The Long Way Around Ego

Last week was a busy damn week. Normal work chaos. A two-day training packed into it. And the real gut punch? I didn’t have Nyx, my 2025 Harley Road Glide, all fucking week. She’s at Harley-Davidson in Santa Fe for what will likely be her only warranty repair.

When I first had her diagnosed, I took her to a mechanic I trust completely. He found the issue in ten minutes and called me immediately, because that’s what good service looks like. He suggested I take her to Harley since it was a known warranty problem.

In hindsight, I kind of wish I hadn’t.

I haven’t had my bike for ten days. Ten days of driving my pickup to work and relying on my Breakout for small doses of throttle therapy. It’s not the same. And yes, I get sad about it.

When I dropped Nyx off, the service guy told me she’d be ready Wednesday.

Yes, I had a TBI. No, my memory isn’t that bad. I know what he said.

That Saturday, I stopped in to order maintenance manuals and asked if we were still on track for Wednesday.

“Yes,” he said.

I even told him I probably wouldn’t pick her up until Friday. He assured me that was fine, that they didn’t charge storage fees.

Wednesday came and went. I couldn’t make it before closing because they shut down at five and I work an hour away.

But Thursday? The stars aligned. I left work early, rushed home, grabbed my leathers, and drove like a maniac to Harley. I parked across the street so my truck wouldn’t get locked behind the gate and walked in ready to ride my girl home.

The guy at the service counter looked at me and said: “I never said it would be ready. I said they would look at it on Wednesday.”

That’s not what he said.

And I hate liars. And, I got pissed. Not controlled. Not measured. Just pissed.

I said some things he didn’t need to hear that close to closing time. Stormed out. Everyone in the building knew I was angry.

The next day, my day off, it didn’t sit right.

Yes, I felt lied to. Yes, I left work early for nothing. Yes, I was disappointed. But my reaction? That was mine.

So I went back and I apologized. Not because he was right, but because I didn’t like who I was in that moment.

Then I rode Aurora all day and let the wind sand the edges down.

Fast forward to yesterday.

I stopped by Harley to grab a pair of their summer riding gloves, the one kind only they seem to get right.

As I was leaving, the store manager approached me. He said he’d seen me leave angry that day and had been meaning to reach out because he was genuinely concerned.

And here’s the thing, he wasn’t performing. He wasn’t smoothing over a complaint. He was human. He was concerned.

That caught me.

I gave him the highlights without throwing the service guy under the bus. Nothing was going to change the outcome. I told him I’d thought the bike would be ready, that I’d left work early, that I’d been frustrated. I told him I’d apologized.

He thanked me. I thanked him for caring.

And then I mounted Aurora in the most sensual way I know, fired her up, and left.

I don’t know if there’s a grand lesson here. Maybe it’s this: Ego flares fast. Humility travels slower, but it eventually catches up if you let it. Maybe it’s that integrity isn’t about never getting angry. It’s about circling back when you don’t like your own behavior.

Maybe it’s that good leadership isn’t just what you do at work, it’s how you clean up your messes when your emotions outrun your character.

Or maybe it’s simpler. Maybe sometimes the long way around is the better ride.