If I’m Right Smile

The article “If I’m Right Smile” by Bud Miller was originally published on the “RoadRUNNER Motorcycle Touring & Travel” magazine website on 06/18/2012.

Note: I’ll be departing Friday for an annual ride with my friend Ken in the West Virginia Mountains. This time of year leading up to Father’s Day always, of course, makes me think of my father and this piece I wrote about him for RoadRUNNER Touring and Travel:

“If I’m right, smile.” That was my father’s catch phrase. No one could resist it; he said it to me, to my siblings, my daughter, waitresses, and anyone else he liked or wanted to win over. It was his way to disarm people and get them to smile, even when they may not have agreed with him. As someone once said, a smile is the shortest distance between two people.

Mr. Bud, a name my teammates in college assigned to him and which he kept until he passed away, didn’t live long enough to see me start riding, although I know what he’d have said: “too dangerous, lot of nuts on the roads.” He was a “call me and let it ring once when you get home” sort of guy.

My father was my biggest fan in my competitive athletic days, and while he most likely wouldn’t have approved of my taking up riding, I know he would have loved tinkering with the bike. He was a mechanic with the same company from the time he left the Navy until he passed away. We’d have shared a beer or coffee while we checked valve clearances, changed chains, plugs, oil, and brake fluid. We’d have polished and tuned and maybe I would have been able to convince him to ride with my brother and me. His death passed the torch of responsibility for my mechanical (in)competence to my brother Dave, who is constantly amused by my “guess what I did” stories.

So often when I ride, small pieces of Mr. Bud come back to me. I find him out there on the road. Sometimes he’s the voice in my ear when I’m anticipating a driver doing something without warning; sometimes it’s just a memory of his late night trips to get my ’65 Fairlane started; and sometimes it’s just to try and find him in the best place I know where to look.

Sons ache for the fathers they’ve lost; I certainly do. It’s like the phantom pain of a lost limb I’ve often read about. The pain of something no longer there is hard to make peace with, and I almost hope I never do, because I like riding out to be with my father. I ride partly to deal with the loss and to spend a few hours remembering. If there’s a ride I’ve been on when I didn’t think of Mr. Bud in one way or another, I certainly can’t remember it. Riding is like that. You find what you need out there on the road, even if you’re not sure what that is when you set out. If I’m right, smile . . . see, works every time.

Ride safe.

2 Comments

  1. Holly

    Nicely put. I lost my dad just as I started riding and as your dad would have been, he was not thrilled 🙂 I cried when I did sell that bike I had after he passed as I realized all the grieving I'd done on that bike, putting 14k miles on in less than 2 seasons (in Oregon mind you). I fell in love with riding and got to take my dad along with me on oh so many trips. Still, a daddy's girl to the core. Great article.

    1. BudCAD (Post author)

      Thank you Holly. I'm glad the article meant something to you. They are always with us. Ride safe.

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