Last night, around 7pm, I lost one of my dearest friends and my surrogate father. Gramps, as most of us called him, was an icon in the motorcycle industry. I can remember, riding along interstate 70 in Missouri and pulling into a rest area, only to find Gramps there, sitting on a picnic table dicussing motorcycles with the other riders who had stopped for a break. He lived for riding and his motorcycle was his most prized possession. A lover of jelly donuts and milk shakes, Gramps could also tell you where you needed to be to get a gunderburger, or the biggest pork sandwhich, or that the Tool Shed was a restaurant and not someplace to park your lawn mower. His "little bit farther" on a map equated to 150+ miles.
I can hear him telling me, "don't mourn my death, celebrate my life becasue I had a good, long one". And he did. His lovely wife Marilyn and his children, Rick, Renee, and Ron were his greatest accomplishments according to him and my heart goes out to them as well.
I can hear him telling me, "don't mourn my death, celebrate my life becasue I had a good, long one". And he did. His lovely wife Marilyn and his children, Rick, Renee, and Ron were his greatest accomplishments according to him and my heart goes out to them as well.
I am going to miss Gramps greatly and I am still adjusting to a life knowing that he is no longer in it, but I can hear him saying, "don't waste your time worrying about me gal, you should be out riding! Trust me, it will make you feel better".
