I was checking out my nifty computer earlier today. I checked e-mails, Face book, horoscopes, library lists, map quest, the Ohio State Fair. Nothing was extraordinary, really. I tweeted,I posted, I chatted, I Linked-In. I responded to funnies, nasty-grams. I wept when I brought up my banking screen. Ah, business as usual. And then...two invitations struck me...right in my Cyber-Space.
"Poker Run on Saturday. Breakfast at Am Vets at 10. Ride for Disabled Veterans, dinner and music, dancing at post afterwards. Come join the fun!"
NOT A SHOT!!!! 1,000,000 MILES ON A BIKE? I LOVE VETERANS, BUT, CAN I EAT AND WALK?
AND
"Ride for the best Bologna Sandwiches in Ohio...meet behind Dot's Market. 100 miles...Worth it!"
NOT A SHOT!!!! 100 MILES FOR A SANDWICH ON THE BACK OF A 'BIKE"? OUCH!!!
God love my friend! Let me back up...
One lonely evening, about three, maybe four years ago, I was sitting in our local Am Vets establishment. I had been making jokes, riddles and funny stories with a friend, who happened to be a "Rider". (He portrayed Darla Darling's (ME) motorcycle riding husband. In one episode, I did take a short ride on the back of the bike with a plant...don't ask). Those are the Veterans with time and buckets of cash to ride Harley-Davidson Motorcycles. Am Vets has "Riders" I am a member of the Auxiliary, by the way, but that is so not what I am writing about! Scot's friend, "Rags" walked in. I froze! I mean that fear overcame me! There stood a 6'3" leather clad, lean, imposing man! Black boots, black leather everything except for his rugged features! Tall, silent, strong. The weenie in me trembled as what was left of my arms and legs melted like warm Jell-O. He sort of glanced my way. The smarty pants, quick mouthed, fast wit ME was struck dumb! We all left at about the same time. Scot a.k.a. "Shooter" and "Rags" left at about the same time that I did. There in the parking lot, not far from my little white car stood two huge Harley-Davidson Motorcycles. EEEEEKS.
Fast forward, time passed. About two years ago, I went to a fund raiser "Hair For Kids" at Am Vets. The trio had participated in a bowling afternoon to contribute funds for wigs for Children Cancer Patients. After raffles, dinner, the children went home with my daughter. "Rags" was there! He had on a designer shirt, nice pants, real shoes! No bandanna, but smart hair cut! Rugged, handsome. Hmmmmm. He was speaking with other "Riders" about real subjects. He conversed about theatre, a CLIO Award, his career, etc. Then the music started! This man could dance!!!! I mean, I hadn't met a dancer like him since my Cousin John and Billy (dance contest partner...mentioned a number of blogs ago). So, he asked me to dance! Oh, but yes!!!! That man could move and never stop! I asked him where he learned to dance like he did (picturing stomping in biker boots). I learned that with about 1,000,000 older sisters, at least that many Bar Mitzvahs, he hadn't a choice but to learn to dance and to learn well!
He had made a comment that if he knew that I needed television cameras to get on a "Bike", he would have signed up for DARLA, years ago! So, we arranged to "go riding" on the following Tuesday. I had taken a spin with "Dan Darling" when we took "La Petite" (our plant) for a ride (comedy show, don't ask). So, this may not be a bad "thing". I stressed about what to wear. Suzanne ( a go-to sort who knows many things and is helpful friend) and I came up with an outfit. I was ready on time (miraculously). We rode gently to what I thought was a rustic, quaint restaurant. (It turns out that it was a Biker Bar...who knew?). The spring and summer were passing! I was invited to participate in a Poker Run (I told Mom that it was a fundraiser for Veterans like a progressive dinner...not on the back of a motorcycle). We rode on motorcycles in a group to various VFW and AMVET posts, wound up miles and miles later with sore bums and starving for dinner. I was told that I was a "natural". It was easy to have me on the back of a "Bike" and so it went.
I was no longer afraid of "Rags", but, I still had a lot of respect for two wheels and a motor on real roads. Okay, I was a little frightened. Scratch that...I was scared, but I could hold on like no body's business! I wore out two sets of Rosary Beads at about that time, as well.
AND THEN
"Hey, Laura! Do you want to see the moving Vietnam Wall? It will be in Sydney this weekend!" Now kids, get this...Sydney is at least a 1 1/2 hour ride by highway. I specifically wouldn't/won't ride a motorcycle on a highway...so, how far? " We'll (Riders & all Vietnam Veterans), have breakfast, ride up, see the wall, spend the day, have dinner later..." Note to self; NEVER, EVER respond as I did again: "Oh, sure! I'll go to early Mass and quickly change before breakfast! Sounds great!" NOT!
That morning, I went to Mass. I hustled to secure my hair, put on a new Biker get up (he used to own a biker store in Florida after winning CLIO, etc), smartly rode about four inches on the Harley for breakfast with the Riders. Ah-ha. Official "road captains" led the formation to the Wall...well, actually, we rode back roads for an hour or so. We rode, attentive to "captains". We rode, backtracked, rode, circled, detoured and after two hours, were officially lost! After stopping at a tiny country store, we learned that we were really lost! Beyond lost...I mean LOST! The only remedy...Interstate Highway 75 North! A highway!!!!! Oh no! Oh no, no,no!!!
We climbed on the Motorcycles. The "Riders" revved their engines. One by one, the Bikes took off. Rags glanced over his shoulder..."I'm sorry kid! You'll be fine. Hold on. Ready?" Off we went! I proceeded to hold on so tightly around his body that I am surprised that he didn't suffer cracked ribs. I am surprised that he could breathe at all. For twenty minutes, we drove up the highway. For twenty minutes, I held on so tightly that my arms were numb! I choked back tears. I prayed as if the local Monastery needed Religious Education.
We arrived at the field of the Wall. One by one, the Riders parked their bikes in a perfect line. Reverently, the Riders removed their bandannas. Silently, they processed to the Wall. Citizens began thanking the men for their service. A murmur could be heard telling stories of loved ones. Rags was swept up in the moment, the emotions, the loss, a different time and place. The men practically held hands as they approached the Wall.
Rather shakily they processed. Rather shakily, I, after I dismounted from the Harley, took a breath. Rather shakily, I took in my surroundings. I broke into a run, found a remote tree...I cried and deposited my breakfast, my dinner from the evening before, and I believe that I was there for so long, I deposited the first Zwieback teething cookie that I ever gummed!
I was bundled and returned via backroads to civilization. We are tremendous friends and he has saved me from myself countless times. However, when he does...we use his truck. Four wheels, seats with backs. Air conditioning. Seat belts. A rugged, cool man knows that I have to ride in a Weenie-mobile...well, at least my seat.
Face it...I was just not BORN TO BE WILD.
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