The Biker

The Biker, The Blues, And Freedom

In the early ‘70s Janis Joplin once sang the words of Kris Kristofferson’s “Me And Bobby McGee”. She lamented “Freedom’s just another word for nothin’ left to lose and nothin’ ain’t worth nothin’ but it’s free, Feelin’ good was easy Lord, when Bobby sang the blues, Feelin’ good was good enough for me, Good enough for me and my Bobby McGee”. A person cannot help but admire the happiness that someone feels with the presence of another while finding themselves on the road to the future. Circumstances be damned, there is a different definition of kindred spirit that lives between those in sync with each other, their station in life and being free. Hobos on a train, broke people on a bus going across country, parolees standing on the road outside the main gate of the big house seeing that special someone pulling up. It’s hard to beat that exhilaration when you realize you are not alone. You are just living life in a whole new world of freedom. I feel it, not always having someone with me but meeting families in places like campgrounds having nothing but each other but it’s enough for them. Strippers that climb up on stages doing a job they never dreamed of doing but giving their kid the best they can under current circumstances. Going through something with someone that’s sympatico with you is a blessing and in the song Janis pines “feelin’ good was easy Lord when Bobby sang the blues, feelin’ good was good enough for me, good enough for me and my Bobby McGee.” I had heard about a juke joint that was smokin’ hot on Cullen Street south of Houston Texas and made my way there. (photo on left) An authentic juke whose customers arrived on late Sunday afternoon after church. The entrance vestibule was made of plywood and hung on this plywood were press clippings of many a famous, legitimate blues artist, both male and female. On the other end of the vestibule was a rather dapper looking fellow standing behind a cash register. Everyone called him either Mr. G or Gino. The entrance fee was $5 (cash). You could smell something like chicken soup wafting through the air and so I asked what is that smell and the lady that seated me just said Gino Surprise. When she left the couple next to me told me that “each week Gino cooks up something good but never tells anybody what’s inside the brew until it’s time to serve. It’s always good, just his way.” The place was not eclectic at all as it was made up of middle age to older couples dressed well. Extremely friendly, many of which brought their own bottles of Jack or Gin buying set ups as they needed them. That afternoon the special guest was none other than the international blues superstar Ms. Trudy Lynn. Her Royal Oaks Blues Café at the time was the number one blues album

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on Billboard. To think that I would get to experience a top shelf traditional blues great for five bucks was in itself tough to believe but it was true. Trudy’s band featured blues harp great Steve Krase and when Ms. Lynn belted out “Red Light” Steve’s harp presence was way cool. One song after another, hit after hit the crowd was going wild. It was like being in a Martin Scorsese documentary but there I was in a real life, inside this real deal juke joint south of Houston. I didn’t know to bring my own bottle but a guy sitting in the row in front of me offered my some of his bourbon and I took him up on it. I offered to pay him but he just smiled and shook his head no. When I ordered the set up I ordered one for him too and he smiled again. What was really cool about this setting was its authenticity. The people there were dancing with each other, talking to each other as neighbors, dressed smart, and just being themselves is the best way to describe it. I wouldn’t trade this experience for the world. I was enveloped by a bit of real American lore, the music’s culture, and family heritage, very tough to beat that mixture. Twice, as I listened to Trudy Lynn I found myself getting lost in memories intertwined between her vivid lyrics and the band’s musical accents when appropriate. I left Mr. Gino’s after the sun went down, got out on the freeway and headed east toward Louisiana. Just the other side of the border of Texas on I10 is a city named Lake Charles. Well known for four things; it’s gulf front port, refining, their famous volunteer Cajun Navy and major casinos. Not too many years ago when a major hurricane blew through everything and everybody was affected including the interstate being shut down and their port closed too due to trees. No way to get supplies in or even leave for that matter. Armed with only chain saws and axes this blue collar community did what needed to be done. They got their port reopened, the interstate flowing and more in record time. I’ve not forgotten that and this night I was glad to be in their city. I found a motel with room doors that opened to the parking spaces outside and checked in. Nothing major going on that night and it had been a long day so I grabbed a chair from inside the room and placed by the door on the outside, grabbed a 46 ring Maduro single leaf pressed box cigar, a cutter, and a butane lighter from my bike and proceeded to sit down. It’s humid in Lake Charles as the gulf is close by but not enough to run you indoors at the time of year I was there. So I kicked back fired up and placed air buds in my ears and grabbed a playlist on my phone. “Black Magic Woman” by Santana was first up and there couldn’t have been a better tune for the moment. Deep in the south with its rich lore about voodoo and here I was listening to “Black Magic Woman”. I loved it, it was a good night. Well as all things go then deputy dawg came driving through the parking lot and of course the brake lights came on

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as he eyed my scooter and me smoking my big cigar while leaning back on the rear legs of the chair I was on. I thought oh man come on go chase some murderers or something but no true to form his car went into park and out came this humongous size football looking deputy. Well here we go… So as I stood up and reached for the wallet in my pocket and the man shouted, “Don’t even think of it!” Maybe it was the exotic look of my bike or maybe it was the large cigar hanging out of my mouth then again maybe it was the movement toward my wallet. No matter he had his hand on the grip of his pistol and I wasn’t going to call his bluff. He asked, “Where you from” and I wanted to say “my mother” but thought better about being a smart ass with this man and said I am coming from Texas. He then asked where I was going and I wanted to say “oh I don’t know just up the road” but of course that wasn’t going to fly so I just said Shreveport. He asked, “what’s that in your ear?” and I replied an air bud for listening to music and not bothering others. He asked, “what are you listening to?” which I thought was a weird question but replied, Santana. He asked, “What song?” I said Black Magic Woman” He said he remembered it and actually smiled a little bit. I thought ok this must be where the twist comes in but it didn’t he just turned and left. Now this is where it really gets interesting. As soon as he left the scene so did four others, three men and one woman. Not all together but over the time it took to smoke my cigar the four of them started their cars and trucks and left. I called it a night and decided if I brought the bike inside I would probably be tried for some kind of major felony and I didn’t want the hassle so I just left it outside. Got up in the morning and took off going north toward Shreveport. Along the route I saw this billboard that advertised the best biscuits and gravy in the U.S. guaranteed. Sounded like a plan to me and off I went. Good looking gal waiting tables with a million dollar smile brought the morning jo over and now I was smiling like a jackass smelling fresh grass. I was a bit embarrassed at myself but she was friendly and her legs went all the way to the floor. Shame on me, shame on me, shame on me but you know how it is with men and sweet waitresses. I automatically replied a ham and cheese omelet as that is what I usually order and then immediately changed my order and said those perfect buns I learned about on the billboard. Now there is a difference between buns and biscuits and as you might imagine she wasn’t going to let that go by and asked do you mean biscuits or do you prefer buns? Smart ass woman but good touché on her part. She knew she had me in a precarious position. I began to snicker and my face felt warm as I said for now the biscuits please. She complied as she walked away and I could see she was definitely smiling too. Harmless exchange but I will remember that scene for the rest of my life. Take in a change of scenery, see a bit of America and meet some of the most interesting people of our era. The news media constantly tells us what is bad but if we get out and about beyond our immediate neighborhood we can still feel the old USA being very much alive. Finally, Remember to vote and also remember to preserve wildlife, so get out and go to a party! Set yourself free, come on set yourself free, you know you want to, you really, really know you want to…..