All language subtitles for Why.We.Ride.2013.BDRip.x264-ROVERS

There's a freedom about it,
there's an open-air experience.

The sun in your face, the sound
of the motor and the vibration,

the unobscured view of everything
that's going on around you.

It's a bombardment
of the senses.

I just love it,
I just enjoy being on a bike.

The cliche of
feeling the wind in your hair,

even though I don't have much
hair anymore, is very true.

It's just...
It's a wonderful feeling.

It's a built-in passion to ride a
motorcycle, no matter what it is.

It's unlike anything else
that you'll ever feel.

There's nothing in my
life that's like it.

It's part of who I am,
and what I want to be.

Motorcycle riding is such a
filter for the brain for me.

I always end up singing while I'm
riding because it's just me and my bike

and I'm just enjoying myself and not
really thinking about anything else.

Some people paint,
some people sew,

some people listen to music.
I get on a motorcycle

and that really puts
my mind at ease.

It's a high, it's a good high, and
it's one that you can get addicted to.

In a spiritual sense you could
almost say, Namaste, you know,

it's that blending of the soul
of the motorcycle and you

and it's just this
perfect moment.

Everybody that rides a motorcycle
that's been around for a while

has got a personal connection
to their motorcycle

It's a person unto itself.

We all dream
about flying.

Well, when you ride
a motorcycle, you are flying.

You're flying through space
at the twist of a throttle.

When you ride motorcycles, people
always say hi to each other, you know,

you don't see people who drive
cars waving at everybody in a car.

They all have a bond, and it's
a bond that they share by desire.

The common denominator
is two wheels.

They are people that'll bend
over backwards to help ya.

You're not going to leave a comrade on the
side of the road without offering to help 'em.

There are some of the nicest people I've
ever met, are motorcyclists, hands down.

Being a motorcycle guy cuts
across every job description,

and you identify yourself
with being a motorcyclist,

first and foremost, before you're
a doctor, before you're an actor,

before you're a newspaper
tycoon, you're a motorcycle guy.

And that really levels the
playing field with a lot of people.

So you're talking to a guy
about bikes and then you find out

that this guy's a neurosurgeon,
and you're, like,

"Huh, I thought he was just
some guy who rode a Honda. "

If you ever get on
that bike, president of a bank,

a leader of a country,
you're in.

You could get out of work
totally angry, take a little ride,

and boy you don't get two miles
down the road, and all of a sudden,

you've let go of all of that
stress, all that anxiety,

and now you're...
you're free.

In my view people
travel in bubbles, a lot.

The motorcycle gets you
out of the bubble.

We can't know where we're going
if we don't know where we've been.

In the old days, you know,
there were thousands of people

that came out to watch
the motorcycle races.

Some of the greatest riders
of all time, Ben Campanelli,

Jimmy Phillips, Bobby Hill and
Bill Tuman, and Ernie Beckman.

Ed Kretz.
Ed Kretz was my hero.

They were badass,
they were real men.

Like rodeoing,
there was no money in it,

there was no prestige in it, you
did it because you liked doing it.

I would have loved to have
been around during that era.

You know, it was just
throw it all out there.

It was a great time
in racing for sure.

It's about tradition, I
wanna keep those stories alive.

I don't want these people
to be forgotten.

I think
it's important

to preserve the lineage.

I mean, it's kinda funny,

you go out and buy
a brand-new motorcycle,

it's hard to think that that
has roots that go back to 1901.

Motorcycles literally
were, you know, bicycles

that somebody finally came up with
the idea of putting an engine in it.

Kind of like the peanut butter
and jelly story, you know.

It's like, I think maybe
these two things might work.

Of course, if you got
an engine in a motorcycle,

the next thing is
you gotta start racing it.

When racing really got going in the
U.S. was through board track racing.

Small, circular,
banked wooden track.

Literally just
strips of wood laid end to end.

And all these bicycle racings,
they used a pacer,

that they followed behind, which
was a motorized, big, clumsy bicycle.

And then the bicyclists
would actually be in the draft.

And the pacer would get to a certain speed,
peel off, and then the racers would start.

Someone came up along the way one
time, with, like, an intermission.

"Why don't we put all the pacers out on
the track, let them have their own race?"

And they did that, and I guess
it went over pretty well,

but then it wasn't long they realized
the bikes themselves could go faster,

so they made them a
little less big and bulky.

That's the premise for the
Indian Company, the Hendees.

They were bicycle racers and
created this motorized bicycle

to help set faster
and faster speeds.

Then, you know,
here came Harley-Davidson

and companies that, uh, went into
production on the whole thing.

There were more than a hundred
motorcycle manufacturers

just in the United States.

Some of the designs of some of
these engines were completely insane.

They leaked.
They smelt like a beast.

You couldn't go to the local
store and have someone work on it.

You had to have a
basic understanding of 'em.

Which means that anybody
who had these early bikes,

you know, it wasn't a
convenience, it was a dedication.

It was all about the
racing and, predominantly,

the two major bike companies
were Harley versus Indian.

And these guys were out there
with these bikes with no brakes,

going around the track,
close to a 100 miles an hour.

You've gotta be kidding me,
horrible tires, horrible chassis,

lots of horsepower, how do you
manage that stuff, you know?

Well, you just do it until you crash and
then you figure out where to go from there.

It was a very dangerous sport. If
they went off the outside of the track,

they went through the fence and flew
through the air, into who knows what.

A lot of, lot of good racers

and young men died racing.

Until Henry Ford did his thing,
cars were basically for the wealthy.

So a young enterprising man,
who was a working man,

a working family, his dream would
be to buy a motorcycle and a sidecar.

My great-grandfather, Fritzie Baer,
had a '23 Chief with a sidecar.

Brought his pregnant wife to the
hospital in a motorcycle and a sidecar,

and the newborn baby came
home... in the sidecar.

Over the next five years, she
had another three more children,

and all four of us were
brought home in that side car.

You would had to have lived
through the Depression

to know what
the period was like.

People didn't have
a lot of money.

I can remember
when a can of pork and beans

and a roll was a wonderful
meal, I'm not kidding.

Fun was hard to come by.
Entertainment was expensive.

As people got into
motorcycling and the club,

the club itself became
their entertainment.

And this club
with Fritzie running it,

there was all kinds
of things to do.

They were busy, you know,
four or five nights a week.

They went out
on these little rides.

It just went on and on.

And, of course,
back then you got dressed up.

You dress and act like a
gentleman, or you got fined.

And if you couldn't abide by
the rules...... you're out.

And people are begging
to get in.

Always had a
waiting list for members.

And then once they started
with the auxiliary,

now it became joint affairs.

Now we had boys meeting girls.

And you know
how that works out.

After the Depression,

it was hard to keep those big factory
things kinda going in those years,

and the AMA got together
with the manufacturer and said,

"Let's create a form of racing that
would be more production bikes. "

So they started this thing
called Class C.

And it was a bike that was based
on production model bikes,

and it was basically built around
Indians and Harley-Davidsons.

You can't know about racing,
you can't know about Daytona,

and not know who Ed Kretz is.

What Ed was, was really
one of the first champions

of that Class C era.
He won all the big races.

He was always
known as "Iron Man Kretz. "

He was so determined, when he got on
he was either gonna break the damn thing

or win the race, that was it.

Kretz would not stand for
anything other than total victory,

and anything other
than that was a failure.

When you look at it that way,
that's when you get very successful.

Ed tried to pass everybody,
so in case anything went wrong,

you had time to fix it and still
win. That was his idea how to race.

When Ed Kretz
finished a race,

they actually had to pry his
fingers off of the handlebars,

because he physically
couldn't do it.

He'd been holding for so long,
for the last hundred miles,

going as fast as he could, they
had to pry him off the cycle.

Dad, when he would ride, he
would just do nothing but ride,

and you could tell by looking at
him, that that's all he was thinking.

One of the things that Ed
told me a long time ago

that really stuck in my mind,
first of all,

"When everybody else is letting
up to go into the corner,

I just grabbed a handful of throttle and
that's where I would pass everybody. "

And, boy, that just...

It sounded so hairy and so bold,
but that was Ed Kretz, man.

He was the Iron Man.

Dad had a job driving
a hay truck, truck and trailer.

That's where my dad
made his money.

He loaded it by himself
and he unloaded by himself.

That's what gave him all
this upper-body strength.

Not only was he in great physical
condition, but also mentally.

He'd do 18-hour days,
20-hour days,

and then go right back in
and do it again.

He would come over on his motorcycle
and he used to do a lot of stunts

and he would stand on his head
or stand on the seat,

and just kinda showing off in
front of her, you know, and...

That's how he met my mother,
on a motorcycle.

Race, race, race, every day.

When he wasn't on the truck,
he was on the motorcycle.

Oh, she was for it, she was
always with him, always with him.

He'd take Mom, they'd ride to
where the race was gonna be,

he'd take off the headlight,

he'd take everything
off the bike,

and have it just bare,
you know, so he could race.

And so Mom would just stand
there and watch the stuff

and Dad would race,
he'd put it all back together,

they'd get on it and head home.

My father was very business,

but when it came time
to be home, he was home.

He was just there any time
you needed something,

or he would go out of his way
to help ya, you know.

We had such a good time as kids.

So many cheerful rides.

I miss it terribly.

Ed Kretz did some
pretty amazing things,

and he did it basically on the same
motorcycle. It was a little Sport Scout.

With that same bike, he won
the last Savannah, Georgia race,

which, at the time,
was a massive race.

He won the first Laconia ever
on that bike,

which is a massive race,
and he won the first Daytona.

Ed Kretz and those guys racing
at Daytona, on the sand?

Seriously? Who does that?

I mean, and how do they go
that fast? I wanna know.

And then Daytona become the biggest
race of the year for motorcycling.

The real tough part
about Daytona,

which would put most of
the people out of the race,

was either coming down the straightaway
and going into the north turn,

you started getting into
the loose, chopped-up sand,

and then also transitioning
from the sand onto pavement,

you know, you got the little sandy
stretch there, where you've got pavement

with sand all over it and there's a lot
of guys spinning out, coming through that,

or where they'd stuck in a
little rut and everything,

and then same thing
at the other end.

The beach course went
from when Ed won in 1937

and it went through 1960.

Ed's winning Daytona,
it was a big deal.

From that point forward, that
beach has never been the same.

It's motorcycling history.

You know, I feel so fortunate
that I'm a person who was there,

when some of these fellas won,
riding on the beach.

Daytona kinda paved the way
that you were a road racer.

It's the ultimate test
of man and machine.

Two hundred miles, flat out,
as hard as you can go,

and may the best man win.

You know, you see it on TV and you
don't realize just how big that place is.

It's the first race of the year,
everyone's got all these expectations

of what's gonna happen.

That was the race, I mean, if you
could win Daytona, that was the race.

There's a certain air that surrounds
it that to me is a bit magical.

It's like you get to be a part of
something a lot bigger than yourself.

The history and the vibe and
the feel around the race track.

If you can get your name in that
history book, that's a pretty big deal.

Tradition is everything and the
Daytona 200 is one of those ones,

it's like you gotta chalk it up. You've
gotta win the Daytona 200, it's the ultimate.

It's every racer's dream to
get up on the banks of Daytona.

To sit in the grandstands and
feel those motorcycles fly by you,

then to hear their exhaust and
everyone cheering, and... It's a blast.

It was huge. I mean, I won the 200.
Not too many people can say they have.

My father won the race in 1948,
but to this day we still remain

the only father and son
to have won Daytona.

It's definitely my proudest
moment, winning the Daytona 200.

I was probably six years old
when I saw a minibike,

and, I mean, I was
hooked right then.

I saw somebody riding down the
road on a motorcycle, and I was,

as the Brits say, gobsmacked,
I just... and that was it.

My brother had a minibike when
he was about ten years old,

and I was forbidden to ride it,
and so I made it my life's mission

to be able to ride that bike.

I'm want to say that I was about ten or 11
the first time I put a leg over a minibike.

- I was 16.
- Fifteen or 16.

- Thirteen years old.
- Twelve.

Eleven years old.

- Eleven years old.
- Ten years old.

- Six or seven.
- Five years old.

Five. It was just
a little minibike.

Minibike. Minibike. Minibike.

My dad hit it lucky in Vegas

and bought my brother a car
and bought me a Whizzer.

- CZ 125.
- S90 Honda.

- Suzuki DS 80.
- YZ 80 Yamaha.

- ATC 70.
- CZ 250.

- PW50.
- It's called a Taco.

- Honda 50.
- A little scooter, it was called a Corgi.

We weren't rich or nothing,
so I built a minibike

out of a bicycle frame
and a lawnmower motor.

With a lawnmower engine,
Briggs & Stratton.

Back in the day you put the rope
on it and pull it.

I don't think it had a name,

I think somebody built it
in their garage.

We need to rename what we
called motorcycles back then.

They should have been renamed, you know,
"the things that we hid from our parents. "

When I was young, my dad didn't want me
to have anything to do with motorcycles.

They absolutely did not approve
of me riding a motorcycle.

- "That's for bad people. "
- OK... but I'm riding.

My mom didn't know
when I bought my first bike,

I kept it at my friend's house down
the street. That's such a cliche.

I've run into so many people
that could tell that same story.

We're in the St. Helene's parking
lot, thank God it was a church,

and, uh, that's where
I popped my first wheelie,

because I hadn't
learned the clutch yet.

And I panicked, got whiskey throttle,
next thing I knew, I took off.

Boom-bity boom-bity boom,
across the field.

How do you stop it,
how do you stop it?

And the first time I got on it they just told
me to take off, so I took off, hit a tree.

Went wide open into the chainlink
fence, wrapped all up in it.

And it was a house down there,
and we hit the corner of the house.

It had no brakes. The only way
we could figure out how to stop it

was to run it into my
dad's work truck.

So we didn't have it very long.
He took that away.

I think it's like trying to
learn how to play a violin.

It's just hideous and then
all of a sudden it's like,

"Oh, my God, I know how
to ride this thing now. "

I mean, I literally rode it
for about a minute and a half,

and I went, "OK,
I have to do that. "

The first time
I rode that little minibike,

I just felt like
I could do anything.

I was so excited to know that I was
going to ride my bike the next day,

and I still feel
that today, every day.

I just hope to God that I can
always have the sensation,

and I guess when I'm not, I'll be talking
and dreaming about it all the time.

I'll be taking a lot of naps
just so I can see it in my dreams.

I met Bret and I went home
that day and I said,

"Just to let you guys know,
I met my future husband. "

Sharing my
passion with the person that

I'm gonna spend the rest of my
life with, means the world to me.

I used to race out
of Willow Springs WSMC.

I was out there
minding my own business,

and then he asked me
out to dinner and I said no.

But she was really hungry,
so she went.

So I relented when I realized
I'd spent all my money on tires,

and I was like, "Well, at least
I'll get a meal out of this. "

I actually met my wife
at a race track.

I met her at, uh, at Little
Talladega Gran Prix Raceway.

We met at the snack stand,
she was working there,

serving hamburgers, and I ate
about 15 hamburgers that weekend.

I took my then girlfriend, now my
wife, up in the San Joaquin Valley.

We stopped at a little stand
to pick some cherries.

As I'm riding down my motorcycle,
she's biting the cherry,

pulling the pits out
and feeding them to me.

I'll still remember that
to this day. Uh...

It was just one of the most
romantic things we've ever done.

Motorcycling has
a very bad reputation.

When my grandpa
first got involved,

they'd pull up to restaurants,

they'd pull up to hotels,
and they wouldn't be allowed in.

You'd pull up on a bike and
they'd turn the sign around.

Pretty much you were
considered an outlaw.

It goes way back to, what was that
movie, The Wild One, with Marlon Brando,

when bikers were bad, you know. You wore
black leather and you took over the town,

and you ran the sheriff off,
and attacked the women.

They didn't like the motorcycles
there for a long time.

And, of course,
along come Honda.

There was
a great PR campaign

that Honda did at that time,
and it was,

"You meet the
nicest people on a Honda. "

It changed a lot
of the image back again.

And that kinda brought
it more into the mainstream,

suddenly it's the moms and
dads, the kids next door,

and the neighbor
down the street.

People just
started buying these things,

because they were accessible,
they didn't have to go and buy,

you know, a six-, seven-
800-pound motorcycle.

They were smaller,
they were lighter,

they were nicely designed.
They were damn cute.

It was a good move, I think
somebody at Yamaha was like,

"We shoulda went with
the nice people thing. "

Everybody could ride a Honda,
a little Honda.

God.

Almost everybody that learns to ride
was taught by their friend or neighbor,

you know, and whatever false
information, misinformation,

bad habits that friend or neighbor had
are passed on from learner to learner.

We come equipped with a certain
number of survival reactions.

We do something like put our
hands out to cushion a fall,

whereas if you roll,
you won't break your wrists.

There are about eight or nine of these
responses that we have to situations

that are just a little bit
out of our control.

Each and every one of these are contrary
to what you should be doing at that time.

The California Superbike School
is a running research project

on how to understand
and control a motorcycle.

Now it's expanded into
about 50 different areas,

where we can make corrections
on specific areas of skill

and control of the motorcycles.

Street riding is great,
but track riding is way better.

It's so much more fun because you don't
have all of the distractions, restrictions.

A student we had up
at Sears Point, up in Sonoma,

26 years he'd been riding,
ridden 1.2 million miles.

At the end of the day he said, "You know,
I thought I had 26 years of experience,

now I realize I had one year
of experience 26 times. "

It's so fulfilling, there is no
other job better than this.

Motorcycles are what taught me
everything about how things work.

Tearing down the motor
on my first Honda CL-90

and not being able to put it
back together.

I had a handful of cafe racers, none
of which really resonated with me

until I built my first Indian,

and that was a 1926 Indian that
I built with my grandfather.

You nurture it, you love it,
it grows, you develop it,

you restore it,
and then finally it's done.

It was a great experience to hang out with
your grandfather and work side by side with him.

We started collecting motorcycles about
the same time we started making wine.

One became a hobby
and one is a business.

We appeal to
a different crowd.

The motorcycle riders, they have
a different spirit about 'em,

and they usually have an
appreciation for the arts.

Being an artisanal winery,
it goes hand in hand.

It's people
from all walks of life.

We all share the same
passion, same desire,

to bring these older bikes
back to life

and to really admire the
simplicity of them, the lines.

The old bikes just have
this character to 'em.

The feeling of firing
a vintage bike is unique.

There is no electric start, you
don't push a button and they go.

You may have to kick it, you may
have to play with the carburetor.

It's very emotional to get one of those
bikes running and hear the open exhaust.

And they sound incredible.

Anyone that's out there
that has a motorcycle,

you always try to customize it,
make it yours,

whether you buy one right
off the showroom floor,

whether you buy
a used one off of somebody,

most people want to add a little
something to it to make it their own.

You customize
your bike 'cause it's personal.

People don't like to be like
everybody else exactly, you know.

And it's not just here in
the U.S., we see it worldwide,

we see it in Europe, we see it throughout
Asia. People want to be noticed.

The most
reward that people get from it

is a slap on the back
at the bar when they went off

and had bragging rights
and showed off their bike.

They're all extensions
of our own personality.

Helmets are a great
canvas to experiment with.

I get to reach into the soul
of the athletes and the racers,

and, you know, feel what
they're feeling hopefully

and then transfer that
onto their helmet.

What I try to do and push
all of my artists

is to give them something
they're not expecting.

We're art-driven company and
it's gotta be something they go,

"Wow," you know, and I'm OK for
half the people out there to go,

"I would never wear that,
you know. "

I want it to be the piece
that people talk about.

Back in the day when I
started shooting bikers,

there was a directness
that I felt,

that they were experiencing
life in a big way.

I like culture
and I like character,

and bikers are full
of character and full of life.

I don't know how many times I've ridden with
him, and he's riding with no hands and shooting.

Now, of course, that's not
the safest way to be shooting.

The back of a two-wheeled
motorcycle works great,

and so, I know in the last few years I've
done more then 10,000 miles backwards.

I have a photograph of somebody
riding through a storm,

I call the photograph
"Storm Rider. "

And I've seen bikers and they
grab their girlfriend and they say,

"Do you remember that? That's me. I
came back and I told you all about it,

that's me in that photograph. "

I think it brings back for them

that feeling of
riding through a storm,

and feeling the elements and
feeling the beauty around them.

People see themselves in it.

- Everything happens in California first.
- Saddleback Park.

- Orange County Raceway.
- Hopetown.

- LACR.
- Muntz Park.

- Ontario Motor Speedway.
- Big Bear Hare and Hound.

- Bay Mare.
- The coolest place in the world, that was Indian Dunes.

That's were we started
promoting our first races.

But it was the first place
that everybody remembers.

I spent probably five
days a week out there.

- It was just a way of life.
- A lot of families out there,

everybody would come out and
more like a potluck-type thing,

and build a big bonfire
and have a good time.

Indian Dunes
had something else.

It had a river running down through it,
it had the hills, it had the sand wash.

There was some vibe that the
other places just didn't have.

In the '70s, the club racing scene in
California was good, it was really, really good.

It didn't take too long
of riding a motorcycle,

where I discovered I could do
this better than my friends could.

And I rode it and it ran great,

and I rode it, and he goes, "That
kid's gotta go on the racetrack. "

My fondest memories for sure
are racing motorcycles.

Everybody is your friend when we're
on the track with the camaraderie,

and also the competition, because when
we have our helmet on, we're racing.

Racing to me makes everything
else I do easy.

Because racing is one of the
toughest things in the world.

There's some guys,
the competitive spirit in them

is so intense,
they have to race.

There's no getting away from
it, it becomes part of your life,

it gets in your blood.

If you're
looking up to anybody,

they're gonna beat you
on the racetrack,

so you can't look up to anyone.

Growing up, I was always really
competitive at everything I did,

having four brothers.
As soon as I got on a racetrack,

if there's someone in front of
you, you want to pass 'em.

I can see a corner
and I can imagine the line

of how that turn
needs to happen,

and then on the first try I
can go out and make that happen.

When I did my first race it was
like that moment, you know,

where the angels sing, and you realize
this is the thing that makes me happy.

Hillclimbing has been
going on since the 1920s.

It's a time trial, so
you're basically competing

against yourself and the clock.

Making the hill is one thing,
but you gotta make it fast.

Fastest person to the top wins.

You don't really have
anybody else around you

and you just go for it.

You're
running very hard up the hill

and to have
a lot of obstacles,

a lot of jumps,
a lot of cliff faces.

You gotta know
how to take turns,

you gotta know how to hit jumps
like on a motocross track.

It's not you against the other
guy, it's you against a mountain.

It's pretty crazy.

A lot of our
hills are incredibly steep,

some of them are past vertical,

and when you tell somebody
that you're going up a hill

with a motorcycle that's past vertical,
they're going, "No, that's not happening. "

Well, it is.

The first time
up and over is just awesome.

You just want to turn around
and yell at everybody.

All of our
bikes are all handmade.

A lot of the classes you
have kind of free reign

on choosing either chains,
or bolts, or disc paddles.

Putting your leg over a
220-horsepower, nitro-injected bike

with steel spikes on the back
of it, driving it up the hill,

it scares a lot of people.

X Climb got started
up in Northern California.

The gate drops, and you battle bar-to-bar
all the way to the top of the hill,

which is something
new to the sport.

It's my release, it's my
medicine in this crazy world.

Bonneville is like being
on the surface of the moon.

Bonneville changed my life.

Bonneville.
That one word

sends chills up
people's spines.

This is it,
this is the Holy Grail,

everybody in the
world knows Bonneville.

You're on this fast,
smooth, white surface

that's flat in every direction.

Salt stuck to everything,
the cycle was covered with it.

Well, I went one time
and I got the salt fever.

You have to experience lining
up, to know what it's all about.

Butterflies, always, always,
filled with butterflies.

Sometimes you forget
to put it in gear.

All the old-timers say when
you're at the starting line,

you can feel the spirit of all the
people that were there before you.

You feel everybody's
spirit there.

And I'm like, "Yeah, yeah, yeah, yeah,"
and so I get up there to the line,

and I'm like,
"Wow, this is incredible. "

It still kind of gets me.

And the fastest man has gone
on the planet was right there.

It's you and your
motorcycle, that's it.

You're not racing
next to someone,

you're not rushing
to get off the light.

When you're ready you take off.

Bonneville is a 10-mile course,

and you're at full speed, 200 miles
per hour, for three or four miles.

It's a very powerful
place to be.

Everything goes
into slow motion.

I get to turn it wide open and hold
it as long as I think I can do it.

You look at these guys today,
they're the same mindset

of the guys that were flying
the P-51 Mustangs and Corsairs.

It's that seat-of-the-pants,
"tell me how to start the thing

and I'll figure out the rest. "

Chuck Yeager,
did the guy have a clue

what was gonna happen on the
other side of the sound barrier?

He didn't. Did it matter? No.

It's like going to Bonneville,
it's the same thing.

It becomes a really personal
thing with your motorcycle.

To go that fast you
need to be one with the bike,

be the paint, be a sponge.

I came to a point with
that first bike that I raced,

that I didn't know if it
was the bike holding me back

or me holding the bike back.

So we started switching
around motorcycles,

and found out I could go
a little faster, but...

So I just, um, took off,
twisted the throttle

and took off and got a land speed
record in the first two passes.

My first land speed record
was set on a 1946 Indian Chief,

and that bike is still ready, sitting
and waiting to go get another record.

We've had the 1000cc turbo
charge record since last year.

By the end of last year,
we had it at 245,

this year we went back
with some changes in September

and we set the record at 262.4,

which is now the fastest sit-on
motorcycle record in the world.

Setting the record this year
is a phenomenal thing.

People say, "What's it like
to be the fastest in the world?"

I said, "Well, that and $3.95 gets
you a cup of coffee at Starbucks. "

On the way home after that
first year, after they saw it,

I said, "Well, what do you think, girls,
is that something you'd want to try?"

And before I had it out of my mouth,
they were like, "Yeah, we want to do it. "

It's kinda hard sitting on the sidelines and
just watching when you're a bike freak too.

First of all you either have to
either have a mom crazy enough

to let her daughters do it,
or vice versa.

And we became the first
mother-daughter-daughter trio in history

to hold records
at the same time.

It's so amazing that
her kids can do what she does,

and, you know, they have
fun at it. All of 'em do.

I think there's something about riding
a motorcycle that's really empowering.

I really like riding my own
a whole lot better

than I ever liked riding
on the back of a motorcycle.

The difference between being a passenger
and being a rider is everything.

I mean, most of fellas today who
ride, they want their women to ride.

Being a wife,
and a worker, and a mother,

when I get on my bike,
the wind just kind of takes it.

I mean, you see two bikes in a
row, one's a guy, one's a woman.

Women and racing
has come a long ways.

There's more women riding now and a
larger percent of them are going racing.

And they would get on these bikes
that would scare some normal men.

Well, there's all those great women
that have paved the way for us.

I didn't think of 'em
as men and women,

I just wanted to race.

Women, you know,
20, 30 years ago

that wanted to get into racing,
they faced actual real barriers.

I wanted to ride with the
guys on the track and beat 'em,

but I couldn't, because
women didn't do it then.

You say I can grow up to be anything I
want to be, I can do anything I want to do,

so why is there a line
drawn in the sand?

You definitely see
a lot more women out there now,

trying it, and encouraging
other women to do it.

Oh, women are taking over. I say five, ten
years, they'll be more women riding than men,

because women are tougher,
you know.

I learned that I needed to slide
the bike without using brakes,

'cause every time you'd use the brakes
to skid around, it'd slow you down.

You know, I didn't want that, I
wanted to stay fast all the time.

Flat track racing is probably
one of the best places

to build that skill set, because
it's all about controlling traction.

I was in Indianapolis the first
year they had MotoGP there,

and they had the Indie Mile,
which is a famous dirt track race,

and they took the MotoGP riders
to see the dirt track riders,

and they were like, "That's
crazy, how are they doing that?"

That's where so many successful
road racers have come from.

The American racers
like Kenny Roberts,

they always had to do both
so they could ride dirt track.

Because of the dirt track experience,
I started hitting my knee on the ground.

You talk to any one of
these guys and they'll tell you

the reason why they became
a good Grand Prix rider,

is because sliding a motorcycle
didn't intimidate them.

I started winning. At that point,
I just started winning races,

so everybody is now trying
to play catch-up.

That's where the whole back wheel
sliding thing kind of took off.

Yeah, Kenny was
a pioneer in a lot of ways.

And when I got to Europe,
it kind of multiplied.

He was the guy that just went over
there and showed those Europeans,

"Hey, us Americans can
ride motorcycles, too. "

People are fascinated
to watch a racer drag a knee,

and now they're dragging elbows.

You know, when I drag my elbow,
it's part of the crash.

Every sport
has its pinnacle,

football, it's the
National Football League,

in baseball, it's
Major League Baseball.

Motorcycle racing,
the pinnacle is MotoGP.

Over in Europe,
it's huge.

It's the most evolved,
most technically advanced

motorcycles in the world, and
arguably the best riders in the world.

Every rider
wants to be in that show.

I don't think the talent is
any less than it was years ago,

but the bikes have become
so technical today,

that it really
requires a completely

different type of a rider
to master the bikes,

because you're mastering electronics
now as well as mechanicals.

I wanted
to have the world,

and going round it is
one way to do that,

and I was thinking should I do it
on a donkey or a skateboard or...

...or something, and I thought a motorcycle
would be a really good way to do it.

That was when everything
in my life changed completely.

I was quite sure nobody
had ever done it,

because I didn't know anybody who
rode bikes, and there was no Google.

I'm neither brave nor strong,
and so I realized

that you don't need strength and
bravery to be able to do this,

you just need the
determination to do it.

It got rid of
all my anxieties.

I can't think of a better way
of changing your life

than to lose fears
and anxieties, I mean,

that's the...
that's the main thing.

I wasn't counting miles, I
wasn't even counting countries,

I was just going
'round the world.

There were people where there
shouldn't have been any.

I was like Lawrence of Arabia
coming out of the desert.

So I had these very immediate
and intense relationships

with people all the way around, and
carried stories from one to another.

I don't know how I can convey
the sheer excitement

that I was feeling almost the whole
time about being able to do this.

It's the interruptions that are
the journey, not where you're going.

I swear that never
in those four years

did I ever wish
that the journey was over.

I really wasn't suited
to being home.

I was more comfortable
on the floor than in a bed.

I couldn't do small talk.

I couldn't believe
what was obsessing people.

The problems they were having
seemed be absurd, you know.

Why were they worried
about that?

Things weren't going
right for them,

they were getting
in all sorts of turmoil.

And I thought, it's... nothing.

You're alive,
what else do you need?

I have great trouble coming
to terms with social media.

I simply don't understand
how people have the time

to be so involved in
the lives of so many people,

and I can't imagine how their
interest in those people

can be anything
but superficial.

The advantage of the technology
in this world

is that if you have a really
good idea about what it is

you want to achieve, the technology
can generally make it a lot easier.

The disadvantage is that
having all this technology

probably doesn't encourage
people to have

very great ideas
about things to do,

because it's so easy to just
swim along with the current.

So I went on home from Vietnam. I was
depressed and I was miserable and I was angry,

like a lot of us, and I
just couldn't settle down.

It was nobody's problem
but my own.

And I looked at Israel as a
country that had something together,

they had just fought the
1973 war, the Yom Kippur War.

And, uh, and I said,
"I want a part of that. "

I served two years,
and then I went on to be

in the Rhodesian Light Infantry,
then I went on to South Africa.

I served in a special
organization,

the parachute brigade called
the Pathfinder Company.

August 29th, 1981, about
100 miles up inside Angola,

we were in light vehicle
operations and, uh...

...the light vehicle I was in,
was a Toyota Land Cruiser,

which was a firing platform for heavy
machine guns, 250-caliber Brownings.

And, um, the left rear
wheel of that vehicle

- initiated a Soviet-made
TM-57 anti-tank mine.

When that mine went off, the last thing
I ever heard in my left ear was "pop,"

and I watched
the vehicle going away.

And I said to myself,
"We've hit a mine, I'm dead,

and I'll be answering for my
life in front of God very soon. "

Well, God had other ideas.

And I was transported down
to one military hospital,

Pretoria, South Africa
in a medevac transport,

where I was to spend the next
nine months and 18 days.

During that time,
I underwent 20 operations.

All right. And it left me...

And four of those operations
were amputations,

which left me with
my right leg off...

...above the knee,

and my left leg off just below.

I got out of the Army, and
I went home to my mom and dad.

After a very touching reunion, I was
out in the garage having a reunion

with something to that
time now I'd owned ten years,

and that was a 1972
Harley-Davidson Wide Glide.

Within a few days, my dad and I,
we had it out of the mothballs,

we had it cleaned up, we
had it all put back together,

and we knew we were gonna have to fix
the rear brake for the mechanical knee.

So we extended the brake pedal,
we put overload springs on it,

my dad welded a stirrup
on that pedal,

where my foot would sit
on the brake all the time.

The overload springs compensated
for the weight of the leg,

and the idea was, when I was
driving, I would push on the stump,

that would push on the leg,
that would push on the brake,

that would stop the motorcycle.

And it works most of the time.
Ask my passengers.

And I got out to the freeway,
and I just let go.

And I cannot tell you
the wonderful feeling

of being on that machine,

after four years overseas

in some of the most hateful,
angry places

this world has to offer,
you know, and all of the sudden

I'm moving on my machine again.

What I felt was something
that was so far beyond words,

I can't tell you, you know.

And all of a sudden something hit
me in the top of the head and say...

It was a vision.

It said, "Why don't you ride...
you need to ride this thing

around the world for those that
are more unfortunate than you,

especially in the Third World
countries where they don't have access

to positive examples, like
we do in the United States. "

I left in the
rain, for western France...

- ... across Northern Europe...
- Three days later I made it to the Atlantic Ocean...

- ... Russia, Siberia...
- ... to the UK, and from there...

I went north to the Arctic.

- And headed east...
- Tanzania, Burundi, Rwanda...

...and onto Tunis, the
North Cape, Marseilles...

The bottom of one continent,
to the very top of the other.

And rode back into this
driveway, into this garage,

and the journey
around the world,

three years, seven months,

83,000 ridden miles, was over.

That was to be the establishment
of a Guinness World Record,

something that no one in
recorded history had ever done,

and it had nothing
to do with my disability.

I am 160 percent disabled
and I did what no one's done.

It became more than
a motorcycle.

It was a vehicle for me
to take an idea

about commitment and attitude,

and rising above,
out to the world.

Each motorcycle has its
own soul. They're alive.

I still find it incredible that I
can push that motorcycle out here,

and hit a button,
and it goes, vroom!

Once you get out of the town,
out on some country road,

putting along and taking in all that
energy from all the trees budding,

all the bright greens coming
in, it's... it's awesome.

I love riding first thing in the
morning when the sun's coming up.

It's a magic time, the light's warm and
inviting, and the air is crisp and clean.

I can't imagine a
better way to experience that

than on a beautiful motorcycle.

There's a love and a passion
that can bring people together,

they can have incredible rides,
incredible experiences,

incredible adventures, but there's
always that one common bond.

You're riding down the road,
there's another biker,

and suddenly you guys decide
this next leg, this 350 miles,

you're going
to do it together.

You may have just found
a friend for life.

A lot of times
when a guy buys a motorcycle,

there's nothing more
then he wants to meet someone

and find a buddy to ride with.

You just roll in
on a motorcycle,

amongst other cyclists, and
they treat you like an equal.

You can go to the
Rock Store on a Sunday and see

a wide swath of
demographics of people.

Everybody that's in motorcycling,
they're there because they wanna be.

They love it, and they
understand that love

when they run into
another motorcycle rider.

Your point of reference is always
with the people that you're meeting,

and the place where you are,

and I think there is a degree
of respect that comes from that.

Bike night is a night
where there'll be a place,

it might be a restaurant,
might be a bar,

might be a coffee shop,
might be a parking lot,

and for whatever reason,
bikers meet there.

You park your bike, you talk
bikes with other people,

you plan rides,
maybe go out for a ride.

You know what I love about
going to a bike night?

I don't have to explain why
I have four motorcycles.

A lot of that heart and soul
of the motorcycling community

comes from the gatherings,
and you get everybody together,

you think, really, could you put
customizers in with road racers?

Are they really gonna
talk to each other?

Come to find out the common
denominator of two wheels

is so much deeper than any
of us could have ever guessed.

We all do indeed
share the same passion.

I think some of these
club events to me,

they're the real heart and soul
of the sport and the hobby.

My husband's in a motorcycle
club. It's like a family.

They all know each other,
they all ride together,

they all they all watch
out for each other.

It's passion, passion fuels

everything about motorcycling,

and camaraderie is the glue
that holds it all together.

When they come to a major event,
like Daytona,

there's a connection and I think
they lack that the rest of the year.

The first Daytona Bike Week I ever went
to, I was just like, "What is this?"

I just couldn't believe the sheer number
of motorcycles and motorcycling people.

All brands, all styles,
all ages.

If you look in that scene in Star
Wars, the bar scene, that's Bike Week.

I enjoy going to Daytona, but for me
Sturgis is... Sturgis is my homecoming.

Sturgis is Mecca
for motorcycles.

If you own a motorcycle
you have to come here

at least once,
if not all the time.

Upwards of a half a million
people having a good time.

Sturgis is a lot of different
things to a lot of different people.

To some people it's where they take
their vacation every single year.

This year will be
the 41st year in a row.

To some people it's
an opportunity

to meet up with friends who
they don't see any other time.

We have a big
block party every year.

People come visit us
from all over the place.

It's a good time
surrounded by motorcycles.

For some people,
it's about the racing.

Sturgis started out as racing,
but it stayed successful

because the riding in
the Black Hills is fabulous.

To me it was made
for motorcycling.

I think there's a reason why
Native Americans held it sacred.

There's something about the Black
Hills that is absolutely magical.

Guys come in
from all over the country.

Over 30
different nations.

Getting there is just beautiful.

We go and ride with friends
from all over the country,

sometimes the world, we've got buddies
from Italy and Australia riding with us.

You're almost sorry
sometimes when you arrive,

because the ride's over.

Every time you get on a
motorcycle you feel grateful.

You just feel grateful that
you've got the ability

to get on a motorcycle
and go be free.

And I think with a
lot of that gratefulness

comes the thought of, you know, I
should be doing something about this.

Let's help.

I just think it's a byproduct
of how the bike makes you feel.

The motorcycle community
is the most open, inviting

community that I've ever known.

They're always
raising money for charities,

and almost every time they get together,
they're doing something for somebody else.

There's millions of motorcycles
come together for different toy runs,

for burn camp runs,
cancer runs, you name it.

It's a spirit thing,
and to be charitable, uh,

it comes from within,
it comes from the soul,

it comes from the spirit, and
I think that's a common thread

is that a lot of
us ride motorcycles.

Once we started getting records, we
got opportunities to go speak to women,

and I got a chance to speak
at a troubled girls' home

in Mitchell called
the Abbott House.

It's a residential treatment
facility for girls ages 7-17,

and I spoke to these girls
and got hooked on 'em,

and I thought, what if we
take a damaged motorcycle,

literally parallel to what's
happening in their lives,

into the classroom, and help
them face and repair the damage,

transform it into
something incredible,

which is what they're doing
with their lives.

And the Abbott House gave
me a chance to do that.

Now I wrote a curriculum
in my kitchen,

and have other places licensing, so
we've got, like, five of them running now.

Mert's Hands is a nonprofit group
where I'm able to take donations

and then help people
that can't afford a hand.

This attention that he's put
into these prosthetic devices,

ways to find amputees
to get back on motorcycles

and go out and feel the wind
again in their face,

is just, you know, if that isn't
passion, I don't know what is.

Jake McCullough,
he was born without a hand.

He was a guy that was trying to motocross
and the kids are making fun of him,

"What are you doing today, gimp?"
You know, and stuff like that.

And it caused him
to be real withdrawn.

And so they called me and
purchased one of my hands.

Well, in about eight months
he was on the podium.

It has completely
turned his life around.

Getting anybody back on wheels
is a real pleasure for me.

To me, going out the
to desert is such a release,

you know, you can just kind
of get away from things.

We go out there with a
bunch of recreational bikes,

usually 30, 40 people, extended
family, cousins, aunts, uncles,

and we just have a ball.

If you go
together, it's the best thing,

because you're camping together.
Everybody's involved.

Dad's putting
the gas in your bike

while Mom's making
you a sandwich.

Made a whole weekend out
of it, a whole family thing.

Nowadays there's a product
almost for everyone in the family.

You could get a dirt bike,
you could get a couple quads,

and then just all go out
and have fun.

I get all my gear and warm up
the bikes and then I'm gone.

There's nothing better than watching
your kids absolutely play all day.

All my sons and my daughter
all rode motorcycles.

We went with my dad out
to the desert, riding,

and my husband,
and we all... took off.

It was the best time ever.

Wind in your face, bugs in your teeth.

That's how you tell a happy motorcycle
rider, how many bugs in their teeth.

I love riding, it's just the
best feeling in the world.

When your children are young, you
have a chance to shape their world.

You get to tell them what's
cool and what's exciting.

Family time is always good, and when
you're in the desert barbecuing at night,

hanging around the fire pit at night,
that's always fun. That's always good times.

When a child rides, the whole
family is involved in motorcycling.

Riding motorcycles, for my son,
is more than just having fun.

In our home it is
an absolute tool

for every single avenue
in his life.

If he doesn't do well in school,
he's not gonna ride.

If he's not polite,
he's not gonna ride.

I use it as a parenting tool.
I don't know how else

I could have taught them what
they've learned on their motorcycle,

as far as challenging
themselves, and working as a team,

and handling success correctly,
and handling failure.

It's affected my kids'
eating habits.

Now he's wanting
to be a racer, so he's like,

"I'm not gonna eat that,"
you know, I'm like,

"Wow, that motorcycle is
changing his eating habits at 13."

It changed my life,
it has to change a kid's life.

My dad gave lessons
all the time to kids

all over the world
that wanted to ride a bike.

I think parents,
for the most part, are scared

of what's gonna happen to their
kids if they ride a motorcycle.

You can't just get on the
motorcycle and be a perfectionist.

Educate people to how
much fun it is to ride.

You can do a lot of things
to make it as safe as possible.

- Get him the right gear.
- Rider education classes.

The biggest thing you can do
is get 'em the right training.

We've recently started a
MiniMoto school for little guys.

A miniature, legitimate,
road race machine.

These guys
are, like, five years old,

and they are just so jazzed,

and they have race face.

I mean they...
they're going for it!

Creating safer riders

is gonna be good
for the industry,

because it keeps riders
in the industry longer.

I felt like a lot could be done with
MiniMoto racing here in the States,

to make it more known and make it
more of a way of life for people,

like it is over in Europe.

I just wanted to contribute
to the road racing scene.

If you give
kids a playground

where they can learn these
skills while they're playing,

in a racing competition or
a school or whatever you have,

an event, then the whole sport
will grow even more.

That's the best way I've actually
observed the kids improve.

Last one that we did,
the kids were blown away

with how much fun they had
and how much they learned.

It's so much fun to ride
a motorcycle.

Parents that are
involved are really jazzed,

and everybody wants
to make it grow.

Getting kids on motorcycles
is one of the coolest,

coolest, coolest, coolest
things that there is.

When I was growing up, my
favorite place was Indian Dunes.

They just don't have
places like that anymore,

and you know what, we need to
find someplace like that.

We need to recreate that feeling so we
can, you know, turn it onto our kids.

Back in '98, a stunt buddy
and I, Jimmy Roberts,

we looked at each other and said,
you know what, let's put on a race.

Let's put on a Grand Prix
like the old days.

Let's call it
"A Day In the Dirt. "

When we started A Day in the
Dirt, we wanted it to be fun.

- I love Day in the Dirt.
- You're so excited because you're going to go there,

you're going to have fun
with all your friends.

Before the truck stops,
the kids have jumped out,

running to go see what
the track looks like.

We're talking about
a Grand Prix track.

We're talking about
a good three-mile track.

So these kids humping around
and they come up and they ask

the tractor drivers
what's going on.

It's Grand Prix style racing,

where you don't actually go out
of a gate, it's a flag start.

A lot of guys
are out there, it's a big race,

a lot of people are watching
and, you know,

when you line up on the gate,
you got 20 guys to your left,

20 guys to your right, it
gets a little nerve-racking.

It doesn't matter if
you finish in 27th place,

as long as you finish in
front of your friend, you won.

Kids don't have to
worry about who's gonna win,

or who's gonna lose, or who's
gonna make the hole shot.

All these kids,
all of them get along.

Somebody's gonna win
and somebody's gonna lose,

but they're gonna come off,
and they're gonna shake hands,

and then they're gonna go roll
around in the dirt again.

It's really
cool to seem them out racing

and how good they are
at such a young age,

and even if they aren't good,
just seeing them out on the track

going two miles per hour they're still getting
out there and they're still going for it.

The last lap, you are so tired
because you get the white flag,

and you're like, "OK, just one
more," and you give it all you got,

and then when you see that
checkered flag, you're like, "Yes!"

They have a race at Day in the
Dirt called the Wild Child race.

It's really cool, 'cause you do a
lap and then your partner does a lap,

and every time you come in
you've gotta switch a wristband.

My dad helps me and then
Trevor's dad helps him.

I'm kind of nervous when Trevor comes
in and it's my turn, and it's like,

"OK, gotta do this, gotta do
this, just gotta do your best. "

It creates a friendship
between the two racers,

a bond that they'll have for the
next 30 years that they'll remember.

"I raced with Johnny in
that one Wild Child race. "

On Saturday night,
you have this big party,

and everyone goes out and they
just have fun no matter what.

Every year
we end up meeting new people

and just keep building
our family, of moto.

I'll be there just as long as
Day in the Dirt's there probably.

Probably have to bury
me out there.

Hopefully my kid
will take it over.

We have a passion and we share that
together and there's nothing like it.

Teaching your kids how to
do something that you enjoy,

and then seeing them enjoy it,
it's priceless.

I just think it's the best experience,
like a father-son riding day.

You can talk about the track
with your dad,

and he knows what you're talking
about because he's riding with you.

We don't have the most
money in the bank,

but, uh, we have
the most memories.

The day that Scout was born,
I found out

that I had advanced
breast cancer.

It was a tough battle,
just surviving.

And my husband said, "Is there
anything that you want to do?"

And I said, "Actually, I wanna
go on a motorcycle ride. "

And I was going through chemo,
and I was really, really sick.

And I just needed to get out of the
house, and I couldn't be around people...

...because my immune
system was so weak.

And he got me up
and he got me dressed,

and he put me on the back
of his bike,

and he rode me to the beach.

It was one of the absolutely
the best days of my life.

I knew that I was
gonna be OK after that.

Motorcycles made it...
made it OK for me.

You get everybody together and we're all
talking about the same stuff, experiences.

You know, that's what we're all doing with
bikes, is we're experiencing something.

Take advantage of these blessings
that we've been given with our health

and live 110 percent
in the moment.

The people that are out there
doing it, they're out there,

and they're living their lives, not
intrinsically, they're living 'em.

They're living the adventure, the
competition, the adrenaline, the excitement.

I still ride motocross, I
still ride dirt trackers.

You know, it's in my blood
and it's never left.

I ride because there's
nothing like it in the world.

It's a passion, it's something
that I absolutely have to do,

and I could never
imagine not doing it.

Whatever it is you're
passionate about,

go at it and make sure you do it
the best that you can possibly do it,

so that you're proud of what
you've accomplished with it.

Say you go out
on a track for the first time

and you're a little bit nervous,
don't be nervous, you got it.

Just believe in yourself.

Don't be scared, it's fun.

I'll help you
and I'll cheer you on.

When I see little girls racing,
it's... To me, that's awesome,

'cause I wanna see where
she is in ten years,

not even just as a motorcycle
racer, but as a person.

Some of us were born into it,

and others find it
along the way,

and it is just a love
affair like no other.

Once you try it, if you like
it, you'll never leave it.

Some people have it inside,
it's a seed,

and it's never sprouted,
but the seed sits,

and if you ever put
the water on it,

if you ever get on that bike
and you roll that throttle

and you feel the sensation,
it's done,

the seed has sprouted
and it doesn't go away,

it doesn't die till the day
you take your last breath.

So you enter this thing basically
trying to follow a trend,

but what happens is
you become a purist,

you are a biker because
the seed was always there.

It carries with it a whole
universe of experiences.

There's nothing that connects you in
that special way to an environment.

I says I've had the most interesting
and amazing and adventurous life.

I'm 87, and I'm still riding.

I'm aiming for 100, because I
don't think anybody's ever done it,

and I'm always
up to a challenge.

Like my mother taught us,
no such word as "can't. "

Two great kids,

a few good grandchildren,
great grandchildren,

what the hell else can an
old man want anyway?

The greatest memories I
got are happening right now.

They're happening right now.
I just rode with my dad today.

So, to me, this was a great day.

I totally see myself teaching my kids
if I have any, which I do want some.

Can't wait for my kid to have a
kid and we all go ride together.

He was a... not only a father,
but he was a good friend.

We did get along very good.

Motorcycles have put me in
touch with wonderful people.

As a result of that,
I have an elevated idea

about how good everybody
in the world is.

It makes you feel like you
belong in this world.

My whole life has
revolved around riding,

and the best memories of my
life are from those times.

And I would not trade
absolutely anything for those.

I remember her
telling me not long ago,

"Dad, I gotta ride the
motorcycle with you,

so I can learn to ride it,
so when you get old,

I can ride you on the back. "

What a great thing
that would be.

I took her for her first,
maybe she takes me for my last.

To share that with my
little girl like I did today,

is just wonderful,
it's just wonderful.

Motorcycles and family,
it's life.

I don't know anything
but it, we've done it...

They just go together.

The one thing I can tell you,
having lived the life I have,

tomorrow, my friend,
is promised to no one.

Kenny Roberts,
first 500cc World Champion,

and the first father to ever have
a son who is 500cc World Champion.

Mert Lawwill, I was the
national champion, in 1969.

Don Emde,
I won Daytona in 1972.

Dave Ekins, best known for opening
the trail from Tijuana to La Paz.

Al Lamb, AMA FIM
world record holder,

as the fastest man
on a sit-on motorcycle.

I'm Jason DiSalvo,
Daytona 200 winner.

I'm Joey Pascarella, I'm
the 2012 Daytona 200 winner.

I'm Josh Hayes,
AMA Superbike Champion.

Melissa Paris and
I race motorcycles.

I'm Troy Lee and I'm an artist.

Brian Klock, and my wife
and I and my daughters

own Klock Werks Kustom Cycles.

Laura Klock, I'm a
land speed record holder

on the Bonneville Salt Flats
with my daughters.

My name is Erika,
and I'm a bike freak, too.

- I'm Karlee, I'm the youngest,
and I have no fear.

Gordon McCall, and I'm
a motorcycle enthusiast.

I'm Keith Code, and I'm the director
of the California Superbike School.

I'm Judy Code, I make
people happy with my food.

Michael Lichter,
I'm a photographer.

Arlen Ness, we're in
the motorcycle business,

in almost every aspect.

Cory Ness, I'm president
of Arlen Ness motorcycles.

Zach Ness, I design and build
custom motorcycles and custom parts.

Hi, I'm Alonzo Bodden,
I'm a stand-up comic.

My great-grandfather, Fritzie
Baer, his son, Butch Baer,

Butch's children, Rick,
Timmy, and Chrissy,

and then I am
Rick's son, Michael.

Buzz Kanter, I publish
American Iron Magazine,

Motorcycle Bagger,
and Roadbike.

I'm Damian Doffo, and I'm
the winemaker at Doffo Winery.

Valerie Thompson, five-time
land speed record holder.

I'm Ernie Alexander,
I opened Indian Dunes.

Kenny Alexander,
I put on A Day in the Dirt.

My name's David Hansen, I own a company
called The Shop in Ventura, California.

Johnny McClure, I'm the
mechanic at The Shop.

Stoney Landers, I am a dad to a
bunch of kids who love to race.

Rocco Landers, I will ride
until I make it to MotoGP.

My name's Guerin Swing,
I'm a designer.

My name's Scout Swing,
I ride, that's really all I do.

I'm Taye Swing, I will ride until
these bones won't hold me up anymore.

Caleb Hawkins, I love motocross
and I love my family.

Talon Hawkins, and I like
to ride with my dad.

Jules Hawkins, and I'm
passionate about my family.

Jim Hargraves, motorcycles
and family is family unity.

I'm Anthony Hargraves, I'm in the dry cleaning
business, and we're a motorcycle family.

My name is Patty, and my family eats,
sleeps, and breathes motorcycles.

Eric Hargraves, been a journeyman
carpenter now for 15 years.

Jimmy Hargraves, I've been
racing ever since I was little.

Josh Hargraves, I'm 14 years
old and I love to ride.

Tanner Hargraves, I'm 11 years
old and I like to ride.

Zach Hargraves, and I wanna be a
pro motocross rider when I grow up.

Kerry Petersen, awarded title of Greatest
Hillclimber of all time from Dirt Rider Magazine.

Debbie Petersen, I'm married
to Kerry Petersen.

My name is Bret Petersen,
three-time National Champion.

Chelsea Saylors, 2012 Women's
Champion for the NAHA Pro Hillclimb.

Pam Saylors, administrative assistant,
Camp Pendleton Marine Corps Base.

John Saylors, and I drive
Team Petersen's big rig.

Johnnie Saylors, been
riding my whole life.

I'm Austin Fox, and I'm a professional
hillclimber on Team Petersen.

Jack Hoel, my mother and father are given
credit for starting the Sturgis Motorcycle Event.

Christine Paige Diers, I'm the Executive
Director of the Sturgis Motorcycle Museum.

Coe Meyer, and I'm the owner of Gypsie
Vintage Cycle here in Sturgis, South Dakota.

Jay Allen, I am here to carry
this tradition on.

Gloria Struck, in the Motor
Maids 67 years already.

Ted Simon, in 1973 I set out
on a motorcycle journey,

and wrote a book called
Jupiter's Travels.

I'm Donna Jean Kretz Forstall,
and I love to ride motorcycles.

Ed Kretz, Jr.
Racing was my life.

I'm Dave Barr, if you have
sense of destiny,

don't let anything stop you
from making it a reality.