The Patriot Guard Riders is an organization
based in the United States whose members attend the funerals of members of the
U.S. military, firefighters, and police at the invitation of a decedent’s
family. In my mind it’s a way to honor them,
although it’s sad.
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| Verlie and Joe set up the flag on my bike. Joe put a flag holder on it just for this purpose. |
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| I was ready. |
The first one was for a young man
who’d gone down on his bike. He was
picking it up when a lady stopped and used her car to block and keep him
safe. Some nut job crashed into her,
killing both her and the young man. What
a waste of lives. But I was proud to be
there to help transition him from the church to the cemetery.
It was quite a ride, with the Patriot
Guard leaders, the hearse, the rest of us, the road guards with their lights
aflashing and sirens screaming, flying by to get ahead and block streets. I have a big flag on my bike that is Joe’s. He’s not using it because he’s working toward
being a road guard so he shadows a road guard as they block traffic for the
procession. Being that I have a large
flag, I get to ride forward as it’s organized by large, medium and small flags,
then trikes and other vehicles.
The second one was for an older
gentleman. This one wasn’t quite as
large a procession, but I was asked to be one of the honor bikes, riding
directly behind the hearse. We did
another flag line at the cemetery for this man, and once again, I was honored
to be a part of it.
On Friday, May 12, we went to a
high school baseball game, semi-finals.
The first baseman, CJ, is Joe and Verlie’s nephew. Yay.
They won. As they were playing in
the loser’s bracket, they would play the same team again the following evening. And we’d be there.
In the meantime I took my bike in
for a service. Turned out I had a warped
front rotor and had a couple of oil leaks … but yay, it’s covered by
warranty. The bad news was that I might
not get it back until Monday and I was intending to meet up with Stef on
Sunday. We chatted about it, and she
would go to Barstow, our meeting place. I’d be there if I could, or we’d go to Plan
B. We didn’t’ have one yet, but we would
if necessary.
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| So I was wearing nothing but a towel, brushing my teeth, and I saw some fuzz or something fluttering in the sink in the lower hole. I was leaning over the sink so I really couldn't see what it was. Then I stood up and looked. Eeeeek. It was something alive, with two little legs sticking out. Joe. Joe. Help. He came. It was a scorpion but a pretty anemic-looking one. He killed it. Now I'm much more careful when brushing my teeth. But I still wear a towel. |
I got a call that the bike was
done on Saturday, May 13. The mechanic
had worked late last night, and come in early this a.m. to finish it. In my mind, that was above and beyond, so I took
him a case of beer. He was very pleased
as I’d called to find out what kind he liked.
He stood holding that case of beer like it was gold.
Back to the baseball field, which
is the Angel’s Spring Training field. We
watched CJ’s team play again. And they
won. They would play in the final
championship game on Tuesday. I’d be
gone by then … somewhere in California or Nevada. Good luck to them. (I heard later they lost 6-4. But it sounds like it was a good game.)
We got back to the house and I
checked what I had on the bike and what I needed to take. Tomorrow I take off to do a motorcycle riding trip.
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