| We were all feeling our oats that morning. Forty
of us had crowded into the airport restaurant waiting for the plane to arrive so we could
welcome back Gary, our CD. He'd just gotten the doctor's final okay to ride again after bypass
surgery, Gary wanted us to have his bike at the airport. He was tired of four wheels,
time to ride again! As luck would have it Gary’s plane was
delayed while some mysterious part was being replaced. We kept the waitresses
hopping with the usual hearty appetites and forgotten diets that occur when our group gets
together.
Terry Jenks was the first to notice the gentleman in the dark suit as
he sat at a table in the corner watching us. The gentleman hadn’t given the usual
dour looks that we received from the other patrons when the laughter had risen an octave
or two, he seemed to smile and observe all that was going on. He wasn’t a large
man but he had a presence that made you to think he was. His dark tan came from
the outdoors, not from some tanning salon, and his attitude and posture indicated he was
very comfortable with himself. The thing that Terry brought to our attention was the
bright orange baseball cap sitting on the gentleman’s table. Every once in a while he
would look out the window and run his finger absentmindedly over the cap. One time as he
was doing this Terry caught his eye and motioned for him to come and join us. Much to our
surprise, he rose from his table, holding the cap and his coffee cup, and came over and
sat down with us.
He introduced himself as Alfred "Al please" Barret. As he
shook hands it was obvious from his grip and the calluses on his hands that he was used to
labor. Al confirmed this by telling us he was a diesel mechanic. He'd wanted to come
over and talk to us because he had seen our bikes in the parking lot and wanted to find
out about them as he and his son had often rode together on off-road bikes but never
on big touring bikes. By now the chairs and tables had been formed in a large circle,
the food had been delivered, consumed and given our official seal of approval. With coffee
cups in hand we started to sing the praises of our bikes and tell some of our adventures. Talk ranged from past rides to future events and some of our great
goofs and near misses as well as the usual good-humored ribbing that occurs at every
gathering. Al joined in with the rest of us telling jokes and sharing some of his
experiences with his customers. His wife had passed away when his son was quite
young and he had been a single parent for many years. It was their mutual love of
motorcycles that had gotten them through a lot of rough spots over the years. It had
always been his dream for him and his son to ride to Alaska, just the two of them, with no
deadlines or hurry and nothing but road ahead. Many of us quietly nodded our heads because
we'd dreamed the same dream and envied the few that had actually accomplished
it.
Terry’s wife Blair asked where his son was now. Al said that his son was in the
Army
and had been overseas in one of the hot spots and he and one of his friends were due in on
the same flight as Gary’s. Al also explained that was the reason for the bright
orange cap. His son had sent it to him so that they could be sure and spot him as soon as
they got off the plane. This started another round of conversations about the various
services. There were a few Vietnam veterans in our group, and some veterans from Desert
Storm and even old Mac, our bomber pilot from World War II. It was during one of
Mac’s stories that the announcement finally came, the
plane was due to arrive in a few minutes. We hurriedly gathered our jackets and caps and
headed for the gate for Gary's big welcome. We turned to say goodbye to Al but he
said he'd walk with us to the gate.
Gary’s reception was everything we planned, lots of hugs and
laughter. Some one had even talked an attendant out of a wheelchair and put a sign on it
that said Gary’s New Ride. We hardly noticed the young man in uniform who greeted Al,
who by now had donned the bright orange cap. I remember thinking that there should be two
soldiers but the thought was lost as Gary’s welcome continued. We
walked down
to the baggage area to help with Gary's luggage and were waiting for the baggage to arrive
when Mac, in a voice that wasn’t much more than a whisper said, "Oh my God! Now
I know!" Everyone looked at Mac afraid something was wrong with him. The look on his
face did nothing to relieve our fears. He motioned for us to
follow him as he headed back upstairs. Everyone just looked at each other and followed
Mac, including Gary who just left his suitcase and came with us. By the time we got to the
top of the stairs Mac was already looking out the window at the plane Gary had just
arrived on. There was Al, wearing the bright orange baseball cap, and the young soldier
standing at attention as the ground crew carefully removed a flag-draped casket from the
aircraft and transferred it to the back of a waiting hearse.
We don’t know who had the idea first and it really doesn’t
matter but Mac suddenly called out to one of the terminal personnel and asked if they
could talk to the ground crew that was handling the casket. The person said they could
communicate with the ground crew by two-way radios but needed to know what the reason was.
As Mac explained what he wanted to do, we explained to Gary about Al’s son and the
baseball cap. We watched as the attendant and the ground crew chief conversed and saw the
puzzled look on Al, the soldier and the hearse driver's faces as they were asked to wait
while some arrangements were being made. It was only a few minutes later that
those
puzzled looks turned to smiles as they watched twenty big Wings with American flags flying
pull out in escort formation, half in front of the hearse and half in back as Al and his
son went on their last ride together. The driver gave us directions to the funeral home by
CB and we were quite a sight as we went through town. As we pulled into the funeral home
and stopped, Al got out and shook hands with everyone telling us how much what we had done
meant to him. We could tell that he had been crying but at least he knew he wasn’t
alone.
About 3 months later at one of our evening meetings,
we were all sitting there talking and getting ready to order, when we saw an unfamiliar
Wing pull in and park alongside our bikes. We recognized Al as he pulled off his helmet.
Before he could get to the restaurant door about half of us jumped up to welcome him and
escorted him to our meeting room. After he joined us he explained that he wanted to ride
with the group that had the heart to do for a stranger what we had done for him and his
son. With that, he pulled out that bright orange ball cap, adjusted it carefully on his
head and said "Waiter, I believe my friends are hungry." We knew then that Al
would never be alone again.
|
