sometimes fatally so, and often known as crotch rockets.
Baggers are heavy touring bikes – the Honda Goldwings,
larger BMWs, and other road bikes with detachable, suitcase-like bags for
travel. They’re the heaviest bikes - often 700 pounds, twice the weight of a
little commuter bike. They typically feature the most radios and other
technology, and are ridden by the oldest riders.
While many motorcyclists prefer full-face helmets with
tinted visors, it’s not hard to get a look at who’s riding as a group.
Statistics from the Motorcycle
Industry Council show a growing number of female and
college-educated riders, but bikes are still a niche – only 8 percent of
households have a motorcycle. And the most recent data shows:
-81
percent of owners are men.
-Their
median age is increasing, to age 50.
-Sixty-eight
percent are married.
-Fewer
than a quarter have college degrees.
Riders in a hurry take the passing lane, but I prefer the slow
lane, enjoying the clouds, and countryside, but moving with the flow, watching
the traffic for sudden lane changes, and the road for debris and potholes as we
pass through Indy’s northern suburbs. My bike has a 750 cc engine – once
considered large, but nowadays merely average. It’s easy to ride, comfortable,
extremely affordable, durable, and dependable. If it were a car, it would be a
Toyota Corolla.
Riders sometimes have difficulty describing why they love
their bikes. Imagine going down the road, sitting out on the hood of your car instead of inside, with
a clear view in any direction, smelling the trees in the summer and feeling the
cold breath of the moist low-lying air when you cross a bridge over a stream;
leaning into turns in the winding, plunging roads of the Hoosier National
Forest. Or the steady hum of the highway – you’re sitting on the engine – with
a low bass note like the far left side of a piano, a vibration to make you
forget about whatever’s wrong and just feel the right - the air, sky, rushing
road beneath your feet. You’re flying, at ground level.
Veteran riders dress for a crash ("Enjoy the ride, but dress for the slide") – heavy boots, gloves,
padded jackets and pants. Everybody goes down sooner or later, they say. My
only crash happened in South Bend when my little Honda 350 slipped on gravel in
a suburban intersection and went out from beneath me at low speed. Nothing hurt
but some bruised pride. But everybody’s had their more serious close calls. A
woman once turned left in front of me unexpectedly on a busy four-lane road
near a shopping mall, and I went into a sideways skid, slowing enough to avoid
a collision.
When riders get together, we talk about our close calls.
Here’s mine: One time I was coming down Indiana 67 south of Pendleton, a
two-lane highway that runs past the coiled concertina wire of three state
prison facilities and then joins the countryside heading toward Fortville. The
highway parallels a rail line, and on one summer day, driving a big Honda
Goldwing, I looked over to realize I was running at the same speed as a freight
train about 50 yards to my right. This is a view of a train you never see - the
engineer leaning out of the cab, practically next to you, and at the exact
speed you’re going. I was marveling at that view, thinking how this was what
riding was all about, when I glanced back at the road. Directly in front of me
was a stopped cargo van, waiting to make a left turn. At the last possible
moment, maybe half a heartbeat, I whipped around the right side of the van onto
the berm and then back onto the highway. Hitting a stopped vehicle at 60 mph would
ruin your whole day, as the old guys would say. I thought about that a lot and
remember it when I’m tempted to geek out on the views.
I think about safety all the time now and advise people
thinking about getting a bike to first take the Basic Rider Course
from the Motorcycle Safety Foundation. Riders in Indiana need a driver’s
license motorcycle endorsement, which requires a written test and a skills test
to show they can handle a bike. One of the biggest mistakes new riders make is
buying a machine too large for their ability. I know a guy who misjudged his
speed pulling a Harley Fat Boy into his garage; riding at such a low speed can
be difficult, and the giant bike tipped over with him under it. Though he
wasn’t injured he had to call his brother to come get him out.
Any motorcycle course would be better than the way I learned,
at a joint called Bob’s Surf Shop on the Gulf in Biloxi, Mississippi. I got my Mississippi
driver’s license at age 15, and that was enough to rent a small motorcycle at Bob’s,
a place that was popular with airmen from nearby Keesler Air Force Base. They
didn’t ask many questions after taking your driver’s license and the signed
copies of the waiver you didn’t read. Here’s a rough summary of my first
motorcycle lesson:
“See that key? You turn that on. OK, good. That green light?
That’s your neutral light. Be sure you’re in neutral before you start her up,
or the thing will jerk away from you. The clutch is here on the left. On your
right side is the front brake and the starter button. The gear shift is there
at your left foot – one down, four up – and the back brake is at your right
foot. Got it? OK, be careful.”
I did OK, meaning that after some practice on a nearby quiet
street I was bombing down Highway 90 along the beach. All the controls
eventually become second nature, but the only way to become a good rider is to
ride a lot. There are many low mileage, used bikes out there, sold by people who
decided maybe they didn’t want to be a rebel, after all.
They were riding for the wrong reason. It’s not about
looking cool. It’s about the First Ride of the Season, and then the rest of the
Saturdays through October, finding the back roads, the green scenery on the
Ohio River, meeting up with friends. You wait all winter for that. And then when
the snow finally melts and temps get into the 40s, you can feel it in the air –
time to gas up and take off.
Want to go for a ride? Here’s a short video
of what it’s like aboard my bike.
Journalist now serving as senior editor for an Indianapolis foundation. Specialist in digital content, public media, teaching, citizen journalism. I'm at johncstrauss@gmail.com (Thanks: Professor Dom Caristi)
