Peter's Reflections of Rolling Thunder XX
First of all, my apologies for the delay in finalizing this and for its length! I think I needed this past week to internalize our ride such that remembering certain stories became a little more (emotionally) manageable. The Dead End Kids Motorcycle Club never ceases to amaze me: such a diverse group that can spend 72 hours (no really, 3 days x 24 hours per day… = 72!!!) and we don’t want to kill each other. We are a truly patient, understanding, and accepting group, and this makes us special. We must never lose that.
For those among us who served our country, whether you were with us in person, or in spirit, you were with us. This weekend was 100% about you, the commitment you made to our country and your love of the Red, White, and Blue. For that we thank you. Our ride and the fun we had, was merely a celebration of your heroism.
Saturday morning, the parking lot of Dragon Exhaust was filled with black, chrome, red, white, and blue. There was no doubt that we were about to embark on a patriotic ride; I for one could not have been more excited, and the American flag do-rag from my brother-in-law was tied securely to my handlebars. As we rode south to Cape May, countless vehicles pulled up along side us and gave us the thumbs up, or little kids waved or twisted their wrists to hear us rev our V-twins and flat-sixes. Whether they knew of our destination or they envied our “coolness” as bikers (read “motorcycle enthusiasts!!) their acknowledgement of our presence confirmed for me the need for us to represent the Dead End Kids Motorcycle Club in this ride to raise appreciation for both our veterans as well as our active duty heroes.
As expected, we had our dose of fun, be it in the atrium of the hotel during “open bar” or in Alexandria itself. However, what truly distinguished this ride from any other “weekend trip” we might have taken was the five hours we spent in the parking lot of the Pentagon, and the people we met. You see, there, we were on hallowed ground. Not only were we among some of our country’s heroes who had come from all over the country on their motorcycles to participate in the ride, but we were at the Pentagon. Home to the US Department of Defense, even the worst attack on our country this century could not destroy what was started sixty years (to the day) earlier. Badly bruised almost six years ago, today, this awesome structure stands strong. And yes, despite the opinion of a certain lady from Alabama, this is the same Pentagon “with the plane in it”… they just have gotten around to removing it!
Walking among those in the parking lot, I met many very interesting people. I’ll introduce you to some of the ones that made an impression on me. Corbitt and Jerissa are both teachers – perhaps in their late twenties. These two are just the kind of people you want teaching our kids. Sincere, articulate, caring, and they ride an ’03 Heritage Softail Classic in silver and black!
Cha is a Republic of Korea Marine (ROK Marine). During the Vietnam War, Cha fought along side the American Marines and as ROK Marines did during the war, he provided US marines with field intelligence. A little later I was speaking with a young marine in uniform (and when I say young, I mean pimples and peach fuzz!) and it dawned on me he needed to meet Cha. We walked over to Cha’s customized black ‘03 Road King and when the young Marine realized he was in the presence of a ROK Marine, his demeanor completely changed.
I stepped back to watch this inter-generational exchange; and it was a lesson of respect and understanding. While the young Marine didn’t exactly shoot to attention, he made sure he stood up straight; he understood the hero in whose presence he stood. His speech was refined and articulate as he asked Cha about his service and training (boot camp without boots!) When one of his Marine buddies, out of uniform, walked by, he stopped him to also meet Cha. Never mind his lack of uniform, Cha addressed these two boys (and they are boys!) as “Marine”, and to them, Cha was only, “Sir”. I don’t think I will ever truly understand how special it was to the young Marines to have met Cha. And perhaps vice-versa.
A 40-something couple stood by their motorcycle with laminated pictures of a very handsome young man around their necks. I asked them whether this soldier was their inspiration to participate in Rolling Thunder. Indeed it was, you see, the wife’s brother is one of our heroes from the war in Iraq. It was their intention to participate in the ride in his honor. As of a few weeks ago, it became, in his memory.
I’m sure you all saw the beautiful Softail Deluxe parked just in front of us. Light blue and white with matching helmets. That older couple was riding in memory of the husband’s best friend. Childhood friends, went to school together, and enlisted together, and served in Korea together. Unfortunately, they didn’t come home together. In fact, they didn’t even really fight together. The third day they were “over there”, he was killed. I was struck that this man, otherwise well groomed, and well spoken, on an obviously expensive motorcycle was wearing such a ratty and frayed old shirt from decades past. It turns out, it was his best friend’s favorite “civilian” shirt from “Sears Roebuck and Company”. He claimed it, and wore it for years in his friend’s memory. Now, because of its condition, it is worn but once or twice a year on special occasions, and then his wife carefully hand washes it and puts it away.
The ride through the Capital of our great country was a moving event. The streets were closed and sidewalks filled with people waving at us, trying to slap our hands, or trying to get us to rev our engines. What struck me were the signs that read “Thank You Rolling Thunder!” or “Thank You Bikers!” Are you kidding???
When we completed the run, we parked the bikes and walked through Thunder Alley where Mario purchased a vest, and Dr John and LA Lady a t-bag. I had a couple of patches sewn on my vest, and then I met Alex.
Alex is another one of our heroes from Iraq. He was there, with his wife and three year old daughter. The whole family was wearing Harley t-shirts and blue jeans, and Alex was wearing a “biker” vest completely covered with patches and pins, some paying tribute to the time he spent in active combat, the brothers he lost, and the great country he serves. It was so apparent to me, that Alex, a good looking 20-something year old man, is a Marine to his country, a father to his daughter, and a husband to his wife. “His girls” define him, and this event gave him the opportunity to celebrate his patriotism and bring attention to his brothers still “over there”. Alex is home because he is one of our combat wounded. This great Marine recently lost one of his legs above the knee. He was holding his daughter on his lap, and his wife was pushing his wheelchair. The smiles on their faces told the whole story: Daddy was home and that was all that mattered.
I was struck Sunday, that everyone with whom I spoke, considered it an honor to serve their country. To them, we are forever indebted. Thank you.
Sunday evening when we returned to the hotel, I could not find my parking pass. At the reception desk to get another, I stood on line behind a woman wearing a red jacket from the Harley Davidson dealership in Carson City, Nevada. She was there to inform the staff behind the desk that one of the lobby doors was not functioning properly. As she started away, she turned back and said, “As an English teacher, I must tell you there is an error on the sign in the drive way: the sign reads, ‘…longer then 10 minutes, and it should read, … longer than 10 minutes.’ ” She paused and waited for a reaction. “With an ‘a’ not an ‘e’,” she continued. Clearly over the clerk’s head, the red-jacketed woman walked away.
Shortly thereafter, the Dead End Kids were gathered in the atrium, this same white-haired woman was sitting to my right at the next table. I leaned over and asked whether she thought her grammar lesson was lost on the hotel employee. After a good chuckle, “Bea” proceeded to tell us (as JoAnne described in greater detail in her piece) that she was in town because her son had just retired from the Navy and she wanted to participate in Rolling Thunder with him. What she then told us was that this was her first motorcycle ride! She had the t-shirt, jacket, jeans, everything a biker needs! Including a tattoo! Yup. Bea, now 72 had a tattoo put above her ankle three years ago. Of what you ask? Well, a “bee” of course! Bea, you are one cool babe. And thank you for the lesson on how to pronounce Nevada!
Though so clearly proud of her son’s service, what Bea did not tell us was that her son was not just any Navy retiree. When she brought him over, some time later, we learned that Kirk was the Commander of the USS Cole, “the day of”. This great man, in both presence and stature, is soft-spoken and unassuming. When those among us reacted to hearing of his post, he spoke only of the heroism of his crew, and that they are the ones responsible for saving the ship. It is disturbing to me that Kirk, Bea, and their loved ones had to endure what we subsequently read through Scott’s research. To me this English teacher and mom, as well as her son the Navy Commander, are two more heroes to add to my collection from the trip.
Commander, we are proud to have met you and are grateful to you, your leadership, and your crew for your committed service to our country. Thank you.
For those looking through some of the pictures from Sunday night and Monday, you might notice a slight, long haired man. Minnesota Barry made the trip on his Ultra and joined us for drinks and dinner. He was there to see us off Monday morning, and was a lot of fun to know. I hope he’ll make the trip to Jersey and go for a ride with us one weekend. For him, there is a hero in our club, and her name is Elizabeth. She saved the cigar for his long trip home. ‘nuf said!
Lest we need a reminder of how great our country is, just think about this: Approximately 350,000 motorcycles from around the country gathered in our Capital to support those who chose to defend our country. And this does not take into consideration those who took time from their backyard barbeques to stand on the sidelines in support. Nor does it include those who were there in spirit. I am proud to be part of a club that participates in events like Rolling Thunder, and to have been able to experience this event with all of you. We are so much richer for having met the people we did this weekend. These folks represent the pillars of our country, and highlight what is truly important.
God Bless our heroes and God Bless America.
For those among us who served our country, whether you were with us in person, or in spirit, you were with us. This weekend was 100% about you, the commitment you made to our country and your love of the Red, White, and Blue. For that we thank you. Our ride and the fun we had, was merely a celebration of your heroism.
Saturday morning, the parking lot of Dragon Exhaust was filled with black, chrome, red, white, and blue. There was no doubt that we were about to embark on a patriotic ride; I for one could not have been more excited, and the American flag do-rag from my brother-in-law was tied securely to my handlebars. As we rode south to Cape May, countless vehicles pulled up along side us and gave us the thumbs up, or little kids waved or twisted their wrists to hear us rev our V-twins and flat-sixes. Whether they knew of our destination or they envied our “coolness” as bikers (read “motorcycle enthusiasts!!) their acknowledgement of our presence confirmed for me the need for us to represent the Dead End Kids Motorcycle Club in this ride to raise appreciation for both our veterans as well as our active duty heroes.
As expected, we had our dose of fun, be it in the atrium of the hotel during “open bar” or in Alexandria itself. However, what truly distinguished this ride from any other “weekend trip” we might have taken was the five hours we spent in the parking lot of the Pentagon, and the people we met. You see, there, we were on hallowed ground. Not only were we among some of our country’s heroes who had come from all over the country on their motorcycles to participate in the ride, but we were at the Pentagon. Home to the US Department of Defense, even the worst attack on our country this century could not destroy what was started sixty years (to the day) earlier. Badly bruised almost six years ago, today, this awesome structure stands strong. And yes, despite the opinion of a certain lady from Alabama, this is the same Pentagon “with the plane in it”… they just have gotten around to removing it!
Walking among those in the parking lot, I met many very interesting people. I’ll introduce you to some of the ones that made an impression on me. Corbitt and Jerissa are both teachers – perhaps in their late twenties. These two are just the kind of people you want teaching our kids. Sincere, articulate, caring, and they ride an ’03 Heritage Softail Classic in silver and black!
Cha is a Republic of Korea Marine (ROK Marine). During the Vietnam War, Cha fought along side the American Marines and as ROK Marines did during the war, he provided US marines with field intelligence. A little later I was speaking with a young marine in uniform (and when I say young, I mean pimples and peach fuzz!) and it dawned on me he needed to meet Cha. We walked over to Cha’s customized black ‘03 Road King and when the young Marine realized he was in the presence of a ROK Marine, his demeanor completely changed.
I stepped back to watch this inter-generational exchange; and it was a lesson of respect and understanding. While the young Marine didn’t exactly shoot to attention, he made sure he stood up straight; he understood the hero in whose presence he stood. His speech was refined and articulate as he asked Cha about his service and training (boot camp without boots!) When one of his Marine buddies, out of uniform, walked by, he stopped him to also meet Cha. Never mind his lack of uniform, Cha addressed these two boys (and they are boys!) as “Marine”, and to them, Cha was only, “Sir”. I don’t think I will ever truly understand how special it was to the young Marines to have met Cha. And perhaps vice-versa.
A 40-something couple stood by their motorcycle with laminated pictures of a very handsome young man around their necks. I asked them whether this soldier was their inspiration to participate in Rolling Thunder. Indeed it was, you see, the wife’s brother is one of our heroes from the war in Iraq. It was their intention to participate in the ride in his honor. As of a few weeks ago, it became, in his memory.
I’m sure you all saw the beautiful Softail Deluxe parked just in front of us. Light blue and white with matching helmets. That older couple was riding in memory of the husband’s best friend. Childhood friends, went to school together, and enlisted together, and served in Korea together. Unfortunately, they didn’t come home together. In fact, they didn’t even really fight together. The third day they were “over there”, he was killed. I was struck that this man, otherwise well groomed, and well spoken, on an obviously expensive motorcycle was wearing such a ratty and frayed old shirt from decades past. It turns out, it was his best friend’s favorite “civilian” shirt from “Sears Roebuck and Company”. He claimed it, and wore it for years in his friend’s memory. Now, because of its condition, it is worn but once or twice a year on special occasions, and then his wife carefully hand washes it and puts it away.
The ride through the Capital of our great country was a moving event. The streets were closed and sidewalks filled with people waving at us, trying to slap our hands, or trying to get us to rev our engines. What struck me were the signs that read “Thank You Rolling Thunder!” or “Thank You Bikers!” Are you kidding???
When we completed the run, we parked the bikes and walked through Thunder Alley where Mario purchased a vest, and Dr John and LA Lady a t-bag. I had a couple of patches sewn on my vest, and then I met Alex.
Alex is another one of our heroes from Iraq. He was there, with his wife and three year old daughter. The whole family was wearing Harley t-shirts and blue jeans, and Alex was wearing a “biker” vest completely covered with patches and pins, some paying tribute to the time he spent in active combat, the brothers he lost, and the great country he serves. It was so apparent to me, that Alex, a good looking 20-something year old man, is a Marine to his country, a father to his daughter, and a husband to his wife. “His girls” define him, and this event gave him the opportunity to celebrate his patriotism and bring attention to his brothers still “over there”. Alex is home because he is one of our combat wounded. This great Marine recently lost one of his legs above the knee. He was holding his daughter on his lap, and his wife was pushing his wheelchair. The smiles on their faces told the whole story: Daddy was home and that was all that mattered.
I was struck Sunday, that everyone with whom I spoke, considered it an honor to serve their country. To them, we are forever indebted. Thank you.
Sunday evening when we returned to the hotel, I could not find my parking pass. At the reception desk to get another, I stood on line behind a woman wearing a red jacket from the Harley Davidson dealership in Carson City, Nevada. She was there to inform the staff behind the desk that one of the lobby doors was not functioning properly. As she started away, she turned back and said, “As an English teacher, I must tell you there is an error on the sign in the drive way: the sign reads, ‘…longer then 10 minutes, and it should read, … longer than 10 minutes.’ ” She paused and waited for a reaction. “With an ‘a’ not an ‘e’,” she continued. Clearly over the clerk’s head, the red-jacketed woman walked away.
Shortly thereafter, the Dead End Kids were gathered in the atrium, this same white-haired woman was sitting to my right at the next table. I leaned over and asked whether she thought her grammar lesson was lost on the hotel employee. After a good chuckle, “Bea” proceeded to tell us (as JoAnne described in greater detail in her piece) that she was in town because her son had just retired from the Navy and she wanted to participate in Rolling Thunder with him. What she then told us was that this was her first motorcycle ride! She had the t-shirt, jacket, jeans, everything a biker needs! Including a tattoo! Yup. Bea, now 72 had a tattoo put above her ankle three years ago. Of what you ask? Well, a “bee” of course! Bea, you are one cool babe. And thank you for the lesson on how to pronounce Nevada!
Though so clearly proud of her son’s service, what Bea did not tell us was that her son was not just any Navy retiree. When she brought him over, some time later, we learned that Kirk was the Commander of the USS Cole, “the day of”. This great man, in both presence and stature, is soft-spoken and unassuming. When those among us reacted to hearing of his post, he spoke only of the heroism of his crew, and that they are the ones responsible for saving the ship. It is disturbing to me that Kirk, Bea, and their loved ones had to endure what we subsequently read through Scott’s research. To me this English teacher and mom, as well as her son the Navy Commander, are two more heroes to add to my collection from the trip.
Commander, we are proud to have met you and are grateful to you, your leadership, and your crew for your committed service to our country. Thank you.
For those looking through some of the pictures from Sunday night and Monday, you might notice a slight, long haired man. Minnesota Barry made the trip on his Ultra and joined us for drinks and dinner. He was there to see us off Monday morning, and was a lot of fun to know. I hope he’ll make the trip to Jersey and go for a ride with us one weekend. For him, there is a hero in our club, and her name is Elizabeth. She saved the cigar for his long trip home. ‘nuf said!
Lest we need a reminder of how great our country is, just think about this: Approximately 350,000 motorcycles from around the country gathered in our Capital to support those who chose to defend our country. And this does not take into consideration those who took time from their backyard barbeques to stand on the sidelines in support. Nor does it include those who were there in spirit. I am proud to be part of a club that participates in events like Rolling Thunder, and to have been able to experience this event with all of you. We are so much richer for having met the people we did this weekend. These folks represent the pillars of our country, and highlight what is truly important.
God Bless our heroes and God Bless America.
posted by Scott at 5:42 PM
