STURGIS, S.D. – They call her “Blinker.”
Her real name is Kattathu Johnson, and she’s a U.S. Army combat veteran from Houston at her first Sturgis Motorcycle Rally in the Black Hills of South Dakota.
Johnson, a member of the Wounded Warrior Project that helps veterans find peace through “motorcycle therapy,” earned her nickname in an unusual way.
Mile after mile on her way to Sturgis last week, riding a Honda 750 Shadow in a tight group with other veterans, she didn’t realize her left turn signal was on.
It was Johnson’s first long motorcycle trip since she got into biking a year ago, and she was so engrossed in the beautiful scenery, the soothing rumble of the bike engines around her and the camaraderie of veterans, that she didn’t notice her bike’s “blinker” never shut off.
No worries. While the other vets in Johnson’s group kidded her about it for a long time after the 1,300-mile ride to Sturgis, seriously they embraced her as a sister — typical of the bond between bikers, especially combat veterans struggling with post-traumatic stress disorder, brought on by the horrors of war.
“Oh my goodness, these guys take you in, guide you, lead you. They bring hope back into your life,” Johnson said.
All of that from a motorcycle ride with about 35 other veterans she hadn’t even known until then.
Harley-Davidson Inc. has worked closely with the Wounded Warrior Project, sponsoring rides and giving a few bikes to veterans wanting to get on two wheels.
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Many vets say there’s no better prescription for stress than riding a motorcycle, even for a short time, as you lean your body into the wind and forget about everything else.
It’s a natural break from your worries because riding keeps you focused on your surroundings.
And, more importantly, riding with a group of veterans rekindles friendships that are unique to military service, especially time spent together in combat.
Until only a few days ago, Johnson didn’t know any of the vets she rode with to Sturgis. They came from Texas, Louisiana and California, riding together during the daytime and, at night, enjoying each other’s company in a setting where they felt secure talking about issues only those who’ve been through combat would understand.
Johnson, 29, is an Iraq War veteran who also served in Africa. She’d experienced some awful things in Iraq and brought more of it home than she realized.
“I tend to be a loner,” she said. “On this ride, it’s the most I have talked about any issues I’ve had.
“I consider these guys part of my family now,” Johnson said while camping with Wounded Warrior vets at the Pappy Hoel Campground northeast of Sturgis.
Thursday night at the campground, the group gave her a leather vest with a Project Wounded Warrior patch on it, symbolic of the bond between members.
“That was such an honor. It broke me. I am not going to lie. It broke me,” Johnson said.
John Roberts, a U.S. Marine Corps veteran wounded in a 1992 helicopter crash off the coast of Somalia, has experienced the therapeutic benefits of riding and being with his Project Wounded Warrior buddies.
“One of the things warriors lose when they leave the military is that connection with other military folks. They go back home, and they kind of lose who they are,” Roberts said.
“When you’re riding with a group of combat veterans, it’s almost like you’re back in uniform. … On the road you’re looking out for the guy next to you, keeping everybody safe,” he added.
Some of the riders have physical scars that make it painfully clear what they went through in combat. Roberts, for instance, was burned over more than 80 percent of his body and his right arm was nearly severed in the helicopter crash that killed four Marines.
Others have emotional wounds that are equally troublesome.
“But when we’re on the bikes, we’re all even. We are there for one another. And there’s no time to think about PTSD when you’re riding,” Roberts said.
When they travel as a group, motorcyclists quickly establish a trust with each other that’s important for riding safety. It also carries over into other parts of their lives.
The bond between bikers can be strong, although some in the motorcycle clubs say it’s been diluted and frayed in a culture where people have become self-centered.
“What I miss about the old days, more than anything else, is the brotherhood. The bond and respect back then was totally different,” said Frank White with the Older Bikers Riding Club in southern Indiana.
White used to ride with a three-piece-patch club, where the three identity patches on a leather vest have distinct meaning in the biker world, almost like military insignias.
Some of those clubs, though not all of them, go to war with each other over things like territory, drugs and guns.
“I got out of the (motorcycle club) years ago when they started doing drugs, giving it to kids. I just couldn’t handle that,” White said.
Some club members struggle with their commitment to the organization while, at the same time, they have work and family obligations like everybody else.
“That’s OK, but when the club becomes the eighth item on your priority list, maybe you need to re-evaluate your commitment to it,” said Tim “Rocket” Folsted with the Seeds of Abraham Motorcycle Club in Duluth.
“These guys are my family,” Folsted said.
Bruce Anderson, also with Seeds of Abraham, pulls out his cellphone and gives it a dirty look.
“These things,” he says, are a major distraction in our lives.
Anderson’s nickname is “Road Block.”
On one of his first rides with the club, he said, they came across a biker with a flat tire and no shoulder on the highway.
Anderson, a big guy not to be messed with, got off his bike, walked about a hundred yards up the road, and stood in the lane blocking traffic while the biker fixed his flat.
“I made everybody go around me. Hence the name Road Block,” he said.
HOG chapters
Harley Owners Group has its own brotherhood and sisterhood.
HOG has more than 1 million members worldwide — affiliated with about 1,300 chapters tied to Harley-Davidson dealerships.
The chapters are well known for group rides, charitable giving, and the pins and patches adorning members’ vests showing some of their biking accomplishments.
Experienced members mentor new riders and make them feel at home. In the biker world, HOG chapters are the place where Harley owners, including doctors, lawyers, teachers and factory workers, ride together and form lasting friendships.
“We are an organization where you could bring your family and hang out with no worries,” said Thor Robinson, regional manager for HOG chapters in eight states, including Wisconsin.
There are HOG chapters all over the world, as far north as the Arctic Circle, and in Thailand, India, China and other places where Harleys are gaining traction with a growing middle class.
On the bike, no one cares about your religion, politics or the color of your skin, Robinson says.
“We all speak Harley-Davidson.”
He had a law practice for 22 years before signing on with Harley-Davidson to work as a company liaison with HOG chapters.
He logs about 40,000 miles a year riding his bike to events, spending more than 200 nights on the road.
Robinson’s also been a liaison of sorts between Harley and some of the outlaw motorcycle clubs.
“Because of Harley-Davidson, our bond with that world is very strong. We don’t live in their world, and yet they don’t mess with ours,” Robinson said.
The HOG chapters and outlaw motorcycle clubs are as different as night and day, but what they have in common is the bike, fellowship and a love for riding.
“There is a respect. That’s what both of our worlds are about. If you just treat me with respect, I will treat you with respect. And then let’s go riding,” Robinson said.
