Just thought I'd share a few moments from the day.
We woke up to a beautiful morning. The evenings rain storms had clensed the air leaving me a sense of a renewal or re-birth. The grass sparkled with rain drops still hanging off the blades.
My first look outside the window was a rather peaceful and private moment. 25 feet away, in Steves front yard, was Glenns "Warrior" trailer. I stared at it for a few minutes thinking how much that represented him, always full of potential, full of life. I thought forward for a moment wondering if, as the hopeful new owner of this trailer, that I will represent the potential and fullness that was once carried in it.
We started off in the ride from Snakeyezzz's house with Steve, me, Darrell (DeWarrior), Ed (Gap Rider from the R1 forum) and Herb, (Steve's Abate brother) in the missing man formation to meet the second group of riders at Dave's place. We arrived there and picked up another small group of riders; Bill (KOAH), Terry (Hogeater), Chris (Jon Cocktoastel), and Dave (crazytex from the R1 forum), we continued to the Toyota dealership where Glenn worked at. When we pulled in there were employeeys lined up on each side of the service road entrance watching us proceed through. There were more riders waiting on us, co-workers of Glenns who filed into the formation. For those who didn't have bikes they filed in behind us in Trucks and cars. We sounded off, "loud and proud" as we went through the parking lot back to the street where we rode in peace for approximately another 20 minutes in formation to the cemetary.
I was second in the left lane, with Snakeyezzz up front leading the pack. Attached to Steves right side was Glenn's Shoei helmet with the chatter box attached. We all had our right pegs or floor boards lowered in remembrance.
Following Steve to get the first group all I could do was watch the helmet and think. It seemed fitting that a chatterbox was still attached. If you knew Glenn, odds were he was talking a mile a minute if you had the receiving end. The sad irony in this, is even if he was still with us no one would hear him anyway as noone carried a receiver so there was silence for each one of us. I don't remember hearing the wind or the bikes motors until we hit the dealer and then finally, the cemetary's entrance. The toughest moment and the one that broke the tears free was when we entered the dealership. It was at that moment the biggest wave of grief and sorrow overwhelmed me. Seeing all those employees out there really threw me.
We arrived at the cemetary, and as we entered a few guys revved up there motors. As we took the winding drive down the hill I suddenly realized that there were other ceremonies going on and out of respect I thought we should quietly proceed. Thankfully the other riders saw this, as I was repeating in my helmet; "please ride Quitely, please ride Quietly".
We parked at the entrance to the chapel still in formation. I was in tears trying my hardest to regain some composure, but to no avail. I took a few moments staring at the missing spot and Glenns helmet as I unbuttoned my vest and unzipped the jacket underneath. Glenns sister, Wendy came up to me and we hugged for a long moment. She said her mother "lil Momma" would like to meet me and she escorted me to the family where I met all, but his father and 2 sisters, for the first time. His 2 beautiful young daughters, Briana and Leah were standing there and you could see the resemblance. (Obviously they got some of Glenns better jeans, which weren't too apparant on him!)They looked stunned by our presence.
I took a few moments to set up the pictures Snapz sent us for the memorial service from the Deals Gap trip he just went on. I grabbed my wife Melissa's hand and quietly walked into the chapel and sat down.
The service was simple and nice. The Priest gave the family and friends the floor after a little while. "Big Daddy", Glenns father took the first moment. He was deeply moved by our presence and expressed his most sincere gratitude for our help and companionship. He had some funny anecdotes to share about Glenns life as a kid and growing into the man he became. When he left the stage I had the feeling he was proud.
Serveral others presented moments to share, from Crazytex, to his Abate chaplain, his Bosses, me, his daughter Briana, his real brother Dennis, and then Snakeyezzz. Both his daughter Briana, and brother Dennis really made you feel like Glenn was standing in front of you. Briana's time was short and light but full of Glenns typical expressions; vocal and physical. Glens brother got up and spoke for a long while. The voice although a little raspier than Glenns, was nothing but Glenn. You could close your eyes and imagine he was standing there speaking to you. You didn't want to do that though as his brother's expressions were spot on. Up until the moment he spoke, I thought I'd never hear my friend again. That, to me, was a great gift.
We filed out where Glenns father greeted each one of us with a handshake. Having shared the previous day with him I felt he deserved the "man hug".
We said our goodbyes to his sisters Wendy and Amy, and I felt like they were great friends already. They offered up a place to stay if we were ever to travel through their home states of Alaska, and Colorado.
Up to this day, I hadn't ridden a motorcycle on the street since October 06 when I got my big speeding ticket. 2 months ago to this date was the time it took for my severed right shoulder socket to mend enough to endure this ride. The pain was nothing compared to the pain of losing my friend.
We mounted the bikes, in closed formation, with the right pegs still lowered and left the cemetary. When we got to our first intersection I looked over to Snakeyezzz and asked how long until we hit lunch, he said "20 minutes" and I laughed. (The previous day, Glenns father had a bet with me based on Steve's estimated time for a trip which was 20 minutes. Glenns father in a Louisianna drawl said "I won't have to worry 'bout payin' up, 'cause you aint never gonna make it in that time". It took us 24 minutes.)
About 40 miles later we finally pulled into the Outback Crab Shack (sorry Shar-war) and I was wearing a big smile on my face. I'd found some peace finally.
Elvis lives...
