The Darkness was absolute.
The silence overwhelming.
Breathing cold air, moist and heavy.
My senses were overrun
like being on the Moon.Hundreds of feet under ground,
Hunched forward squeezing down the tight triangular tunnel,
braced with rough timber, this shaft runs more than 1,500 feet into shadow.
My mother told me she didn’t want to be buried underground.
Panic won’t change a thing
just keep moving
further into darkness.
Courage is action in the face of fear.After the blackness, the light on the surface is overpowering.
Jordan Harris bumps his flat track racer to life,
roaring through the gears, banging off the rev limiter at end of the straights,
drifting through the turns,
reveling in the freedom that motorcycles bring.
The contrast could not be greater.There is no doorway to the mine.
You climb into a metal cart that’s on a steep incline:
slip or fall and you’ll tumble hundreds of feet down the main shaft.
There are no nets or reset buttons here.
The descent was unnerving.
Jordan yelled in a happy-go-lucky voice;
“Michael! Keep your hands in or they’ll be crushed off!”
We finally stop and get out.
I fumble for the light on my helmet.Jordan Harris walks off, whimsically singing ‘Friends in Low Places’.
I’m aware of every step I take, searching for my ‘pitch legs.’
He explains mining operations – pitch, gravity and blasting.
Yes blasting, how many jobs can you name with dynamite in daily use?
Jordan tells us to watch out for the chutes.
They seem bottomless in the dim light.We finally reach the man-way and start upward.
It’s a narrow, near-vertical climb on a wet, crude, handmade wooden ladder
that feels like it goes up forever.
Water runs past us,
our backs hit the wall behind us as we climb.As I reach the next plateau, I look back down to see how my friend, photographer Steve Koletar is doing.
Weighted down by his cameras, it’s slow moving, one step at a time.
Suddenly his left hand swings loose.
I think ‘Oh No!’
He reaches back and grabs one of his cameras.
I am blinded by the strobe, as he fires off a series of shots.
A consummate professional at work.
His grunts and chuckles tells me he’s enjoying the madness.
The miners are pushed hard by the government,
and joke it would be easier to sell drugs than earn an honest living.
The fines and punishment would be less too.Motorcycles, strip pits, beer & blowing shit up.
It’s all part of growing up in mining country.
His dad got him riding as a boy.
Racing MX at six, ovals by eleven.
At fourteen, he was hit by a truck when he was riding a berm on the edge of the road,
his badly broken right leg require ten surgeries to correct.Later in teen years, summer weeks were spent riding at the Texter’s farm.
Central Pennsylvania is a flat track talent mine.
Jordan now rides for RRCF Racing in Production Twins class.
He married his high school sweetheart Whitney, and now they have a daughter, Everlee.The Springfield Mile is one of the premier events of the season.
With TV cameras rolling, he gets introduced to the crowd.
The warm up lap burns off some of the anxiety.
Focus on being calm, blipping the throttle, lights go Green.
Hole shot! It’s the start he prayed for.
Now its about hitting his marks perfectly.
Just ‘two-wheeling’, flat track slang for keeping your wheels inline.The Mile looks simple from above, but it’s a complicated game.
Its all about getting the drive onto the straight to attain and maintain top speed.
Drafting is critical.
The entry into the turns will take your breath away, lap after lap.
Harris must remind himself to breathe or else he will tire too early.
All is going perfectly until he hears the sound of engines getting closer.
Jordon is doing everything he can to be perfect.
Still two riders beat him home.
Gutted but smiling, he stands on the podium in 3rd.
They wonder why he did not keep his pace.
It’s not until weeks later we learn from the engine builder Roy Miller, that the motor was close to dropping a valve. He writes it off to God’s will.(Want to get ahead of the next fitness craze?
The cold temperatures of the mine are perfect for a total body workout.
Swinging a pick, shoveling, and endless climbing.
Add the dark and silence for meditation: mining could satisfy your physical & spiritual needs.)
The silence overwhelming.
Breathing cold air, moist and heavy.
My senses were overrun
like being on the Moon.Hundreds of feet under ground,
Hunched forward squeezing down the tight triangular tunnel,
braced with rough timber, this shaft runs more than 1,500 feet into shadow.
My mother told me she didn’t want to be buried underground.
Panic won’t change a thing
just keep moving
further into darkness.
Courage is action in the face of fear.After the blackness, the light on the surface is overpowering.
Jordan Harris bumps his flat track racer to life,
roaring through the gears, banging off the rev limiter at end of the straights,
drifting through the turns,
reveling in the freedom that motorcycles bring.
The contrast could not be greater.There is no doorway to the mine.
You climb into a metal cart that’s on a steep incline:
slip or fall and you’ll tumble hundreds of feet down the main shaft.
There are no nets or reset buttons here.
The descent was unnerving.
Jordan yelled in a happy-go-lucky voice;
“Michael! Keep your hands in or they’ll be crushed off!”
We finally stop and get out.
I fumble for the light on my helmet.Jordan Harris walks off, whimsically singing ‘Friends in Low Places’.
I’m aware of every step I take, searching for my ‘pitch legs.’
He explains mining operations – pitch, gravity and blasting.
Yes blasting, how many jobs can you name with dynamite in daily use?
Jordan tells us to watch out for the chutes.
They seem bottomless in the dim light.We finally reach the man-way and start upward.
It’s a narrow, near-vertical climb on a wet, crude, handmade wooden ladder
that feels like it goes up forever.
Water runs past us,
our backs hit the wall behind us as we climb.As I reach the next plateau, I look back down to see how my friend, photographer Steve Koletar is doing.
Weighted down by his cameras, it’s slow moving, one step at a time.
Suddenly his left hand swings loose.
I think ‘Oh No!’
He reaches back and grabs one of his cameras.
I am blinded by the strobe, as he fires off a series of shots.
A consummate professional at work.
His grunts and chuckles tells me he’s enjoying the madness.
Jordan Harris grew up around coal.
He entered the mines at seventeen.
Once got a job up top, but couldn’t deal with the bullshit.
Six months later he returned to the family mine.
You are a self-made man here, living and dying with the price of coal.
Not worried about the future,
laughing that “its going to take a lot of coal to power all those electric cars.’
The miners are pushed hard by the government,
and joke it would be easier to sell drugs than earn an honest living.
The fines and punishment would be less too.Motorcycles, strip pits, beer & blowing shit up.
It’s all part of growing up in mining country.
His dad got him riding as a boy.
Racing MX at six, ovals by eleven.
At fourteen, he was hit by a truck when he was riding a berm on the edge of the road,
his badly broken right leg require ten surgeries to correct.Later in teen years, summer weeks were spent riding at the Texter’s farm.
Central Pennsylvania is a flat track talent mine.
Jordan now rides for RRCF Racing in Production Twins class.
He married his high school sweetheart Whitney, and now they have a daughter, Everlee.The Springfield Mile is one of the premier events of the season.
With TV cameras rolling, he gets introduced to the crowd.
The warm up lap burns off some of the anxiety.
Focus on being calm, blipping the throttle, lights go Green.
Hole shot! It’s the start he prayed for.
Now its about hitting his marks perfectly.
Just ‘two-wheeling’, flat track slang for keeping your wheels inline.The Mile looks simple from above, but it’s a complicated game.
Its all about getting the drive onto the straight to attain and maintain top speed.
Drafting is critical.
The entry into the turns will take your breath away, lap after lap.
Harris must remind himself to breathe or else he will tire too early.
All is going perfectly until he hears the sound of engines getting closer.
Jordon is doing everything he can to be perfect.
Still two riders beat him home.
Gutted but smiling, he stands on the podium in 3rd.
They wonder why he did not keep his pace.
It’s not until weeks later we learn from the engine builder Roy Miller, that the motor was close to dropping a valve. He writes it off to God’s will.(Want to get ahead of the next fitness craze?
The cold temperatures of the mine are perfect for a total body workout.
Swinging a pick, shoveling, and endless climbing.
Add the dark and silence for meditation: mining could satisfy your physical & spiritual needs.)
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The Coal Miners Grandson
I grew up around coal mining as well . The difference was when my grandfather had the chance to escape the hell that coal mining is he took it at age 16 and never looked back . One time as a child I asked him how he could take such a chance , moving to another state , taking on a completely different job leaving family and friends behind having no idea what he was walking into
( He’d answered an ad placed all across the coal mining towns of western Penn. aimed at eastern European immigrants by the owners of Johns – Manville that said if you can read this [ grandad was one of the few of his generation that could read having made it to 6th grade ] we have a better life for you moving to what became Manville NJ )
His answer being a very blunt eastern European was simple ; ” After watching my father , brothers , uncles and friends die in the death traps of coal mines and seeing what coal mining towns and their owners did to the families left behind I’d decided if the opportunity didn’t work out I’d be better off selling pencils on the (explicative ) street than ever setting foot in a coal mine ever again ”
When later in life I asked about the Asbestosis issues he said quite plainly ; ” Had we stayed in coal mining we’d of been dead by age 45 where here I am at 80 still going strong despite weakening lungs ”
So much for the myth , honor and glory of what was and still is an exploitive ( explicative ) filthy industry that harms everything and every one it touches in order to fill its own back pockets . e,g, Reality Check 101
And thanks grandad … had you decided otherwise who knows where I’d be today
Rock On – Ride On – Remain Calm ( despite all the bs ) and do Carry On .. 😎
Respect for this fine young man living life to its fullest, faces life head on. Work ethic has a new meaning after reading this story. May God Bless you and your family Jordan.
WOW – what a story !
What a movie !
Great young guy with great writing, pictures to match and highlight.