Fran

An older man refuels his motorcycle at a gas station. On the back of his top box is a hand lettered sign the says Clowns (with an arrow pointing left) and Jokers (with an arrow pointing right). In the lid of his open top case is a hand-lettered sign: GOOD GOD, MEN! YOU'RE PUBLIC AMBASSADORS FOR THE INCOMPARABLE JOY AND CRUSHING BEAUTY OF MOTORCYCLE RIDNG! EXERCISE SOME SELF-RESPECT AND SHOW SOME DIGNITY!
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An older man refuels his motorcycle at a gas station. On the back of his top box is a hand lettered sign the says Clowns (with an arrow pointing left) and Jokers (with an arrow pointing right). In the lid of his open top case is a hand-lettered sign: GOOD GOD, MEN! YOU'RE PUBLIC AMBASSADORS FOR THE INCOMPARABLE JOY AND CRUSHING BEAUTY OF MOTORCYCLE RIDNG! EXERCISE SOME SELF-RESPECT AND SHOW SOME DIGNITY!
When I was brand new to motorcycling, I went on my first ride with a (small) group. Before we left, Fran explained riding staggered in the lane, what to do if part of the group got left behind, and that he’d be right behind me, so if anything didn’t feel safe I should pull over and we’d sort it out. Afterwards he made sure to let my mom know that I seemed to know what I was doing, so she needn’t worry.

A quarter century later I mostly ride alone, but if Fran’s leading a ride, I won’t hesitate to follow. He finds great roads, he does his best to make it a great ride for everyone, he waves to every motorcycle, kid, and dog he passes, and he speaks his mind with no filter.

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