The gentle pitter pat of large V-twins can be heard in the distance. Mixed in with the thumping is a different tone, it sounds like Formula One cars. Gradually the sounds increase, their echos giving them a deeper resonance. They finally come around a corner, there they are, the wildest assortment of misfits you've ever seen. But these guys aren't a bikie gang, they are all broken men who have found each other. They are on this ride to give them a retreat. They ride to be in friendship.
One of them has a special reason to be on this ride.
I am he.
The ride leaves at the end of June. It's only for two days. Only 600ish miles. Probably the most emotional miles this man will ever have. It's the innagural ride of me on my dad's bike.
He loved going on huge weekend adventures, I never went with him. We talked about riding together this summer, he didn't get better. He would regale me with stories of the rides, I simply never got into it.
I don't think I ever rode beside my dad. I'm tearing up just thinking about that. How is it that the only passion he had for my entire life I never participated in? What kind of screwed up son was I? Yet another thing I can't change, but will always wish I could. Sorry dad.
Ouch
So the next few blogs will be about this ride. It will not be possible to overstate the importance of this ride. It means that much.
I love the bike dad. Wish you were riding it instead of me. Wish we could find Hell's Canyon together. I'll take pictures and think about you.
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