Freedom Isn't Free

I had planned to write up my rendition of the press conference that was held at the capitol Monday morning, in a dry blow-by-blow sort of way, but I walked away from that conference with something else, besides the distaste I had for our state's political blindness. RC had already blogged on this, but I felt the need to vent after seeing this new "dog and pony show". So this is what I saw of this conference, but more importantly, what I saw of RC in action.

The new campaign, "Ride Proud, Dress Loud", is at best a "feel good" move, and will contribute to future problems for motorcyclists everywhere. But RC made damn sure our concerns were heard. If they didn't know him before, they know him now. I knew we'd only get the chance for one or two questions, and I knew RC would hit them hard.

I have known RC for a little more than a year now. Each time I am with him somewhere, fighting the good fight, or supporting our troops, I see something new that smacks me right up the side of the head and says, see, there's another reason this man has more integrity than those lofty politicians sitting up there in their tidy little offices, or the "little Napoleon" who runs the [small] MRO called Abate in this state. Come to think of it, if any Abate members were at this conference, they did not make their presence known. Why am I not surprised at that?

The title to this blog is one of RC's favorite sayings. RC runs the Big Bend Bikers For Freedom blog, and if you haven't been there, you should go and check it out. And if you have been there, you know that RC is every biker's warrior. An "old school" biker in every sense of the word, RC is a bearded, long-haired biker who has been-there-done-that. His sense of fairness and compassion is evident in everything he does; quick to laugh and kind of heart, until you mess with freedom, or give yourself airs you don't deserve. Then you'd better run and hide until you've mapped out 100 ways to make it up. God love him.

So back to the press conference. Now I may be wrong in thinking that many of the 50 odd bikers that showed up for the press conference on Monday were there to hear the speakers, and maybe get on TV, but I know for sure that RC and I went there specifically to challenge the discriminatory flavor of this press conference. And a handful of others I know came for that reason as well. Some who showed up and made the "feel good" comments to reporters that were printed in the media, and may like wearing neon pink; the better to see them when they are riding home drunk after Hooters bike night. OK, I sometimes wear a white and red colored jacket. But that's because I want to. No one is going to dictate to me what I wear when I ride. No one. And I won't give lip service that contradicts that.

So while the majority are either standing around waiting for something to happen, or socializing, RC is documenting, networking, and cornering officials and reporters. I'm still hanging back and making myself available to him when needed. I don't recognize these people yet the way he does.

This press conference was nothing more than a publicity stunt designed to win public approval, in spite of what anyone else thinks. I knew that, RC knew that, but I don't think many others knew that. Some were indignant that anyone would protest such a "feel good" initiative the state had cooked up "for motorcyclists". Lord, help me look past their short-sightedness.

So let's examine why on God's green earth two of this state's freedom fighters would think our freedom is yet again up for grabs.

Fact: 2/3 of all motorcycle deaths are due to negilgent and/or distracted drivers of 4-wheeled automobiles.

Fact: Drivers convicted of right-of-way violations, and killing or injuring a motorcyclist, are fined for a traffic violation and allowed to go free.

Fact: The majority of guilty drivers who kill or injure a motorcyclist can get out of any restitution by stating, "I didn't see him/her".

Fact: Drivers who use cell phones while driving, hands-free or not, are equal to impairment of a driver under the influence of alcohol.

Fact: There are no valid studies that show bright colored clothing, or motorcycle color makes a motorcycle more visible to a driver, especially one who doesn't look.

Fact: Light colored helmets and headlights have proven to be helpful in making motorcycles visible to motorists, WHEN THEY ARE LOOKING.

Fact: The state of Florida now mandates that all new riders must take a state designated rider training course, for about $200.

Fact: There are 29 approved driver education schools for various fees.

Fact: A standard drivers license written test contains no information about motorcycle awareness or cautionary techniques.

Fact: A standard drivers license only requires a driving test and written test. Renewals only require a written test.

Fact: A motorcycle is bound by the same driving laws and is entitled to use the same roads as any other motor vehicle.

Fact: When a helmet-less motorcyclist dies at the hands of a negligent driver, the government and the public focuses on the absence of helmet, not on the guilt of the driver, regardless of the injury that caused the death.

This last fact is the most telling of them all. Tell me, dear readers, once this campaign is going strong, and "Ride Proud, Dress Loud" is plastered all over the state, how often will we now hear, "Well, she didn't see him because he was wearing black"? What this campaign will do is raise awareness for yet another excuse for NOT seeing motorcycles. Now it'll be, "he hit him because he was wearing black, and he died because he wasn't wearing a helmet". God help us all. Next thing you know, some uppity state rep with a hair up his ass, like Carlos-Cantera, will come up with a bill forcing all motorcyclists to wear neon orange vests, helmets, and plaster neon stickers all over our bikes.

There are 15.5 million drivers in Florida, and only 3.9% of them are endorsed. Why is the state trying to convince US to accept sole responsibility for those 2/3 motorcycle fatalities that are not the rider's fault? Does this not smack of the band-aid approach that helmets do? We know that helmets will only protect our heads up to 20mph, and that most fatalities occur at much higher speeds. We know that the head is only part of the body, which contains many other areas where we may be fatally injured, all of which is mangled in a crash between a motorcycle and an automobile. The physics will win every time.

Indeed, that morning I rode my bike down to the capitol, and while sitting at a red light, in the right lane, a pickup truck squeezed past me, IN MY LANE, to make a right hand turn. If I had leaned my body to the right even 6 inches, his mirror would have smacked me in the head. Somehow I doubt that wearing neon orange would have made any difference. My point being, drivers take full advantage of motorcyclists without any regard for their safety, and just don't care about looking for us, or are too distracted to. I've been told the risk of them hitting me is solely mine, because I choose to ride, which, in their mind, absolves them of any wrong-doing.

I would challenge you to an experiment, assuming the Director of FLHSMV has credibility in her statements about color of bike or clothes. While you are out driving your car next time, and you see a motorcyclist coming in the opposite direction from a distance, I'd like you to determine what color the bike is, and what color clothes the motorcyclist is wearing, first thing, the minute you spot them in the distance. Especially if you see a biker on a Harley, or cruiser type of bike. Can you see what he's wearing through the fairing? Can you tell what color the bike is on the small front fender?

Mark my words. Somewhere soon, a motorcyclist is going to die at the hands of a negligent driver, and the first thought that will come into their head as they look at him lying in the road is, "oh my, I didn't see him because he's wearing black, so it isn't my fault".

So yes, we went to that press conference to protest. What were they thinking??? The director of FLHSMV was adamant, in her words to us before the conference started, that this is about "everyone", including other motorists, but the official statements made by her, and by the Tallahassee Police Chief, and the FHP were all about motorcyclists taking the responsiblity and making ourselves even more visible so we don't have to die.

Both LEO's stated that enforcement of dangerous driving would be increased. My first thought was, "and they weren't enforcing all of it before?", then I thought, well that's nice, but what are you going to do about a deterent? What about stiffer penalties for killing someone in a ROWV? Enforcement will merely increase the number of citations paid.

There were other things that just fried my ass at this hearing. Most notably the eight, count 'em, eight motorcycle cops attending to lend a pretty picture with their bikes all lined up by the podium. Why does that piss me off? Because last Saturday the Patriot Guard escorted a fallen soldier through Tallahassee to his final resting place, and the county Sheriff and Police chief refused to give an escort. PG riders blocked roads for the procession, and risked being run over by angry Tallahassee citizens who couldn't wait five minutes for an honored soldier to pass. In the state capitol!

Another thing that came to my attention was the money paid to hire a marketing firm to advertise this campaign, which came out of state motorcycle safety funds. Yet, the state of Florida saw fit to pass an increase in endorsement fees to help pay for rider education, a portion of which is pocketed by the M$F, who will be delivering rider courses we are forced to pay $200 for! Gosh, do I "feel good" yet?

Now back to why 'when I grow up I want to be like RC'.

When the state officials were all done with their flowery speeches, one of the reporters asked if questions would be accepted. No sooner than they accepted this, RC stepped up to the plate. This may not be accurate word for word, as it is quoted from memory, but he asked very clearly, "What specific measures are you going to implement to assure that distracted drivers who kill us are punished?". And true to all politicians and most state officials, they danced around the question and merely repeated the "extra enforcement" comments. So, RC again repeated his question. And for a second round, they repeated their comments. The main thing is, everyone heard his questions. You could have heard a pin drop. And all the reporters were watching, and paying attention.

The officials then stepped down and disbanded, but every one of those reporters and cameramen clustered around RC like moths to a flame. He gave statements and answered questions. Sadly, the reporter that the Tallahassee Democrat sent to the press conference cared little for printing the truth. It most definitely didn't go down with "a roar of approval and motorcycle engines". See that story here.

I tell you here and now, the government will not tell me what to wear when I ride. I've stayed alive this long by treating every other driver as though they would run me down if they had the chance. If you can't see me or hear me coming, YOU DIDN'T LOOK!

And MY campaign will always be "Ride Proud, RIDE Loud". I'll leave the dressing loud for the FSU student body and the bike night drunks. My pipes are loud enough, thank you very much.

And RC? Well, when the chips are down, my vote stays with his. Watch out Florida politicians, he's got your number. Read RC's rendition of this press conference here.

Ride proud, ride loud, ride long, ride free. Freedom isn't free, especially if you're wearing neon pink.

(Note: As of this writing, the Tallahassee Police Chief and the Leon County Sheriff's department are [allegedly] negotiating a policy change to provide police escorts for fallen soldiers returning home to Florida. See the story here.)

Woman Biker Spotlight: A Jewel Among Women

I’ve recently come to know a very special soul in the world of women bikers. This post is about her, and the role she has played in honoring this country’s Veterans, and her life as a woman biker.

Jewels, so nicknamed after her given name of Julie, is a blond woman of 55 years. She is a woman of great passion, evident in everything she says and does. Like me, she is a very trusting soul, and she shared her innermost thoughts with me; about life, and also about her life.

Listening to her tell me the stories of her childhood and family background in the red clay farm country of Donalsonville, Georgia, her ‘Southern Belle’ accent makes one think of Mint Juleps and sultry afternoons on a porch swing overlooking endless fields of cotton.

Originally a ‘left-coaster’, I found myself listening with studied intensity to catch the meaning of words or phrases I’d never heard of, and laughing delightedly at the definition of those I asked about. Her unique way of speaking in half sentences, one running into the next, almost as if her speech cannot keep up with her thoughts, was a challenge for me. But as I came to know her and understand the complex person beneath the small town southern upbringing, I discovered a very intelligent and grounded woman, with a very big heart and a great deal of honesty and integrity. One has only to leave preconceived ideas behind to see what is beneath the surface.

Jewels left her family home, after graduating from high school, seeking to learn about the world beyond what she’d known for 18 years. She realized that staying in the small town where she was raised would eventually suffocate her. Her journey took her to Europe where she met, and married her first and only husband. (When her two sons were small, she divorced, and set about raising them on her own. She never remarried.)

While in England, she owned a 1972 Triumph motorcycle (her first), and rode about the English countryside with friends. Somewhere along the line, she experienced a crash as a passenger and decided riding wasn’t conducive to her safety. Twenty years passed before she rode a motorcycle again.

Jewels obtained an education in the world of real estate and insurance (life, health, and variable annuities) from the University of MD, and the University of VA. In the course of her life, she took other educational courses to supplement her knowledge. She made Washington, DC her home. Through her work, Jewels made friends and rubbed elbows with powerful, high rolling executives, and the common man alike.

I can easily see how Jewels could be at home with anyone, switching from her easy southern speech to that of a professional woman in a very visible position in the world of finance. She is loveable, kind, and holds her own with anyone who presumes to push her around. She is comfortable with who she is, and shows it.

Since I am also one who left the ‘comfort zone’ in life to raise children as a single mother, and to pursue a professional career, I know what it takes to become assertive enough to survive among the professional men of the world. It’s not easy, and it eventually shapes your attitude into one of confidence, with a sometimes solitary content. You want acceptance, but you no longer need it.

Women don’t often successfully achieve that plane of existence, where we feel equal in a professional world. It takes many years to get there, struggling and persevering throughout. The results come from seeing and learning much about the world, and the people in it, learning about ourselves in the process, and adapting.

Washington, DC is the extreme opposite of Donalsonville, GA, and even Tallahassee to some extent. The daily traffic in DC alone can shake even the most confident driver. The business world is dog-eat-dog and only the sharpest survive. You learn, you adapt, or you fail. I can’t see Jewels giving up or failing at anything. Her tenacity is the root of her success.

Throughout her life, Jewels has met life’s challenges head on; even the painful ones. No moss-growing for Jewels. She made many trips back and forth between DC and Georgia to deal with the death of her sister-in-law, who died tragically in a drunk-driving accident. She held her family together and fought for her brother’s right to keep his children as he lay in a hospital fighting for his life. Her worldliness helped her niece and nephew learn to overcome this tragedy and move on with their lives. She allowed these ‘bumps’ in the road to help her grow as a person, rather than let them drag her down.

Around 1995, Jewels met Tommy Rhodes, who became her ‘other half’ and though they chose not to ‘ruin a good thing’ by marrying, Tommy is still a major part of her life.

Tommy was and is an ‘old school’ biker, and Jewels decided that riding full time again was where she wanted to be. Having owned and ridden various motorcycles on and off since 1992, Jewels was secure enough in the world to make it a consistent part of her life. She jumped into the world of bikers, the way she does everything else, with conviction and purpose.

She became actively involved with Rolling Thunder at the national level. Following that, she became a lifetime member of National H.O.G., an active member of Fairfax, Virginia H.O.G., and a member of Ft. Washington H.O.G.

In October of 2002, one month after the 1st anniversary of 911, the Fairfax, VA H.O.G. chapter was contacted by Congressman Frank Wolf, who pointed out that inpatients at Walter Reed Army Medical Center in Washington, DC received all the attention of well-wishers and volunteers, while overflow, outpatients, and families housed on the base received little or nothing.

Fairfax H.O.G. members brainstormed the issue and decided upon a Pizza Party and biker show for these brave souls. With help from the Red Cross, Jewels among others, began the planning and execution. It was their first 'Operation Atlas' Event.

As Jewels tells me of this event, the emotions are evident in her voice and expression. It was the beginning of an effort Jewels needed in her life; giving back to those who gave so much to us in the course of serving our country.

She recalled how heart wrenching it was to see those men, women, and their families, enjoy some respite from the harshness of military service, and how delighted they were that ‘someone’ cared. The smiles were everywhere, and the tears flowed freely.

Speaking for her involvement in the H.O.G. chapter and these charity events, Jewels declared, “No matter which way the wind blows, we will not cease events such as these until the last soldier comes home”. The intense emotion elicited from such an experience would not bar the way.

One is reminded of the passion of Scarlet O’Hara in Gone With The wind, “As God is my witness…..”.

Other events followed at Walter Reed. Jewels arranged for the first decorating party in the recreation center for the Christmas holidays. Fairfax H.O.G. members were also asked to hold the first breakfast for the soldiers on Christmas morning (some 200 hungry participants) at the Maloyne House. Add to that, along with other organizations who helped with the expenses, they purchased gas and phone cards for the troops and their family members.

In August of 2005, with her sons grown and off on their own, Jewels decided it was time to “go home”. She packed up and moved back to southern Georgia, and then to Tallahassee to be closer to the employment pool, which presented another challenge.

Tallahassee is termed a “little big town”. It may be where the Capitol of Florida is, but employment in Tallahassee is nothing like Washington, DC. Many years ago, I moved to the high-tech region of New England and Boston, where high paying jobs are plentiful for the educated professional. Tallahassee is a college town, and for every job there are 20 applicants. Pay is directly proportional to the low cost of living in the area. Nevertheless, Jewels chose to move home regardless of the job opportunities.

However, armed with the numerous rental homes Jewels owns to supplement her income, she searched for the right job. After trial and error positions, she moved into a job with AAA Insurance.

“The pay here is nothing like working in DC,” Jewels tells me, “but I love the work, and I’m happy”. (How many of us can make that claim?) A further testament to Jewels adaptability, and character.

Jewels’ need for charity work continued in Tallahassee, with her involvement in a local motorcycle group called the Chrome Divas, consisting of all women riders. She also became an active member of the local Tallahassee H.O.G chapter.

“These days, military facilities are off limits to civilians, because of Journalists.” Jewels informed me.

“Getting in to visit Veterans now takes an ‘act of Congress’, unless you have a track record and know the people who run the volunteer programs.”

In April of 2006, Jewels began what would be a lengthy attempt to contact the right person at the Veterans Hospital in Lake City, FL. She never gave up.

More than a year later, in June of 2007, after speaking to many uninterested people and months of leaving many phone messages, she connected with someone who could give her the permission to organize a visit to the Veterans residing there; a gentleman by the name of Michael Allen.

The initial reluctance to allow this visit to happen was met with the tenacity Jewels is so famous for. She patiently explained that it was not a solicitation, and she merely wanted to gather a group of bikers together, and bring them out to visit the Veterans; a gift of appreciation, nothing more. Michael Allen decided to trust Jewels, and allowed her to make the arrangements.

The ride was scheduled for November 10, 2007. All 13 riders were proud members of the Patriot Guard Riders, a nationwide organization dedicated to serving and honoring those who fight for our freedom. Six of those riders were also members of the Chrome Divas. Jewels was the only member of Rolling thunder. You can read Jewels’ account of this visit here.

If Jewels has her way (and I have no doubt she will), this will become a regular thing. Thank God for people like Jewels. She is certainly anything but “ordinary”. Those with such big hearts, like Jewels has, will always have room for others, and her selfless motivation to include so many deserving souls in her world makes her stand out in the “spotlight” of women bikers, and the world in general.

Jewels currently resides in Crawfordville, Florida, a small town south of Tallahassee. She shares her home with her tiny (and old) dog, Tyler, and rides her Dyna Low Rider whenever the opportunity arises.

Patriot Guard fundraiser for Cpl Cabaniss

RC said it all on his blog already - so I won't write it all over again. You can see the photos he took on his blog, Big Bend Bikers For Freedom.

I will add though that it was just me and RC who rode down from Tally, and RC led the way, not only because he is the senior PGR member (and knows the route better than I do), but he also has a longer pony tail!

To witness or not to witness....

After writing the previous post, it occurred to me that my "urge" to make anyone and everyone aware of the Patriot Guard Rdiers is rather like witnessing as a Christian. This morning, in a business meeting, after all business had concluded, I found myself telling all of them about the "mission" on Sunday.

We all "witness" in some way or another. We tell each other about that great [your favorite restaurant, spa, or service] and what a positive experience we had. In my life, I look for things that promote the presence of God, and how he works in our everyday lives. When speaking of these things, some nod absently, while others enthusiastically tell you their own stories.

Since becoming a member of the Patriot Guard, I have found yet another way to "witness", since I know without a doubt that God has worked another miracle in touching the hearts of this group. Telling people about them grabs their interest. Many know nothing of them, as I also did not just a few months ago.

In my other self-centered life; trudging along, making ends meet, and looking for that next "big thrill", I was blissfully unaware of what was going on in my own backyard. Many times I had fleeting thoughts of how I could contribute to my own community and the lives of others, besides my church, but the small sleepy town I lived in (in the northeast), preferred to keep to themselves and they didn't let outsiders in too readily. I lived there eight years before coming to Florida.

Making a move from the northeast to the southeast was not a crisis for me. I grew up in southern California, moved to the northwest in my 20's, relocated again to the central west coast in my 30's, and then again to the northeast in my 40's. I've been all over this country in my line of work, and even to europe a number of times. I'm often asked, "where the heck are you from anyway??", as I have picked up favorite nuances of the various accents from everywhere I go.

The thing I've taken away from each place is how strangers are treated, and how local residents treat each other. I chose the south, for the Florida panhandle is truly part of the "south", while the rest of Florida really is not, because I fell in love with the "southern" hospitality and the way they treat each other, and the way they treat strangers. From the first day of living here, I became one of them, in spite of my strange speech and northerner ways. I must say I'm warming up to that southern kinda "thang". People smile more and are rather "touchy feely". I rather like that. I think people smile more because the sun shines more, or maybe it's just me. When I ride out on my bike, and pass my neighbors walking the dog, or a child riding his/her bike, they wave. My neighbors came over and introduced themselves to me the day I moved in. Another neighbor helped me move some heavy things into the house (yep, I moved myself and while doing so I often thought to myself, "what the heck was I thinking?"). I live alone, but I've never felt alone here.

Since I don't have a trailer for my bike, and I needed to move it out of storage into my new garage (it had a flat tire), I thought, well I'll just search online for a motorcycle group who might help me. That's when I ran across the Chrome Divas (http://tallahasseefl.chromedivas.com/), and I emailed them. Within hours I had offers of help. As it turned out, another new friend enlisted a friend of a friend, who arrived with a trailer, loaded up my bike, and delivered it into my garage. But my connection with the Divas was to be a straight line to some new and very wonderful friendships. I'll be posting more on my rides with them later on.

So, getting back to my conversation this morning - telling these people I had previously never met about my experience with the Patriot Guard Riders, really lightened my day. They listened, they smiled, they touched me lightly with their hands, and I knew they could feel the excitement I felt. They all asked for the URL and seemed genuinely interested in reading more about them.

I'd say that's witnessing for the Lord, wouldn't you? How many people are just "looking" for a way to contribute to the world, or even just their own community? How many want to support our troops but haven't found the right way (for them) yet? How many are like me and hate the war, but love our men and women in the military and stand behind them 100%?

We all have some miracle or another to tell someone. The PGR is mine at the moment. This is God's work at His best. What else provides hope for a better future than God's work? Those men and women over in Iraq need that hope. They need to know that our country stands behind them. I'm one voice in the midst of over 100,000. I think they hear us.

To witness or not to witness; it's not a question for me. One of those people, surely, will go to the PGR website, and they'll tell others. Perhaps they'll join. RC posted a comment to my first blog, and he quotes [someone] who said, "One voice may be a whisper but a thousand can be a roar". And I say.... exactly.

Patriot Guard Riders

For my first blog here, I want to talk about something that has caught and held my attention like a deer to headlights. The Patriot Guard Riders; if you ride, you've probably heard of them. Their website (http://www.patriotguard.com/) boasts over 100,000 members nationally. If you haven't been there and read through this site, do yourself a favor and go there... now.

OK, been there? Now I'll get on with this.

One of the friends I ride with invited me to ride on a Patriot Guard "mission". I was intrigued after hearing what they stand for, and I welcomed a chance to ride. I was not prepared in the least for what I was about to experience.

Before I get into a description of that day, let me just say that as a rider, I am often sneered at by other drivers, ignored by mothers with their children when I walk into a store in my leather riding gear, or looked at with astonishment that I, a respectable mother of two, would ride with such "rough and irreputable" people. What I know to be true, is that motorcycle riders are just people like anyone else. They have families, pay their taxes, and work for a living, just like me. They are caring and giving people. However, the general non-riding public refuses to ackowledge this fact. I know, because I see it all the time. The Patriot Guard Riders will change that, and have already. History is in the making.

So I meet with this group of people, who are about to ride to a church and stand guard with their flags and create a protective atmosphere for a bereaved family, who'd lost their son, a soldier, in the line of duty. OK, I'm thinking, I want to be part of that.

If you've read up on the PGR website, you'll already know that this group was formed in response to some protesters from a cult church who decided they should protest the war by making hurtful and rude signs, then attempting hold them up in full view of a family who'd lost their loved one in the war. The PGR mission: to prevent anything from disrupting the reverence, honor and respect deserved by this young soldier who'd lost his life protecting our freedom.

As I stood in the flag line and watched the family and friends walk between us and file into the church, I held myself at attention and struggled not to cry. I didn't know these people, yet I did. They are responsible for having a son brave enough to fight for MY freedom. I was obligated to be there and I didn't know it until that day.

As we rode in the long procession behind the hearse, some 50 bikes strong, not one person revved their motor, and it almost seemed like the quietest of days in spite of the rumble from all the bikes. And at the grave site, we once again stood in two lines, surrounding the family, standing in honor and respect. I could see the faces of the family, and I believe we brought some semblance of peace to them.

The creation of the Patriot Guard has, and will keep doing so, enabled the world (and yes the world, for there are comments and letters from everywhere about the Patriot Guard) to see that those who ride bikes have heart; they are respectable, and honorable human beings.

I never served in the military, but I have enormous respect for those who did and do. In my youth, I wanted to fly jets, go to war and shoot big guns. They didn't let women do that back then, and the Vietnam war era was ending. I've spent my life doing all the things freedom lets me do, and now I can give something back to those who fight for me.

I went home that day with the knowledge that God had led me to the PGR and here I am. I'm hooked.

I am not a proponent of war, but I am a supporter of those who are asked to go to war for this country. They are called, and they go, and they know what has to be done and are willing to do it. For that I owe them whatever it is I can give. The fact that I can ride free because of them is poetic in that now I can ride for them.

Yesterday, I rode with the PGR again. Men and women, of all ages. War veterans, and civilians. All came to pay their respect and honor one who paid a very big price for our freedom. He kept his life, but lost his legs and hands. As I looked down at my own hands and legs, I said a prayer and asked God to please look after this very important person and his family.

And while you're at it Lord? Could you remind that inattentive driver to look before pulling out in front of me? Or wake up that glazed over looking business man so he won't fade into my lane on the interstate? Thank you Lord, I'll be riding with the Guard next time around, if it be your will.