It's a warm summer day at DUB headquarters, and Darryl McDaniels, better known as DMC of Run-DMC, is describing the last few years of his life. This interview may be a typical experience for Darryl, one of many in a career that has spanned over two decades, but today is an exceptional day. It's his birthday, and though Darryl isn't sentimental, May 31st holds special significance for him.

The man, the myth, the co-founder of one of the most influential groups of the twentieth century is peacefully composed, with a streak of energy and animation that would best be described as a certain joie de vivre. But D reveals that he fell into a depression about ten years ago that would spiral into despair, alcoholism, and suicidal thoughts. "That period between 1996 and 2000," he reflects, "was just the incubation period for something bigger, something greater for me."

His childhood was unusually privileged. "Growing up," D says, "every day was like Christmas," and he admits that without this carefree environment he would never have had the freedom to embark on his musical journey. "Walk This Way," the song that seared hip-hop into the national consciousness in its unlikely collision with rock 'n roll, would never come to be. Without the idyllic circumstances that sent him to St. John's University, he would have never met Joseph "Run" Simmons and Jason "Jam Master Jay" Mizell, and he most certainly would not be sitting here at DUB doing yet another interview.

But Darryl would join the rap group that would become first to go platinum and multi-platinum, the first to be on the cover of Rolling Stone, and the first to receive a Grammy nomination. His accomplishments in the world of music, though, could not prepare him for the discovery that would change his identity for the rest of his life. Darryl McDaniels would later find out that he was adopted.

That piece of information was seismic enough to transform his fame and fortune into a horror story worthy of a VH-1 "Behind the Music" special, and it dragged him into a deep despair that lasted several years. One day he turned on the radio, and a song happened to be playing that would save his life. "I was depressed, I was suicidal, and I listened to that record every day," he recalls. "It was the only thing that gave me life. It was the crutch that carried me through that time of uncertainty."

The song-- Sarah McLachlan's "Angel"-- may seem like an unlikely source of inspiration for the Devastating Mic Controller, but DMC was a man whose musical interests during childhood ranged from the Doobie Brothers and Elton John to the Beatles and Bob Dylan. While the contemplative ballad from the Canadian songstress would fill DMC with new hope, the puzzle of his fate wouldn't fit together until three years later when he met her at Clive Davis's Grammy party in Los Angeles. "I ranted and raved and told her she was a god to me and that her song was the only thing that gave me hope, and she says, 'Thank you for telling me that, Darryl, because that's what music is supposed to do.'" And with that, she shook his hand and walked away.

As Darryl further incubated, it would be another three years before he found himself recording a duet with Sarah in her home studio in Vancouver, British Columbia, where she would eventually reveal that she, too, was adopted.

D's path of musical exploration has been paved with his will to pioneer a revolutionary style, while simultaneously thinking outside the box of the genre of hip-hop. "The hustler and the player and the pimp is hip-hop," he explains, "but so is the kid that works at McDonald's because he don't wanna stand on the corner and hustle."

DMC's creativity has been most recently revealed not only through his genre-bending solo album, Checks Thugs and Rock N Roll, but in the redefinition of his personal style. "I was at a point where I didn't wanna rap about my sneakers no more. I didn't wanna rap about me, me, me," he explains. "Hip hop is bigger than that, you know what I'm sayin'? How does the B-Boy grow up into the B-Man?"

DMC's modern sensibilities are expressed in his tricked out TIS Edition 2007 Chevy Tahoe sitting on huge, white-accented, chrome lipped 26-inch TIS 10s with Kumho Ecsta STX 305/30 tires. A Beltech Suspension lowers the Tahoe 4 inches up front and 6 inches at the rear, and the body is accented with a custom TIS roof, door handles, rear bumper, running boards, chrome tow hooks, grille, smoked tail lights, and color-matched Chevrolet bowtie emblems. Inside, suede adds a plush touch to the Tahoe's seats and headliner.

D's personal style has also developed through his recent involvement with Harley-Davidson motorcycles. "Every time I would be driving and I'd see a Harley pull up," he says, "it was like, wow I gotta get that. They're big, they're loud, they're aggressive, they're thick. They're not rock 'n roll. Those Harley-Davidsons are hip-hop. That fits me, just like Adidas fits me, just like my black hat fits me, just like the Gazelles fit me." His eyes light up. "It's thugged out, it's gangsta, it's rough," he continues. "It expresses my personality."

By taking riding courses and rocking genuine Harley apparel, DMC has become what he calls "fully Harley-Davidsonized," a move made complete by his indulgence in a 2007 Harley-Davidson Fatboy. His bike sports a vivid black paint job that echoes the lyrics, "I'm like Johnny Cash / I'm the man in black," from his solo album. Sporting redesigned features that include a Twin Cam 1,584cc 96B engine, a 6-speed Cruise Drive Transmission, and thicker, 200mm rear tires wrapped in a chopped rear fender, the smooth-riding Harley is an imposing reflection of D's fiercely independent attitude. Also new for 2007 are slick styling details such as an internally wired handlebar, silver Bullet Hole Disc Cast Aluminum wheels, a two-up seat with bullet laced valence, and matching laced triple bullet tank straps. The style is outlaw rebel, and is both distinctly retro and boldly current.

While DMC's attitude was shaped by hip-hop culture, it has matured and become forged through a period of intense personal growth that has redefined his role in the world around him. Does Harley-Davidson contextualize his newfound identity? "The reason I love Harley-Davidson is 'cuz of this: if you think about Run-DMC, you think authentic, class, dependability, you're getting' the real deal, it's official. When you think of Run-DMC, you think of a culture. Harley-Davidson is like a culture. So for me, it was the perfect thing."

And, in a larger sense, Darryl McDaniels has grown beyond the limitations of a genre he helped define and allowed it to expand into something much bigger. "You have a responsibility," he explains, "I may not be a role model-I just got out of rehab and I had my share of sex, drugs, and rock and roll-but I came to realize that I represent something. I represent the Harleys, I represent the DUBs, I represent the rock music, and I represent the world."

"Look at me," he asserts. "I had something to fulfill. I did it. It doesn't matter that you were given up for adoption or you're in foster care. As long as you're here on the face of this earth, you have a purpose and a destination."

After seeking the truth and finding it in spades, Darryl McDaniels can finally say that he has arrived at his destination.