God Bless the Biker

The Story


This tune is about two-thirds true. I'd left Minneapolis for San Francisco in mid October. After a stop in Western Nebraska I lit out for a one-day shot to Salt Lake City. Mighty cold that night, brothers and sisters, mighty cold. This is what the bike looked like then:

That's right, a 350 Honda. I'd owned that TR6 you see at the top right but, what with the Lucas electronics and Witworth threads -- and, despite rumors to the contrary, a different bolt-head as well -- I figured I wanted a new machine when sometimes I'd literally be eighty miles from the nearest gas station. Triumphs were at a premium then so I actually made a profit. Bought the new machine at Powell's Alameda Honda with my PG&E money and put 5000 on it the first year.

One teensy, weensy little problem. Someone forgot to put the lock-tab down on the front brake bracket which nearly caused a disaster in Oregon.

Note: Riding back from SF I met a couple of bikers who'd take a yearly trip to the "Lost City of Atlanta" Idaho. Showed me pictures. Some folks still wore guns. (Right, this was back a ways). Last night the town toasted the bikers with their machines right up on the bar. Midwest guys. If you know `em say hi.

God Bless the Biker - Lyrics

© Joe Muldoon


It’s a Colorado highway late on Christmas Eve. Weaving through the darkness, one lonely biker with bells on his bars, presents in his packs, and hope in his heart is trying to make it home before the kids wake up. High above the Rockies, the Angels look down and wish him nothing but the best. And so they sing it out, “God Bless the Biker….”

Ridin’ through the Rocky Mountains on a cold October night
Hangin’ on the handle bars, my hands were frozen tight.
Had a hundred miles behind me, a hundred more to go.
I asked the Lord to help me out, it started to snow.

It was a white wall there before me, darkness all behind.
My headlight started icing up and sure I was ridin’ blind.
I couldn’t stop or hit the brakes, Lord I was frozen still.
I started plannin’ my very own wake and I made out my last will...I said

God bless the biker and God bless all his friends
There’s thunder in the mountains, oil on the bends.
Rednecks drivin’ pickup trucks, those roads are hard and slick,
God bless the biker on a night like this.

The night was bad, the sky was black, the cold was getting colder.
I hit a turn that wasn’t there and I went off on the shoulder.
I rolled it right on down a hill, it almost seemed like fun.
Then I came to a stop and saw a cop and I knew that help had come.

But he drove his car right up to me and took out a ticket book.
Said your headlight’s out my friend and I don’t like the way you look.
You’re loiterin’ now, your parking’s bad, your driving ain’t quite right.
He wrote out a ticket on the ticket pad, and then he said goodnight.
And I said... Chorus

Just when I thought that all was lost, a light came in the sky
A golden bike came down the road, it was thirty-five feet high.
It didn’t roar, it didn’t screech, it came on with a song.
When it got up there beside me, it was ninety-five feet long.

It had a plow on front to catch the snow, a diamond for a light.
In the evening it had it’s own glow, it was such a pretty sight.
Then the biggest, strongest handsome one of a seventeen man crew,
Said “I’m the Magic Biker, son, and what can I do for you?”

Slowed down, background vocals
Then he waved a golden ratchet, just like a magic wand.
My bike got up and fixed itself and turned it’s own self on.
In a minute I was ridin’ along, warm and well and dry.
In the mountais I could hear a song, and I could see him in the sky. , Singin’... Chorus