Blackened Chrome and the Physics of Freedom

In this episode we combine the experience of a Spring Motorcycle Rally and the Blackened M81 Maduro cigar from Drew Estates. We also address the ABATE organization.

Transcript

SPEAKER_00 0:11

Picture the scene. It's a warm Myrtle Beach afternoon, and I'm standing outside a place called FishTales, which, if you've never been, sits somewhere at the intersection of motorcycle culture, leather craftsmanship, and a universal human instinct for chrome plate anything that doesn't move fast enough. Inside they've got everything. Chrome parts gleaming like NASA satellites, leather jackets thick enough to stop a medieval arrow, rows of t-shirts, hats, bandanas, grips, kickstands, things you don't even know your motorcycle needed until you saw them mounted on a wall under a fluorescent lighting and suddenly realized your bike has been underdressed its entire life. And the soundtrack? Classic rock. Loud, the kind of loud that lets you know two things immediately. First, the sound system works. Second, everyone here remembers when those songs were brand new. Which brings me to the crowd. Now, I say this with affection, but the median age here is somewhere between experienced and eligible for early birds specials. And embarrassingly, I fit right in. Nothing humbles a man faster than realizing the old biker guys now look suspiciously like your peer group. But I'm posted up outside with a folding chair, watching the crowd, lighting up a Drew Estate blackened cigar. A cigar born from the strange and wonderful collision of Drew Estate's blending talent and the heavy metal mind of James Hetfield from Metallica, which is already delightfully a paradox. Motorcycles, cigars, and Metallica. If Liberty had a smell, it would probably smell something like this cigar. Dark wrapper, rich smoke, a little earthy, a little spicy, the olfactory equivalent of a guitar riff. You might light it, and suddenly the world slows down a notch. And that's when ant anthropology begins. Because events like Myrtle Beach Harley Spring Rally are sociological gold mines. You've got riders rolling in from all over the country, big touring Harleys, custom choppers, the occasional bike so polished it could double as a bathroom mirror. And everyone, every single one of them is exercising one of the most fundamental human urges, the urge to move. Humans have always loved machines that move us. Horses, sailing ships, steam locomotives, motorcycles. The same impulse freedom plus velocity. Now the rally kickoff here at FishTales has that wonderful carnival atmosphere. Engines rumbling outside, classic rock shaking the windows, people browsing racks of leather like they're shopping for medieval armor. And scattered around the tables with folks are from A-Bait. Now, for those unfamiliar, ABait stands for A Brotherhood Against Totalitarian Enactments, which, as the name goes, is about as subtle as a Harley with a straight pipes. But the organization's focus is pretty simple. Motorcycle rider rights. Their most famous position concerns helmet laws. Now, this is one of those topics where the modern regulatory brain tends to short circuit because the argument isn't that helmets are useless. They're not. Helmets are absolutely reducing the risk of severe head injury. That's physics. Concrete is hard. Human skulls are not, and they're not engineered by Volvo. But the question ABate raises is not about physics, it's about choice. And there's an interesting philosophical twist. They openly acknowledge the risk. This isn't denial. Nobody in A-Bate says head injuries are a myth. These people ride motorcycles, they know exactly how dangerous it is. But their argument is this adults with enough life experience to understand the danger should be allowed to evaluate that risk for themselves. And that's where the libertarian instinct kicks in. Because once you've established a precedent that government must eliminate risk, well, you've opened a Pandora's box. Motorcycles? Dangerous. Rock climbing? Dangerous. Cigars? Dangerous? Bacon cheeseburgers? Extremely dangerous if eaten enthusiastically enough. Soon you're living in a society where every human activity must pass through a bureaucratic safety filter. And suddenly life starts to resemble a padded room. Now, the interesting thing about biker culture is that it understands the risk in a very practical way. Nobody here is pretending motorcycles are safe. You twist the throttle on that machine that weighs 800 pounds and travels 70 miles per hour while balancing on two wheels. That's not safe. It's fun. Fun and danger have always been close cousins. Skydiving, sailing storms, mountaineering, starting a small business. Civilization advances because humans are willing to do dangerous things voluntarily. Take away voluntary risk, and you slowly sterilize the species. Which brings me back to this black-end cigar. The construction is fantastic. Drew State has a reputation for bold blends. And this one leans into darker, richer flavors. There's a kind of smoky sweetness under the spice that pairs perfectly with the smell of a motorcycle exhaust and it drifting through the parking lot. A cigar like this demands slow attention. Which is the opposite of modern life. Modern life wants everything faster. Faster food, faster news, faster outrage. Cigars are rebellious in that sense. You can't rush one. You light it, sit down, and for an hour or two you become a patient observer of humanity. And humanity here is putting on a pretty good show. Now let's talk about fashion. Motorcycle rallies have their own unique aesthetic. There's leather everywhere. Leather vests with patches, leather chaps, leather jackets that look like they've survived three decades of highway wind and possibly a minor meteor strike. Then you've got t-shirts. Every biker rally t-shirt contains one of the following elements an eagle, a skull, an American flag, a flaming engine, sometimes all four. Graphic designers at biker t-shirt companies understand their assignment very well. But the real entertainment value is in people watching because this crowd, God bless them, is not shy. Some of the ladies here have made apparel choices that how shall I put this diplomatically may not be strictly aligned with the calendar. But I applaud them, seriously. Confidence is a rare and wonderful thing, and especially in females. And frankly, if someone wants to wear a studded leather halter top at 60 years old, the proper response is admiration. It takes courage. And courage is something biker culture has never been short on. Besides, the alternative is far worse. Imagine a world where everyone dresses according to polite expectations of strangers. You'd get beige sweaters, khaki pants, the fashion equivalent of unbuttered toast. Liberty, by contrast, produces visual chaos, and chaos is interesting. Not one of the things I've always admired about biker gatherings is the tribal nature of it. Motorcycles create community. You see riders who have never met before start conversations instantly. What year is that? What motor are you running? Did you ride from Ohio? These machines become conversation starters. It's mechanical anthropology, humans bonding through technology. And historically speaking, motorcycles have always had this outlaw edge, not necessarily criminal, but independent. Motorcycles don't cage you the way cars do. You're exposed to the wind, the road, the weather, the bugs, the smells. It's sensory overload, which may explain why motorcycle riders often resist regulation. When you're used to the wind in your face at 70 miles per hour, the idea of someone in a distant office dictating how you should live your life starts to feel, well, a bit absurd. And that brings us back to the philosophy behind groups like A-Bate. The core idea is simple. Freedom includes the freedom to make mistakes, which is uncomfortable for people who believe safety must always override autonomy. But here's the paradox the safest possible life is also the least interesting one. Every great story in human history involves someone doing something risky, explorers crossing the oceans, inventors trying untested ideas, pilots pushing aircraft beyond the known limits, motorcycle riders leaning into the curves on coastal highway. Risk is the tax we pay for adventure. Now I take another draw of the blackened cigar, still burning beautifully, ash, holding strong, the flavor has deepened into a dark cocoa earth combination that good Maduro cigars sometimes produce. Classic rock is still blasting inside fishtails. I just heard Born to Be Wild, which might be the most predictable song in the history of motorcycle events, but you know that. Predictable can be perfect because uh that guitar riff hits, every biker within a quarter mile smiles. There's something beautiful about shared cultural rituals like that. Humans are pattern-loving creatures. We build traditions around machines, hot rod culture, aviation culture, motorcycle culture, cigar culture. All of them revolve around craftsmanship and experience. The craftsmanship matters. Take motorcycles. These things are mechanical art. Engines with tolerances measured in thousandths of an inch, precision machining, fluid dynamics and carburetors and fuel injection, the physics of gyroscope, stability, keeping two wheels upright, it's engineering poetry. And when someone customizes a Harley with a chrome part from a shop like FishTales, they're participating in that tradition of mechanical expression. The bike becomes personal. A rolling autobiography. Now as the sun starts dropping a little lower, the parking lot outside FishTales is getting louder, more bikes arriving, more engines rumbling, a few riders revving up their throttles unnecessarily, which, scientifically speaking, is mandatory at these events. The deep rumble of a V-twin engine is a very unique sound. It's not smooth like a Japanese sports bike. It's uneven, lumpy, almost primitive. But that uneven rhythm is exactly what people love. It feels alive, which is fitting because freedom itself is a little uneven, messy, unpredictable, occasionally noisy, but infinitely preferable to a silent word where every decision is made for you. Well, another draw on this cigar, still excellent, still smouldering like a philosophical campfire. In watching this rally kickoff unfold, I'm reminded of something simple. Civilization works best when adults are trusted to live their own lives. Ride the motorcycle, wear the questionable outfit, smoke the cigar, listen to the music too loud, evaluate the risks, make a choice. That's freedom. And like this blackened cigar, it's meant to be savored slowly. Because once you taste it, life without it seems unbearably bland. And on that note, my friends, ends another episode of Liberty on Nicotine.

SPEAKER_01 16:57

Freedom's the flavor in the smoke of mine.