Kelley I am not much good at story telling but here ya go.
My father, who used to take me for rides on his bike when I was a little guy had his bell tied on the bottom frame of his Harley with a little strip of leather, when I asked about it he told me my uncle who was a road captain with a motorcycle club gave him his to keep evil spirits from hitching rides.
So on the day I got my first bike I came home and my father was sitting in the driveway of our house cleaning his bike and told me to go into the garage and get him a towel to finish wiping it down, and there sat a 1983 wide glide(I love the old ones). After running a few laps around the house and yelling like it was the end of the world for another half hour
My dad tells me to pack some clothes we are going to Daytona for bike week, all this about 3 weeks before I leave for boot camp. To this point me and my father had never been really close not in the sense that we hated each other but he was a military man for 32 years and was not big on showing what he felt, it just kind of went without saying.
About 1 hour into the trip we stop to eat at this small restaurant, we pull up, park and when I put down the side stand I hear something ring and there is a small bell tied to the frame with a small strip of leather. I looked back at my dad who just smiles and says you can never be to careful. The trip brought me and my dad very close, we spent 2 weeks just us and I found out a lot about him that I never knew.
My father no longer rides as his health will not permit and although this may sound stupid, every time I hear that bell ring when I take a ride I think about that trip and how close it brought me and my father, so it holds more meaning to me than just keeping me safe from road gremlins.
He sold his bike and gave me the bell he had on it, I wear it tied to my body armor now with a small strip of leather, I guess you can never be to careful.