“Being There: Stories from the Road Where We Keep the Rubber Side Down”
There’s a difference between passing through… and truly being there.
Being There is a collection of true motorcycle journeys written by my father — stories of open highways, small towns, long miles, unexpected detours, and the kind of moments you only find when you slow down enough to notice them.
My father passed away many years ago.
But through these writings, his voice still rides.
In each episode, I read one of his stories from the road — just as he wrote it — and then I share a personal reflection at the end. What it means to me now. What I hear differently as a son. What time and miles have taught me since he first put those words on paper.
These aren’t just ride logs.
They’re lessons in presence. In freedom. In risk. In faith. In keeping the rubber side down — on the bike and in life.
Ride safe. Be present.
And keep the rubber side down.
“Being There: Stories from the Road Where We Keep the Rubber Side Down”
My Everything
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My Everything was written in March of 2003 as a story to commemorate the author’s 35th wedding anniversary. It was inspired by a chance encounter with a redheaded beauty at Coopers in Llano, Texas, on a ride with his long-time friend, Jerry.
Welcome to the Being There Podcast. Stories from the Road where we keep the rubber side down. These are stories written by my father, Gene McCalmott. Commentary by his son, me, John McCalmott. This is episode 10. My Everything. Written in May of 2003. My Everything was written in March of 2003 as a story to commemorate the author's 35th wedding anniversary. It was inspired by a chance encounter with a redheaded beauty at Cooper's and Llano, Texas on a ride with his longtime and best friend, Jerry. This is My Everything. Jerry and I have often met at Cooper's and Lano for a little barbecue and some catching up on things. We would meet on the road and ride into town together, kind of like a couple of old trail hands looking for a good time. I saw him in the distance flashing his lights as I approached from the north. He wheeled his triumph sprint around as I passed him quickly and caught up. A couple of thumbs up and we were off to town to spend our hard earned wages. We wheeled into the crowded parking lot at Cooper's, and parked our steeds next to a row of brightly colored sports machines and custom cruisers of every imaginable shape and kind. This place has always been a great equalizer among riders and a favorite Sunday destination, especially on this beautiful spring day. We muscled our way through the serving line and were headed outside with our trays of meat and beans when I saw her for the first time. Her short cropped red hair slid easily from beneath her full face helmet, which she placed on a table alongside her racing gloves. She was dressed in white leathers, had a presence about her that suggested there was more here than meets the eye. She pulled that front zipper of her jacket open and turned to let the cooling breeze flow along her athletic frame. The way she carried herself expressed more confidence than arrogance. I have always had a thing for confident, self assured women. We worked away at the savory meat and beans on our trays and sprinkled it with simple conversation. My attention kept stealing back to this leather clad beauty and her companion. She slipped her arm around her man and drew him in close. He turned and kissed her lightly on the cheek. She smiled at him as they held each other close. It was apparent their connection was more than a simple friendship. My thoughts wandered back to that other red headed girl in my life. It could have been another Sunday morning in the spring of sixty eight, just like this one. I wore my leather jacket slightly open at the top and my long dark hair suggested that I might be just a little dangerous. I would ride alongside old Speck Hall at the college in San Marcos, and gunned the engine on my sixty seven Triumph. The roar of the reverse cone megaphones would rattle the windows of the girls' dorm. One by one, the blinds would raise as if showcasing the treasures within. Young girls stood in the windows whispering to each other about the wild biker outside. Then, in that one special window, this young beauty would come into view, with her roommate standing beside her. Her long auburn red hair singled her out among the other girls. She had that same confident, self assured look. She carried herself in a manner that suggested there was much more to her than what you could see. She reassured her roommate that I was mostly harmless, and left the room. We would ride the Texas Hill Country together on that triumph. I could feel her arms tightly clasp around me as we moved through the corners and hills outside of San Marcos. We would sit and talk for hours. She seemed to have patience for my faults and for my motorcycle passion. That I was a biker was unimportant to her. It was simply part of the package. She understood my anxiety about the war. She knew I would be reclassified in a couple of months. There was a sense of urgency to life back then. She became my link to sanity in that turbulent year. She became my lover. She became my everything. It's not the way you say it when you do those things to me. It's more the way you mean it when you tell me what will be. And when you stop and think about it, you won't believe it's true. That all the love you've been giving has all been meant for you. Justin Hayward, The Moody Blues, 1969. Jerry noticed my vacant stare, turned to see what was so important. Nice, he said, looking back at me. So, where'd you go? Oh, I was just thinking about that red-headed girl you introduced me to in college. If I hadn't met you, I wouldn't have met her. She was not the one you were supposed to meet, dude, he said. Rita was supposed to be your date. But you were so damn charming, she fell asleep on the couch. Bev was the only one that could stand your company. Yeah. I was a real charmer back then. What she ever saw in you utterly escapes me, he said. But I guess there's no accounting for taste. So what are you guys gonna do for your anniversary? I think I'll give her a ring. Tell her I love her. Tell her I'd marry her all over again if she'd have me. Well, be careful what you ask for, he said. She knows you too well by now. I took a long sip of sweet iced tea as I thought about the last thirty-five years Bev and I had spent together. Yep. I guess you could say I'm married well above my station. Jerry just looked at me and said, You can say that again, dude. As I relived this story, in April of 2026, coming next month, they would have been married fifty-eight years, which makes perfect sense because I'm fifty-seven. You can do the math, or you know the story from the last podcast. This story has been passed down so many times the night that my father met my mother. And Jerry was there, and so was Rita. It changes a little bit over the years, and uh I I never get tired of hearing it. In fact, it was uh a great morning at breakfast when we were celebrating my mom's birthday recently, and she shared the story of meeting my father with my girls and my wife. And um, every time I learned something just a little bit new about the old man and about my mom, and about the great love story that they had throughout their lives. My mom is a force to be reckoned with, and she was the foundation for my father, much like my wife is the foundation for me. Because what do they say? The acorn doesn't fall from fall far from the tree. My father, much like me, was an eternal dreamer. That's what made him such a great author and writer. Um I myself, as an actor by trade, am an eternal dreamer as well. And I have that nice foundation to keep me grounded and realize that at times I do have to make money in this business to support a family of a wife and two girls and two dogs. As the story goes, Rita was intended to be my dad's date that night. They were placed together, Jerry and others thinking that they would be a compatible match. And um, did Rita fall asleep? Did she have too much to drink? Who really knows? Um, but as the story goes, my mother and father got to talking, and they talked all night long. And as my dad would put it, it was love at first sight, or first conversation, but probably first sight. Their marriage, their commitment to each other, gave me the foundation that I have in my life now. The understanding that marriage is not always easy. It can be very, very difficult at times, and it's something that you have to work at each and every day. It's something you have to cherish, it's something you have to bend with. Just like the wind bends the leaves of a tree from time to time. But if you always remember that concrete foundation and you're always supportive, well, that marriage will last a lifetime. Just like my marriage is lasting a lifetime. Just like my dad's writings are now lasting a lifetime with this podcast. And one of the greatest things about this podcast is after my mom listens to them, we have a conversation, and I learn just a little bit more. If this stirs your soul like it stirs mine, and you enjoyed today's episode, be sure to subscribe and follow the podcast so you don't miss future readings and commentary. All written material featured in this podcast is the original work of my father and used with his permission. The thoughts and opinions I share are my own. This recording is for personal listening only. My voice, likeness, and performance are protected and may not be recorded, reproduced, or used in any form of AI training, cloning, or synthetic replication without my explicit written consent. Thanks again for being here. Until next time, keep the rubber side down and safe travels.