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A number of years ago, a local Harley motorcycle dealership started a
bike run to get money for Camp Good Days And Special Times. This camp was
originally for children with terminal illnesses, to give them a good fun
summer. The camp has since expanded, helping more people with more
hardships in their lives. The camp was started by a couple who lost a
young daughter to cancer, her name was Teddy. This run is supported by a local radio station and it's morning dj's, of which the leader rides a harley. With his popularity in the area, the annual ride became a huge success, with all types of bikes and bikers taking part. If I remember correctly, the 3rd year it ran, there were about 1800 bikes (not bikers, BIKES!) and we rode in one LARGE pack, escorted by police in front and in back. The following Monday after this run, the DJ received a letter from a biker that rode in the run. He read it over the radio, and it was such a well written, touching letter, people started calling in asking to get a copy of it faxed to them. After about the fifth request, he said that was all, he couldn't keep faxing it. So I got the number of the last one that got the letter and faxed him to fax me a copy... (ya gotta love technology) Anyways, I tried to locate the original writer, and I seemed to have gotten a whole of his brother, who gave me his number, I left a couple of voice messages for him to call me, that I wanted to send the letter to the local paper's editorial section. But he never returned my call. I can only assume he didn't what it published with his name. I hope he wouldn't me putting it here. I won't include his name. You should know, that the day of this run, this year, was Teddy's birthday. She would have been about 24 or 26 that year. And as you read this, remember, this is a pack of 1800 motorcycles, going through a small city of about 14,000 population. ----------------------------------------------------------- |
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I just wanted to write and congratulate you and all those involved in last
Sunday's Ridin' For A Reason, and to tell you of the wonderful experience I had
while participating. I was riding about two thirds of the way back in the line and on the bike next to me was a very special passenger. It was a youngster, about nine or ten years old. To be honest, between the helmet and shades I can't be sure if it was a little boy or girl, but what was so special was the small Teddy bear this kid would hold up whenever we passed a group of spectators. Just the sight of this tiny person perched on a Harley waving a Teddy bear was enough to melt the hearts of everyone who saw it, but to those of us who understood its meaning it was especially moving, and I must admit I was thankful for my sunglasses, because they hid the mist in my eyes. After all, bikers are supposed to be tough and I felt more than a little embarrassed, getting all choked up at the sight of a kid with a stuffed toy. But then, as we rolled into Canandaigua, my mood changed. Something really fantastic happened. Eight miles of chrome, steel, sweat stained leather, and the thunder of nearly two-thousand motorcycles rumbled down the main street of a small town in rural America....... and the townsfolk cheered! Grandmothers waved, parents held up small children for a better view, a policeman smiled, and at that moment the true meaning of what was happening hit me. A group of people whose image has long been one of independence, individuality, and being able to take care of oneself were banded together in solidarity to help those too small to help themselves. It was a great feeling. Later I drove home in the rain. Turning into the driveway I saw that the grass needed mowing again. I turned on the news and was informed of yet another act of senseless violence in our city, and the threat of renewed war in the Middle East. But this day all the bad news was a little easier to take, because even though the media ignored us, the good guys had won one. That night, I sat on my porch drinking the weekend's last beer, watching the lightning and listening to the thunder, and I was reminded of the flash of chrome and the roar of pipes. You know, maybe..., just maybe, somebody up there was saluting us. And then I remembered the sight of a little kid on the back of a Harley holding up a Teddy bear... |