There's only two rules
for joining the 6th Street Geriatric Motorcycle Crew. First off, both your
hips have to be real. Second, you have to
love going to church. Yep, that's right. Speaking of church,
about a month before my neighbor
Walter died, a few of us hog-riding old-timers
were sitting around trying to
impress each other. I said, "Walter, do you know I
haven't missed a day of church in 30 years?" Of course he looked
up with a wry smile and said, "Jerry, that's a
pretty good track record. Now, what were you doing
with all that time when you weren't in church? I hope you were being a
true Christian then, too." Of course, Walter's
gone now, which means of the original
motorcycle crew, it's just me and my neighbor Mitchell left. Without Walter, getting ready
for our annual road trip just wasn't the same. We moped around
for a bit, trying to figure out how to
ride like banshees, all the while honoring
Walter's memory. But after a while
an idea came to us: if Walter were here riding
with us, what kind of road trip would he want to do? Well, soon enough we
started to figure it out.
You know, we've been
doing this trip every year for the last two decades. And I'd say this year we
traveled fewer miles than we ever have before,
but one thing I learned this time is
that sometimes it's the quality of the miles, not
the quantity, that counts. You know, we miss old
Walter, and I still go to church every single week. But when I'm not
at church, I try to remember what he said
that night: "What were you doing with all that time
when you weren't in church?"