The healing power of the ride

imported post

I've mentioned in previous threads that my uncle was more of a big brother to me, there's only 6 years between us. Well, as life has it when he got married and had kids we kind of drifted apart and didn't see much of each other. And with the responsibilities of life he put motorcycling behind him. Now I have to explain here that he was a fantastic rider. He took a Honda SL 350 and took state championship twice in motocross and once in flat track. When he bought his 125 Elsinore he practically took over the track. He loved riding, he shared it with me and taught me all he could and then some.



Well, time took it's toll on him, physically as well as emotionally and mentally. To be honest we were all prepared for the call that he had ended his life. This summer he shocked us all with the announcement that he was getting a motorcycle again. He wanted something around a 500 to 550 size and since mother Honda had little to offer there he settled on a Kawasaki 500 Vulcan. Now we've been on a few little rides together but nothing really significant. We had planned a trip to West Virginia together, but due to finances I had to drop out, but he went on his own. It wore him out, but it was a dream he had never fulfilled, and it brought a sparkle back into his eye.



Well yesterday, Wendy and I took a ride with him and Wendy was calling the shots as navigator. She took us down into her old stomping grounds south east of here. We were going through back country roads through horse farms, up and down winding hills that challenged both bikes and us. There was one hill (one very BIG hill) we came down that as it wound its way around was a continuous slalom of deep left and right curves, I scraped more than once. We left at 10 am and never got home till after 6pm, the high was 50 degrees yesterday. It was a cool ride the whole day and I did have some concern as to how he was handling it, it was a wasted worry, never did I see him without a grin on face, the grin I remember from my youth.



At our last "rest stop" we talked for awhile and I not only saw and heard the new life in him, he spoke of it as well. He talked about the depression he had been battling for so many years, it scared me as to how much worse it was than I thought. Then he talked about how being on the road again he hadn't felt any depression all year. Even if he can't ride on a given day, it doesn't matter, there's always the next day. We spent the day riding, laughing, reminiscing and being the kids of our youth again.



This morning I spoke with my aunt for a bit and she was telling me of the renewed energy and life in him, "he seems so much happier everyday" as she put it. She admitted that she encouraged him to give up riding while they were raising the kids and now regretted it. She isn't against motorcycles, but isn't into riding them herself, and admitted she didn't realize what a part of him it was. She joked that their two boys had some concerns about dad riding again, but she has since put down the law that if he wants to ride, then ride he will.



Yeah this was a long post, maybe more for me than anything else, and I have no doubt I'm preaching to the choir. Everyone of you understands that feeling.



So here's to the road, the peace, happiness and tranquility it gives us and our lives. And when the day comes for the undertaker to fitus forour final cage, may he cry out in frustration to try and remove the smile from ourface's and the dead bugs inour teeth.