Been spendin a couple days creating my own "angst" (not really sure what that means, but it sure sounds good. It's my word for the day. So I figured I'd use it in a sentence. So there, thats done.) lately. You know wondering why you do the things ya do and why ya keep doing it? And found my self thinking (yepper, a dangerous place to waste a mind) about our mother chapter bout 150 miles from here. Thinkin bout that 100 acres +/- in a place that time only knew when the river flooded and even then it was quickly forgotten. Unlikely place to find a bunch of whacked out freedom fighters that can play as free as they can fight. All accepted. Like Mouse. Afflicted with "Dwarfism". But never let it get in her way. Never let much get in her way actually. Try layin a hand on her ol man, tattoo Larry and see what happens (6' + and she keeps him in line). More conjones (sp) than most men. Which is how she finally ended up with a trike that every one said she couldn't ride. Well a pic is worth how much? Not long ago a drunk ( I can say drunk, know one when I see one), unlicensed, in a stolen car, running from the cops took out her trike, damaged her ol mans bike, his truck and damn near took off their front porch. Insurance company of course says under the circumstances, "sorry". Reckon they don't know Mouse very well.
I heard it said once you could tell the measure of a man by how many come to his funeral. I prefer to think of it as "who" comes to your funeral. See way long time ago Panhandle chapter had this monument out in the woods by Mule Head pond were they would scatter the ashes of fallen brothers and sisters. Well the property gets sold a fence goes up and the new owners are like, stay out and forget that hunk of rock. Well it's amazing what can get done on a dark night in the Fl panhandle. Like a fence gets cut, one truck is loaded with a monument and another with all the dirt around, so no one is left behind (so the story goes) and lo and behold under an old oak from which a bell hangs to be rung for each new name added and below a small rise where an empty Motorcycle idles, new ashes are spread around an old monument. Tears shed, words said, and a toast that even the departed can partake in. I've seen people come from hundreds of miles to have ashes spread there. That my friends speaks to "brotherhood". So why do we do what we do and keep on keeping on?
Well of course our rights are important. And the freedom to fight for those rights is a blessing bestowed on by a few that came long before us. But then the thought also occurred to me, Maybe it's because we don't want to see the word "BROTHERHOOD," etched into that monument. That maybe the day I walk away and leave my bike running on that hill. Till it runs out of gas and rusts into the ashes of a time that once was.... Thanks Papa John........................rc
P.S. Mouse may take a bit but you will be riding again.