Lemmy unfiltered: Inside the book "Ride On"

That's a quote from perhaps your favorite Common Tread writer, Lemmy, explaining (in part) how years ago as an optimistic and thoroughly broke youth he ended up out of gas on his patched-together Honda CX500 after nightfall in East St. Louis, in a neighborhood the tow truck drivers won't even go to after sunset.

It's not a story you've read on Common Tread, however. You see, in his off hours, Lemmy has put into print a bunch of the stories he's amassed over a couple of decades of hard riding, in the form of a 136-page paperback titled "Ride On." It's his book, so he gets to tell the stories he wants to tell, the way he wants to tell them, in the language he wants to use. We try to keep the reins loose on our writers at Common Tread, but still, there's no freedom like writing your own book, with nobody's name on the cover but your own.

Naturally, the book introduces us to some of the uncounted motorcycles Lemmy has consorted with along the way. You may have already heard about "Booger," the first motorcycle (to use that term loosely) that teenaged Lemmy ever brought home, but in the book you get the full story of the purchase of that homely moped, how he got it running, his first maiden ride under internal combustion power and how he had to shoot the gap past the bumper of his mother's Ford to achieve liftoff to freedom, despite her objections.

We also meet that CX500, the Bandit, the orange-flake Blockhead chopper his wife bought him with scraped-together money in their younger days and multiple choppers to follow. About the only thing they all had in common is that they never remained unmolested long under Lemmy's ownership. His lifetime of tinkering dates back at least to putting a 12-inch wheel from his kid brother's bicycle on his own bicycle to replace one he'd busted. He just wanted to ride again. His friends thought it looked cool. A lesson on the value of modifications learned early.

But more important than the motorcycles or the mods, we meet some of the characters who truly make Lemmy's stories. Some, like Hutch, still show up with spare parts and helping hands when most needed, and some, like Joel, have already moved on from this plane of existence. And then there's a chapter on Spurgeon, his partner in video crime and editorial do-gooding here at Common Tread.

I even earn a brief mention myself, in the introduction, where Lemmy recounts my words to him when he told me he was going to write a book of his motorcycle stories. As the author of a similar book, I warned him, "It's hard to sell books to motorcyclists. Everybody feels like they have their own stories, so why should they pay you $20 for yours?"

I recount that little vignette not for vanity, but to make a couple of points.

Lemmy took my hard-won wisdom to heart and then, undeterred, sat down and put in the hours to write his book anyway. That's Lemmy for you.

Then, he ended that introduction with a money-back guarantee. If you're not satisfied, come look him up and he'll buy you enough drinks to make up for the purchase price. And he'll listen to your stories while doing it. That's also pure Lemmy.

If you'd like an extra shot of Lemmy, unfiltered, here's your chance.