October 23, 2016

I guess my story doesn’t start like most.

I didn’t come from abuse, didn’t grow up on the streets. I came from a pretty standard issue middle class family. Husband, wife, 1.5 kids and a golden retriever. Dad was a biker, a heavy Tow operator, mom was an optician. Older brother was a mechanical genius who was rebuilding engines before he could drive. I was the baby. I was born with a passion for two wheels, it was ingrained in every facet of my life. I also loved sports, and competition. I see now that competition was an addiction that would fuel me, for better and worse into my early adult life. I experienced my first Bar Fight at 19. A time in my life where I was struggling to fill the competitive hole left behind by the the Glory of Friday Nights on a football field. It was intoxicating. 

I quickly became a barfly. I’m a naturally anxious guy, if I’m uncomfortable, I sink into the background. In dive bars I found comfort, in Jameson, I found charisma. Before long I was bouncing at various bars around the area. I was known by many. I became the “Call Nick and see what the move is tonight” guy. The next years were a blur of close calls, violence, philandering, double crossing, and a deeper and deeper pit of self loathing. My first DWI would come on a holiday weekend. I was between bars on my Sportster at the time. I decided to rip a wheelie on a busy road to impress, basically anyone who saw. The police officers who saw were impressed. I knew I was polluted, I knew I had no license. So I made what still ranks as the worst decision of my life. I ran. Most of the chase is foggy. A moment that haunts me is when I over shot a corner, nearly riding strait into and oncoming Buick. A mile or so later I gave up. Surrounded by law enforcement, I removed my helmet. I knew nearly every cop on scene professionally. Groans of disappointment rang out over the group. Another chapter of the smart kid doing the stupidest shit. What else is to be expected from a guy who tested in the top of his class and failed to graduate because he just couldn’t be bothered to show up for class. 

You would think this would be the turnaround in the story. 

But it wasn’t. 

A $1200 fine, a state mandated course, 6 month “conditional” license. And I was back in business, maybe more careful in the beginning, but progressively more arrogant feeling like I’d beat the system. Fast forward a year. I was drinking harder, fighting more, narrowly evaded a life altering assault charge. I was locked into a toxic relationship booze increasingly became my escape. And for luck, she was a bartender. 

I remember hearing old timers talk about bad moonshine making you go blind.

 Perhaps, I had. Because what came next I never saw coming.

October 18, 2016. I left a bar. A friend was very drunk. He wanted to show me his new car, a twin turbo BMW. I followed him, because I was less drunk, after several beers and best I can figure 6 Jameson and Gingers. We wandered far out of the usual territory I haunted. I got snagged by local law for straddling both eastbound lanes and doubling the speed limit. I actually thought to myself that it was good thing I was there or it would be him getting pulled over. Thinking I was going to be driving off with a traffic infraction. To this day I wonder how the story would have ended if we made it to that Beemer.

I “passed” the field sobriety test. 

My speech wasn’t slurred. 

I blew in the neighborhood of a 0.2 over double the limit. The cop on scene was flabbergasted. 

The days that followed were the darkest I can remember in my life. Moments came and went were I wondered if I was someone who should continue living if this was all I had to offer. Saturday came. 

October 22, 2016. It was the Toys for Tots run at our local HD dealer, I rode with my dad. We drank. I drank hard. I don’t know if we passed a place that sold alcohol all day that I didn’t try to drink dry. I remember having to hold my dad’s bike up for him at points. When I finally reached my house,  a house I wasn’t even really living in yet, as I was in the process of remodeling, I finally let my dad know what had happened a few days prior. He wasn’t surprised, just said “figure it out”. I went back to the corner store once he’d left for more, a 30 rack and a bottle were my friends that night.. I sat alone in the dark, I had nothing but a futon. I drank, I drank as hard as I could, I didn’t want to wake up. 

A friend, and my faith intervened.

The next morning I awoke in a pool of sweat, vomit, blood and tears. The drywall was blown out all over the house. My hands were battered and bloodied. The 30 rack was empty.

It was October 23, 2016. I never drank again. 

Initially, if I’m being completely honest,  it wasn’t supposed to be a long term choice. I was going to clean up, and get through the court process, get my life in order, and then I could pick up again when I could control it. But as time went on, I began to feel the fog lift. The puffiness left my face. I finished my house. I moved in. I changed jobs. I went on probation and County Drug and Alcohol Court. The beginnings of which my arrogance once again could have cost me everything. I knew I couldn’t drink as I was subject to random testing. But you can’t test for driving or riding a motorcycle. In the early stages I would even ride my motorcycle to Probation appointments and hide it in and alleyway. A full face helmet to cover my face and a hoodie to cover my tattoos. At some point. I bought in. Hung my keys up, began to engage in the program, began to feel like I was benefiting from treatment. Somewhere around my first year sober, I realized this was the road for me. I operated with a level of clarity, sharpness. My brain came back. My health came back. My sleep schedule came back. I held a job, climbed the ladder. Excelled. Mentored. Moved on to bigger opportunity. I met my wife, a woman who is a caliber of human who carries herself with such dignity and a genuineness I never would have been able to so much as sit in a room with when I was at my worst. I started my shop, J Hook Cycles and have watched it grow from just a pipe dream. I’ve regained all of my driving privileges, including a motorcycle license I never actually had. I have made deep relationships in the motorcycle community, including becoming a Brand Ambassador for RideXSober, a banner I am profoundly proud to carry, with people everywhere wearing “The Jade” based on a saying I’ve used for many years and the likeness of my 2001 FXDL, which is still beyond surreal and humbling. 

My journey wasn’t always pretty or clean. It wasn’t without its fumbles, including a stint in county jail for violating my probation in 2019, for riding a motorcycle..well really for crashing a motorcycle, but that’s beyond the point. 28 days. Christmas 19 and New Years 2020 in lock up served as a lesson to me, and all. 

Just because you’re better than you used to be, doesn’t mean you’re done doing the work. I became complacent, cocky, and I stopped doing the work. And it bit me. But that moment was a catalyst to infinitely more growth. 

It’s dawned on me this year, 10/23/24 will be 8 years. This will mark a moment in my Journey where the time I have Sober has officially overtaken the time I was abusing. Yet I’m still doing the work. Still trying to be better every day. 

So that’s my story. I’ll see you in the wind. 

-Nick

@thejadefxdl

Owner @j_hook_cycles

RxS Brand Ambassador