I began my riding life 46 years ago, while stationed in Morocco with the Marine Corps. When I returned to The World a group of my hometown buds caught the fever and we had our own little suburban gang, which we jokingly dubbed "The Deperados." We didn't go the leather vest and colors route; we just had fun. Day rides, weekend camping trips, Saturday mornings on some local backroads. We didn't discriminate on machinery, there were Japanese sport bikes, a couple of Sportsters, BMWs, and my Norton Commando.
Artie, Phil, Toby, Butch, myself, Pangs, Keith, Billy
All the guys stayed in the area, but two of the gang have since taken the long way home. We lost Jon "Toby" Bloesch about five years ago to a long illness. And this past weekend we said goodbye to Steve "Butch" Boyle following his fight with cancer.
Butch, back in the day, his GS to the left. Butch and I stayed active in the sport all these years and rode together when we could. He put up a man-cave behind his home several years ago and built a collection of toys, including several motorcycles which he kept in pristine riding condition. One of the collection was his "forever" bike, a 1978 Suzuki GS550. I gave him a ride to the dealer on the day he picked up the brand new Suzuki. There's an '86 VFR750 in the cave, too. It's one of my projects that I was proud to share with him.
He and I were considered the "fast guys" and I have many, many memories of chasing one another on the alphabet roads of southwest Wisconsin. Butch was a natural, his smoothness and effortless cornering speed coming from within, never needing anyone to show him how it's done. In 2010 we rode a New England MotoMarathon (.com) — four days of backroad rallying, me on my CBX and him taking a few goodhearted jabs for bringing his Pacific Coast. But, true to form, he could keep up with any of the high-zoot Beemers and Ducs. It's not the bike, it's the rider.
Butch loved his toys, but he was family first. Sherry and their three children were his life's focus. His son, Joe, took up riding and now works with Mecum auctions. Back in '78 when he asked me to be his Best Man I was humbled and truly honored. We've always shared a sort of quiet bond in our 45 years of friendship, much of that developed while riding motorcycles. Whether on a dirt trail, a fast sweeper, at the poker table or shooting pool, we've always challenged one another, but with an easy rhythm as only friends can. He is the only person I let ride my bikes, not only because I trusted his skills, but I knew he respected the machines in the same way he respected people. The hundreds of people attending his memorial were there not out of duty but to honor that respect. In the end, I've always thought that one of the greatest things that could be said about a guy's life is that "he was a good man." By any measure, Steve Boyle was a good man. Safe rides, buddy.
Butch loved his toys, but he was family first. Sherry and their three children were his life's focus. His son, Joe, took up riding and now works with Mecum auctions. Back in '78 when he asked me to be his Best Man I was humbled and truly honored. We've always shared a sort of quiet bond in our 45 years of friendship, much of that developed while riding motorcycles. Whether on a dirt trail, a fast sweeper, at the poker table or shooting pool, we've always challenged one another, but with an easy rhythm as only friends can. He is the only person I let ride my bikes, not only because I trusted his skills, but I knew he respected the machines in the same way he respected people. The hundreds of people attending his memorial were there not out of duty but to honor that respect. In the end, I've always thought that one of the greatest things that could be said about a guy's life is that "he was a good man." By any measure, Steve Boyle was a good man. Safe rides, buddy.
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