Say what you want, but we’ve all got them – your road name or nickname, depending on what part of the country you live in. I’ve heard plenty of them over the years, and the best ones, as far as I’m concerned, have a great story behind them.
Anybody can buy a bike and choose a name, but there’s no fun in that.
I want to hear why the retired Army staff sergeant’s road name is Bumblebee.
Why the dude on the old Gold Wing’s name is Frankenstein.
Or that big girl on the Sportster is called Amos.
What I’m tired of is Spider. Wolf. Tiny. Red. Baldie.
Where’s the creativity? Where’s the fun?
Now, maybe you’re a Wolf, or a Spider, and if you earned that name, then that’s cool. If you just randomly picked it out, though? You gotta do better. On the other hand, what are some of the best ones you’ve heard?
Share them in the comments, and if there’s a good story behind it? Share that, too.
For me, the best nickname I can remember was an old biker I knew back in the mid-1990s named Moo Cow. We didn’t ride too often, but I’d see him from time to time in the town I was living in at the time, and one day, while we were smoking a lunchtime cigarette, I asked him about his nickname.
He started laughing, and shared the story behind his nickname…
“Well, I’d been ridin’ for a few years after I got back from Korea, and had a little Triumph I’d bought. Back in them days, parts were easy to find, but the challenge was you had to do most of your own work on bikes. The stuff that wore out I could get out of Atlanta or Jacksonville, usually.
“Well, one day, I’d noticed the brakes were wearing a bit, so I’d adjusted them and as I was finishin’ up, my old lady come out the house screamin’ about a snake on the back porch. I pretty much dropped everything an’ headed into the house, and that old rat snake about gave me a fit. I spent nearly forty-five minutes tryin’ to catch ‘em, and finally, I did. Took him out past the compost heap to the hedgerow behind my barn and let ‘em go.
“The whole time, Diane screamin’ in ma ear, worried about that damn snake. I’d tried shushin’ her, tellin’ her it wasn’t poisonous, telling her them snakes ate rodents.
“No dice.
“She was hollerin’ and about to give me a damned aneurysm.”
The old man paused, pulling on the Lucky Strike.
“Ah finally got him sorted out, and set about putting the furniture back on the porch where I’d moved it, and here come my old ridin’ buddy, John, wanderin’ if I wanted to go for a little scoot?
“Well, of course I did, and I told him so. Just needed him to give me a second, and I’d grab my things and be ready. Unfortunately, in my haste, I’d forgotten to lock down the adjusters on the Triumph’s brakes. We made it about three turns down the road, right up there at Route 14, and I had nothing for brakes, right as I was coming up into that big turn by Pole Bridge Creek.
“Long story short, I ended up goin’ off the road right there before the bridge, right in that little bottom. The downside was, it was plumb full of manure. Time I got the bike stopped, it and me was covered in cow crap.
“John had seen me struggling, and had turned around and stopped on the side of the road. He called down to me to see if I was alright, and I’d yelled that I was, ‘cept for being covered in manure. I asked if he’d ride back to the house and get the Ford so’s we could load the Triumph in it. He was back in a few minutes, and he’d brought my coveralls for me to change into, but yeah, from then on, my buddies all called me Moo Cow.”
I’d love to hear your stories of how you earned your road names. Comment down below.
