Karsceal Turner – I Got Next!
I love motorcycles. I learned to ride waaay back in 2011 and by the time I’m 50, I’ll own a crotch rocket.
However, in 2014, I’m only 42, I drive a car and I must deal with the biggest issue if one isn’t a motorcycle aficionado. That would amount to traffic, gridlock, and a hell of a lot noise for 10 days straight. Imagine that. Central Florida residents, holler if you hear me! It isn’t confined to just Daytona Beach either. However Daytona is the landing platform aka Hub so at one time or another every tire must run through the city at least once.
The impact on the local economy financially is massive. Revenue from the venue fuels many of local businesses for the entire year.
Without going through the number of injuries and fatalities, studies show although motorcyclists make up less than 3 percent of the vehicles on the road, they account for 18 percent of all traffic fatalities in Florida.
I shall treat you to a walk with me onto Mary McLeod Bethune Boulevard, home of Bethune-Cookman University, over a dozen businesses, and the Mecca for Bike Week 2014. First, let us skip across the sands of the World’s Most Famous Beach. Shall we?
TRAFFIC …BLOODY …SUCKS
I had to make my way through traffic gingerly from the jump because motorcycles were in the way, either in front of me, switching lanes erratically or gunning it right behind me. Quite irritating.
This happened to me for the duration of half an hour. Depending upon which venue you’re trying to hit this can double. The following are examples of high traffic volume. They include; International speedway Blvd, Nova Road, Clyde Morris Blvd, Bill France Blvd, Williamson Blvd, pretty much every major thoroughfare in the city. Locals know to keep travel to the bare minimum during Bike Week.
Main Street..Don’t even worry about it.
Thinking of heading east across the Main Street Bridge? Be prepared to be in gridlock because there is a traffic-light at the foot of the bridge across the Halifax River. That is if you don’t happen to encounter the bridge when it’s raised. It’s a drawbridge after all) Just beyond that light is Daytona Beach’s historic Main Street district and ground zero for the annual motorcycle event. The ish is almost overwhelming but truly worth beholding.
All the biker images you’ve seen in the movies will be in living color. The Boot Hill Saloon is right across the street from a cemetery on a hill, like really. Don’t let that sign which reads “No colors allowed” scare you. It’s not a Black and White thing, it is aimed at organized cycle clubs who wear colors (patches showing allegiance to a club, rank and position). Daytona Beach has had problems with violent biker gangs in the past. However, many biker clubs are Christian groups or groups of veterans.
Don’t stereotype US bikers…dammit, not all of us are thugs….why does this sound so familiar to me?
Anyway, both sides of the street are crammed with businesses. Some of the businesses are open for Bike Week ONLY. Folks are hawking T-shirts galore, souvenirs, hats, chaps, Leather and bike accessories out of the ying-yang! There are also food vendors. They reminded me of the setups at the fair and at the carnivals. Main Street leads direction to the beach and the Atlantic Ocean, where many bikers took a ride on authorized places on the beach.
The weather cooperated by yielding sunny blue skies a nice gentle breeze, and mild temperatures. Weather-wise, this was one of the best Bike weeks I’ve seen in over 20 years in this area.
I can’t give any definitive numbers on attendance but research revealed it peaked at around 350,000 in the mid-1990s, and the number has gone up and down since then. Yep it was cool to take it all in on the Beachside, smelling the smells and seeing the sights.
However, I am of the Soul Brother persuasion. It is not lost upon me that back in the day, I didn’t dare go over that bridge after sundown, if at all.
And sooo across the railroad tracks to the Westside of Daytona Beach we go! Lots of clichés in this piece folks. Don’t blame me, I just write it as it comes from my brain.
Bike Week from the funk perspective
Before I could descend down the street formerly known as Second Avenue, now known as Mary McLeod Bethune Blvd and named for the woman who opened a school on the site of the former city dump…with a buck-fifty. I am a product of that dream but I digress.
The sounds of Smooth Jazz mingled with a hint of Frankie Beverly and a hint of Earth Wind and Fire was offset by urban mixes, reggae and just a smidget of Shirley Caesar and it all seemed to fuse together.
As I ascended down the slight hill, the aroma of fresh hot fish mingled in the air with the sweet smell of sausage and onions hit me dead-on. Of course, barbecue setups outnumbered everyone on the block.
Not to be outdone, my island kinfolk had the curry goat, jerk chicken and oxtails on deck. Yeh Mon beans and rice too, plantain too, cabbage too (don’t try me).
The scene was much more like a family reunion than anything else. I hung out on the corner with the Worshipful Master of Boaz Lodge #212. We stood on the corner and accepted love from all directions as brothers and Eastern Stars all greeted us as one big family. A couple older brothers talked our ears off but…it’s all good.
Vendors hawked ethnic jewelry, artwork, purses, dresses and accessories. Happen to be in the market for oils, and incense? They had you. Looking for Shea butter soap and hair care products? They had you.
Were you looking for a Tropical drink served in a pineapple with a straw? They had that too. Of course they had tee shirts, leather goods, bike gear and accessories too.
I marveled at the similarities and differences in vendors and what they hawked as opposed to those across the tracks headed east. The difference was that on this side of the tracks I had no worries and didn’t feel “that” vibe as if I wasn’t wanted. I felt solid.
My solidarity turned to dread as I got a text message that a man and woman were shot, one fatally. The shooter was later apprehended about a block from the scene. The shooting was nowhere near the vicinity of bikers and their revelry. Still, some small-minded people will try to link it because it is still within the same community. Yet, it is only one facet of the Black community. All in all it only takes a single Jackass for an entire ethnic group to be viewed as jackasses. I suppose this is not limited to my ethnic group. Just know that I’ll be ready for Bike Week 2015. I Got Next!
