| Author | Message | ||
     Jb2 |
This true story takes place in July during one of the hottest summers on record. A Honda rider is pulling into your a-typical interstate-side McDonald's and snags a parking spot along the side hallway, next to the restrooms and back door with an empty table just on the other side of the window. The perfect place to cool off, refuel, rehydrate, dehydrate and keep an eye on the bike at the same time. He was homeward bound and had left that morning just as the fog began to clear and managed to lay down a tick over two-hundred miles in less than three hours to arrive there in Williamsburg, Kentucky. He claimed the empty table with his jacket and gear, took a lap through the mens' room to clean his hands and wipe the sweat from his brow. Even at 8:00 a.m. the heat was already relentless. There was no line at the counter and he got his order quickly and proceeded to the condiment counter for coffee and necessities. With tray in hand he rounded the corner and observed several small groups of people coming and going through the cubical shaped, multi-door front entry. A hunched over elderly man tried to grab the door as it was quickly shut by the vacuum of another door opening and he nearly fell as the door yanked his hand and pulled him off balance. His missed catch left him feeling the surface for a handle and when he detected none he walked around to the other door. The rider thought to himself that it must have been an exit door, maybe that's why no one offered to hold the door for him. He sat his tray on the table and started to seat himself when he noticed the same old man at the back door feeling the surface again for a handle. The old man smiled a huge grin when the rider made eye contact with him and got up to open the door from the inside. In a clean southern accent the old man says, "Thank you very kindly sir!" The rider replies "They don't make it easy to get into these places anymore, do they?" not to patronize him but rather thinking that he will be an old man one of these days too and it'd be nice to have someone on his side then. "No they don't!" the old man replies as he repeated his huge grin and walked on. Being old ain't easy and the rider knows that for sure. He's just been to see his dying grandfather. His grandfather will be 91 soon if he makes it. The doctors had exhausted all possibilities and released him from the hospital so he could die at home. The rider had spent several hours over the past few days holding hands and talking with the eldest family patriarch, taking turns setting in the chair next to his bed with a huge group of family members who gathered there to make sure his last days were filled with good times and stories. Stories both listened to and told by all. As he stuffed his face with the first two bites of his breakfast he was thinking about the similarities of this old man and his own granddad who was still hanging on, fighting to the very end. With those thoughts the old man reappeared. "Hey! Is that your motorcycle?" With a full mouth the rider replies "Mmmm hmmm, sure is." "Man that thing is beautiful! You guys really got it made these days with the bikes the way they make 'em and the roads. We didn't have roads like you've got today." The rider is wanting to tell him about the Honda but the old man's eyes are now opened wide, his grin has doubled in size and his arms flail as he begins to tell a story. His eyes are glazed over yellow with age and enough red veins showing to stitch your name on a hankie but they cannot hide their gleam as an ear bends to hear his tale. "You know the new BMW plant over there?" pointing in a direction unfamiliar to the rider. The rider nods as his only reply because the old man starts talking again as soon as he asked the question. "They got my bike. I had a BMW. A big old single cylinder sucker. They came and picked me up and a gave me a tour of the plant. Showed me where they were keeping it. They got it on display you know? Man that thing was hard to start!" The rider again tries to find a opening to join in the conversation but chooses not to deny the old man his recreation of the starting procedure for the big thumper. The old man's frame would literally unwind from it's contorted state as he air started the old single for the Honda rider. "I started parking it on a hill and rolling down to start it. But when it was running... boy, did I have a time!" "See that mountain there?", pointing with his crooked finger out the window of the Williamsburg McDonald's to a distant peak. "That one there." The rider nods again as his mouth is full with a another helping of breakfast and keeps blowing his opportunity to get a word in edgewise. The old man goes on to tell about racing up the road to the top of the mountain and back down just for fun, painting pictures with words and animation. "We never went as fast as you guys can go today. I was behind a Harley Davidson the other day in my car, going up the mountain, and this guy was leaning the thing way over this away and then back over this away. Almost touching on every corner!" The rider again tried to speak but was cut off once more. He couldn't overlook they way the old man's crumpled body would unwind as he would do a recounting lean in one direction and sustain the proper amount of time for a decent sweeper and then smoothly transfer his lean to other side going around the next curve, holding his hands out to grasp an imaginary set of pullback handlebars. It may have looked like an old man air biking to anyone else there that day but the rider was convinced for those few seconds the old man was riding that Harley himself. The rider knew he was the real deal, a genuine forefather of the ride. Grinning and talking still he says, "I bet you can really lean that thing over, can't you?" Again the nod when the question falls during a slurp of coffee. "Mmmm hmmm." "Man, you guys are really lucky today! We never had anything like that." The Honda rider is hurriedly finishing his meal, wanting to take a seat with the old rider to tell him how much he enjoys old folks and the stories they tell and maybe a thing or two about his own ride and his dying grandpa. But just as quickly as the old man swept him up with his story he clasped his hands together and tells the rider, "Hey, I've got to get something to eat too you know." His yellow eyes are welled with tears as his frail hand squeezes the shoulder of the rider and he says, "Thank you so very much son, for listening." and darts off toward the counter quicker than he had reappeared. The rider fights back a huge lump in his throat and gulps down the last slug of coffee. He gathers himself from the moment, catching the tears before they roll down his cheek and grabs his gear. He looks through the restaurant for the old man but he was gone. Disappeared. Seemingly into thin air. The rider mounts up and slips back into the blazing heat and the 85 mph grind of I-75. He can't quit thinking about the old man, replaying the events of the last week and trying to rationalize why things happen the way they do. How did he let him slip away? Was it meant to go down like this? Torn between kicking himself for letting him get away and thanking God for opportunity to open the door for him and to hear his tale. "Thank God," he says to himself, "for old motorcycles, old riders and the tales they tell." Ride Safe and lend an ear to old folks, JB2  (Message edited by jb2 on July 26, 2005) | ||
| Whodom |
Jb2: Great tale. Makes me think of my dad who died last year. Wish I could lend an ear to him right now.... | ||
| Jerry_haughton |
nice. FB1 | ||
| Jb2 |
Even better to have been there like I was and lucky to have this forum to pass his story on to people who understand. JB2 | ||
| Bomber |
JayBee bless your heart, bud, and thanks for sharing your tale | ||
| Firemanjim |
Nice tale,Jim. Now get yer but in gear and do a BRATPAC thread --- | ||
| Jerry_haughton |
i do believe he's been  FB1 | ||
| Bluzm2 |
Very nice JB, it made my day. Thankyou! | ||
| Dino |
JB2 - Thank you. | ||
| Ceejay |
quality! Thanks for sharing the memories! |
