You must understand a few rules of the Milligan Brotherhood, we are a proud bunch and have always liked having things that are big and fast, it is not ok to act like a girl if you are scared (no offense to all of the fearless women out there), and when a family event comes you are there come high water. It had been a good ten years since riding a motorcycle around to change irrigation pipes. Memories of riding a wheely into the back of the swather and laying over my older brothers motorcycle were some of my more memorable motorcycling memories. Yeah, I was a bit nervous but there is no way I was going to break both Man Law and the code of the Milligan Brotherhood. I was headed on this ride. Erik would ride his 1860cc chopper man bike, Mike was perched on his insanely fast GSXR bullet bike, I was riding a much tamer though very cool 600cc Honda Shadow. Short a motorcycle Pete would follow in the support truck. Clad in leather jackets and sheer male ego we headed up Logan Canyon. I had never ridden a motorcycle in the Canyon. I was a hair nervous on the first few turns. In fact my heart was pounding by the time I hit the tightest corner in the canyon. Knowing the canyons every curve was a feather in my helmet, but my inexperience showed as I drifted a bit close to oncoming traffic a few times. A new rectangular patch on the asphalt stood as a stark reminder that a 26 year old father had died in this canyon last year doing what I was now doing. Passing the spot by I could not help but think about what must have caused him to slide into an oncoming truck. In no hurry we rode in force up the canyon, the sound of Erik’s bike echoed off Logan Canyons cliff walls. Mike blurred past me succumbing to a need to feel a few curves at speed on his bullet bike. I slowly and alertly continued up the canyon. Erik’s advice to keep my eyes on the road and look where I wanted to go seemed to loop through my mind. Other bikers coming the other way gave the biker wave with their arm slung low and a few fingers out almost grabbing at the sky acknowledging the brotherhood of bikers. I was so a tentative to the road I neglected to do this for the first few groups. Reaching Beaver Mountain Ski Area was a good time to recover. A numb bum is better than a sore bum so when Erik asked how’s your butt feeling I replied its ok. He smiled and said I knew you’d be sore by now. He also said” hey John, I feel bad I forgot to tell you this but when you’re turning right on a canyon curve you actually turn left”. No wonder I had difficulty making turns earlier in the canyon! Refreshed and armed with new biking instructions we proceeded up the canyon. I experimented with what Erik had told me. I realized that if I pulled slightly the opposite direction of which I was turning the bike leaned over much more rapidly and made the turn a breeze, no more nerves! I was finally able to begin enjoying the ride. Soon we were at the Bear Lake over look. After snapping a few photos we rode on down the road. The lake was amazing, and full of people. Bear lakes “Raspberry Days” were crimping our style. A mile from Garden Cities main intersection the traffic backed up. The lake was as striking as ever. Bear Lake has a high content of phosphorus in the water. This Phosphorus is from the nearby limestone of the area which grows some of the most beautiful wildflowers in the west. Phosphorus gives the lake a vivid light blue that sets it apart from any lake I have ever seen. Continuing down the Lakes West shore it seemed we were racing the many water crafts and motor boats running parallel us in the lake. As we entered Idaho the amount of traffic decreased and suddenly I began to understand what Bob Segar was singing about in one of his great hits “Against the Wind”. The curves of the canyon gone, only straight road lay ahead. The whole world seemed to be open to me as I rode on my big two wheeler. The freedom of riding seemed to free my soul. No wonder so many flock to ride. As other groups passed the other way I gave my wave to them feeling apart of their fraternity. There is romance to riding a bike that one cannot experience in a car. Being able to see everything, butterflies, birds, and an unobstructed view of the outdoors with the feel of the wind is a very enlivening feeling. As we wound into the easy curves of Strawberry Canyon the smell of the pines brought me back to my childhood memories of cutting trees in the mountains with my Dad. We stopped near the summit for another chance to take it all in. It was nice to have Pete there with the support truck full of goodies to eat and gas for my bike. Flowing with the curves of the canyon we came into the Mink Creek area. I felt at home here as I saw many farmers out bailing hay, cows grazing on green pastures whose rolling hills appeared like a flag waiving in the breeze. Soon we were paralleling the mighty Bear River. Its sparkling currents added to the relaxation of the ride. Once back in Cache valley we stayed off the main road up high on the roads that skirted the foothills the Cache National Forest. We tried to cling to the last part of the ride and take it all in. Much too soon we were back in the traffic of the Logan area and almost home. I had begun a nervous novice who never really understood why many devoted so much to two wheels a saddle and an engine. As we passed our final group of riders I waved with respect and understanding of the fraternity and Brotherhood of Bikers. Ride on!