The Guys were up and at it early today, commenting on the world while sitting on the bench at the feedstore, that is. The aroma of freshly brewed coffee was still in the air. The wives at home were planning on watching morning TV without their husbands underfoot. The men on the bench were waiting on their first topic to present itself for discussion on the Bullsitooterie. That is when Claudia and Ed Brown rode by on their Harley.
Claudia and Ed Brown rode by on their Harley.
“Wonder where they’re headed to this morning?” Freddy asked.
“Who knows” They are always going to some event on that bike. ‘Older than dirt and they still like each other.’ My wife said to me the other day with a smirk on her face.” Added Glenn.
“Yeah, a living reminder that we could have all done better with our relationships.” Said, Vic.
Glenn asked, “Remember that Christmas when Dwight, the garbage man’s cousin, gave them a Harley t-shirt that said, ‘Ass, Grass, or Gas Bitch. Nobody Rides for Free?”
“Yeah, everyone was horrified when Dwight did that. Everyone, but the Browns that is. They loved it and Claudia had Ed put the shirt on immediately. It was the perfect present, according to them.” Said, Freddie.
“They live across the road from me.” Said, Glenn. “They have a big yard, an acre or so. He mows it with one of those zero-turn mowers. It is fast as Hell. He looks like he is one of those monkeys the clowns dress up as a cowboy and puts on top of a big dog. He is just holding on for dear life and looking neither left nor right. I couldn’t stand to watch. He’ll be flying towards a big tree and just at the last moment veers off, left or right. I keep thinking I will be witnessing Old Man Sushi being made. You can’t even detect his arms moving to turn the damn thing. He never misses though. Just look at his bike, it has never been dumped.”
#
The Browns are avid Harley riders. Every weekend, weather allowing, they were on the road. There are plenty of Harley bars and events around these parts. The fact that they were in their eighties made them unique. They were always there, weather permitting. If they were not, someone would call to check on them because their absence was noticed. They are important to the local lifestyle. A family of citizens, what bikers call non-riders, were walking through a large group of bikers at a barbeque joint parking lot. The wife noticed the old couple and she brought it up to her husband.
“Look at that couple honey”, the woman said, obviously referring to the age of that couple.
A large, tattooed woman on a Hog overheard and said, “They’re just living the good life as best they can”
What was left unsaid was the title she wanted to give the woman.
“…Dumbass”
To see them riding presented an unforgettable image. They are old and thin. Not carrying any extra weight is what accounts for their boundless energy. Claudia is a tiny and birdlike woman. Her helmet looks way too large for her. The strap barely touched her chin. It looks like you could easily spin the helmet around her head with no discomfort to her. Ed looked the same, just a little bigger. He had a hook nose and reminded one of an Egyptian mummy. What this description missing is the fact that they both had blue eyes that sparkled with humor and wit. Infectious smiles and a happy demeanor made them welcome in any group.
In the old days when they rode the bike in tandem. They were a joy to see. He had a big grin and from the front, you could see her tiny head sticking out to the side, with her grinning as well. They are a tonic for our community. It is good for people to see that aging does not have to be bad. They were a joy, except for those rare occasions when they did not have their teeth in.
They did relent to their families’ pleading that they get a sidecar for the bike. They were afraid of them falling over. Now, it is harder to see Claudia in the sidecar, just her helmet barely sticking up over the cowl. It was kind of like looking at a baby in a shopping cart at the grocery store. It took the right angle and looking down, to see the kid. You had the same reaction though. You always smiled after you caught a glimpse.
Sturgis was an annual pilgrimage for the Browns. That trip is what they planned for every year. The day they got home from South Dakota, planning for the next year’s trip would begin. For the past forty years, they had never missed a rally. In the beginning, Ed and Claudia would ride their motorcycle 1150 miles from their home to Sturgis. Fifteen years ago, they bought a motorhome and a trailer for the Harley. Going that far on the motorcycle became too hard on them. With the motor home, they took four to six weeks to make the round trip. Stopping along the way to see every tourist trap they could find.
This year was going to be different. Their grandson Derek was going to drive them there and take his motorcycle too. Derek was in his early thirties and self-employed. He was successful, but his life has recently fallen apart. His wife left him and took his two children with her, His parents and grandparents wanted to know why, but he would not talk about it. He went to spend some time at his grandparents to collect himself a little. The trip to Sturgis seemed like it could be the spark he needed to get back on track. It started great for him. His grandparents were filled with enthusiasm for another week at Sturgis. Their excitement about the trip was a little bit contagious. After a week of travel, he found himself wanting to have a little fun too.
They arrived at the Broken Spoke Campground the day before the Rally was to begin. This place is about fifteen miles out of town and is huge. There was a large swimming pool, racetracks, bars, and an area where daredevils were performing all sorts of stunts on motorcycles. It was a hedonist’s delight. Beer was the universal lubricant at this event. They found a place to park the RV and unloaded the bikes. They were several places to eat and they settled on one that looked like they appreciated a good chicken fried steak. After dinner, they wanted to retire early so they could be at their best for the first day of festivities.
Derek was sound asleep when it sounded like the RV was going to self-destruct. A Harley was right next to where he was sleeping and its’ engine was being revved to earsplitting decibels. He fell out of bed and ran outside in his underwear to see what was happening. It was his grandparents on their bike just revving the shit out of their motorcycle. As soon as they saw him, they stopped and shut it off.
“It’s about time you got up,” Claudia said.
“Yes, and we are wasting daylight. The party is getting started and we want to be there.” His grandad said.
She said, “There are sausage and egg biscuits on the table. The coffee has been made and there is juice in the fridge. Get moving Boy!”
“I’m moving. It’s only 6:30 in the morning for Christ’s sake.”
They were underway at last. It was a twenty-minute ride into Sturgis and the morning was cool. Crystal clear blue skies and perfect weather for riding a bike. The two-cylinder motors were pounding out a loud beat as they kept the pavement moving beneath them. Grandpa would occasionally punctuate the morning with a loud blap blap blap, as he would “Rack the Pipes” by revving the engine. The road was filled with other bikers doing the same. Periodically racking the pipes for no apparent reason other than quick acceleration and lots of noise, then slowing down to the speed limit. A “Wheee look at me, I’m free”, moment. Normal people in biker costumes headed into Sturgis. This was just another kind of Comic-Con. A celebration of leaving ordinariness behind for a week.
There were his grandparents on their motorcycle, Grams in the sidecar. A small delicate old lady with a helmet on. A big smile on her face as the bumps in the road jostled her body. Her little head bouncing inside the brain bucket. The little old man had his hands on the handlebars with his arms outstretched. He showed extraordinarily little movement. If it wasn’t for the grin there would be no way to tell he wasn’t a manikin. This was the first time he thought of them as a man and a woman with lives that they shared. Before, they were the people that spoiled him with Birthday and Christmas presents. Slipping him money from time to time. Suddenly, he realized, in the absence of him, they did simply fine. They had a life.
They arrived in town and parked in front of the One-Eyed Jack’s Saloon. Early on the first day, the streets were quickly filling with riders from all over the U.S. and the World. Derek discovered that one could easily get lost in this crowd. Not his grandparents though. They were celebrities. They were much more than old people that came to the rally. They had been coming every year since before most of the riders were born. Local news crews stopped by to ask how long they were going to stay in Sturgis and where they were staying while here. They wanted interviews for their audiences back home.
The participants at the rally knew them. It was as if they were mascots for the lifestyle. Derek was amazed at how his grandparents were treated. The crowds parted as they walked. Nothing but smiles and adulation. He felt ill at ease around some of these folks. After all, tattoos, leather, chains, and hobnail boots do not make for a Mr. Rodgers’ vibe. His grandparents were unfazed though. These were all their friends. When the crowd realized he was their grandson, they started treating him like royalty too. This was going to be a great trip.
The second day was a madhouse. There was no being awakened by a motorcycle engine being revved up this morning. Because it never stopped from the day before. All night long the noise of engines and shouting filled the night air. Better learn to sleep with this going on. The Black Hills survived the sounds of buffalo stampedes, they can surely survive this. They took their time this morning with breakfast and chatting with their new neighbors. There was no rush. When they finally got to Sturgis, it was packed with people and bikes. The rally had begun in earnest.
When they got into town, Derek was certain they were not going to be able to find a parking place. The motorcycles were handlebar to handlebar. When they got a beam of where they parked yesterday. A couple of riders came out and stopped them. Then other riders moved their bikes and allowed them enough room to park their two bikes. They explained it was too far to walk from the other parking places. Just another example of how important his grandparents were to the lifestyle.
One of the women approached Derek and asked, “This is a delicate subject, but we were wondering if you could reach out to us if something ever happens to your grandparents.?”
He was taken aback but soon understood why. He told them, “Yes, no problem. Phone numbers or email?”
“I will write down our email addresses if it wouldn’t be too much trouble.” She said.
“No problem at all. I would be glad to help. I love them too.”
Later they were all grouped. Talking and having a grand old time. People were stopping to say hello to the Brown’s. Octogenarians on motorcycles always draw a crowd. A big crowd of Biker Chicks were gathered around them when some guys drove by and screamed, “Show us your tits.” Grams was in the middle of the women when this happened. That is when another book was added to Derek’s library of things you cannot unsee. What they saw cannot be described as sagging, more like puddling. Derek talked to a few people who promised to take care of his grandparents and get them back to the campgrounds. He felt he should let them enjoy the rally without him. He wanted to keep his memories of decorating Easter Eggs with Grams intact.
A few days later at the campground. After they had eaten Dinner, the Browns started drinking at the bar with the other bikers. Derek decided it was wise to go back to the RV and watch some DVDs. Rather than risk adding another book to that library of things you cannot unsee. Around midnight he heard a knock at the door. When he opened the door, there stood a large woman with Grams in her arms. She passed out cold. Behind them was a huge man carrying Grandpa by the back of his belt, like a suitcase. He passed out as well. He quickly let them in. The woman put Grams on her bed as tenderly as if she were her child. The man lifted Grandpa high so he wouldn’t bonk his head while climbing the steps. The man was named “Knuckles”, not because of his size. He acquired the name due to his penchant for pre-war Harley Davidson Knucklehead motorcycles.
Knuckles said, “Your Grandpa’s teeth fell out while I was carrying him. I put them in his right vest pocket.”
The woman said, “They had too much to drink, so we brought them home. Your Granddad was mooning everyone. With a geechy ass like that, I don’t know why they call it mooning. It was more like a quotation mark.”
“It was more like two bones and a whistle.” Laughed Knuckles.
What she did not tell Derek was the reason he was mooning everyone. They had been asked to leave because of Grams’ behavior. They were at the male strippers’ bar when she started getting a little too friendly with how she tried to give the strippers tips. She was rolling up her twenties into the shape of cigarettes. They liked the tips; it was where she tried to place them that caused the problem. It was impossible to dance a routine when you had to continually check behind you to make sure she was not there. The biggest problem was that she was unbelievably quick. The more they jumped, the louder the crowd became. Then more women started to emulate Gram’s behavior. The dancing soon became nothing more than a bunch of guys in G-strings jumping around with one hand on their backside. It got as loud as a South American soccer match. In his defense, Grandpa was just making a statement to defend his wife’s honor.
“I would have walked from Bayonne to see this.” One person was heard to say.
The next day was the last day of the Sturgis Motorcycle Rally. They were in town to say their goodbyes to everyone. Derek was standing close to them and watching the crowd fawning over his Grandparents. All the love they gave everyone was being returned tenfold. From time to time, someone would come up to him and give him a spiral notebook. When he looked inside, it was filled with email addresses. Very neat and done with care. No wasted spaces. That happened five more times throughout the day. He soon had six notebooks filled with addresses. “Shit, this is a lot of people.” He thought.
That night at the RV while they were organizing for the trip home. Grams noticed the notebooks.
“What are these for?” She asked.
Reluctantly he told them, “The bikers wanted someone to notify them if something happened to you two.”
They quietly thumbed through the notebooks, looking at the addresses. Derek noticed they both were fighting back tears.
“Looks like thousands of names,” said Grandpa.
“Not bad for a couple of retired schoolteachers, eh?” he added.
“Still, it is a little bit macabre,” Derek said.
“Listen, if it is the fact of death you worry about. You shouldn’t. Death is what gives life purpose. We are so blessed to have these names. ‘You can’t take it with you.’ That is what they say, but I think the number of mourners you have must mean something. These names were the purpose of your grandpa and me.”
“Well, it looks like I am going to have to start over to have something like this.” Proffered Derek.
“You’re still married. Marriage takes work and it all depends on how much a man and woman are prepared to work to keep their union intact.” She said.
Later that night when Derek came back to the RV. He said, “If it is OK with you? I would like to drive hard to get us home as soon as possible.”
“Sounds like a great idea to us. We will spend that time putting together an email list on your computer.”