Mom's Memorial, 2011, part 2

The destination...
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As I said, I was set to head toward Canada, then with the weather staying cool, hmm, maybe Tuscan, Az. But then, once again I was hit with the images. The ones of SSgt. Tim Chambers. Standing at attention, for hours. Saluting almost a half million bikes, veterans, adoring associates. It was time, it IS the year.

As usual, no money for such a trip. This time there would be motels involved. Before there was only gas and of course a bit of TLC for the bike pre-trip. I have slept in the iron butt motel, last year. Quaint, but not somewhere you'd want to spend a week or so. I ended up with 70 hours overtime in a two week period. Not that much money after taxes, but lets go.

A few items of note. I was at the corner of 23rd Street and Constitution Avenue at a place called Thunder Alley. I was talking to a gentleman and mentioned that I had heard that as many as 4,000 bikes were expected to show for the 24th Annual Rolling Thunder Demonstration supporting our many POW/MIA soldiers. He laughed and said, "that is 400,000 give or take."

The next morning at five am, I got up and headed for the pre-staging area I was told I could meet some others at by 6 am. I rode in closer to 6:30 and as I rode in I was going to mention that maybe I would need to gas up before the big show and before I could say a word, this guys shouts, "two minutes!" man...

We started up and I have no idea how many there were of us, in that parking lot across from the Holiday Inn, 1,000 or so maybe.

We followed the motions through streets onto the highway and back through the streets, of those road captains. Parked alongside the roadway, waving us on. Several places there were Law Officers, standing and saluting as we rode by. Before seven am on a Sunday morning and there were people in groups here and there, waving flags and saluting and cheering as we were joined along the way by others, headed to our official staging area. When the road opened up, in we rode into the largest parking lot I had ever seen. I didn't know it at the time, but it is the parking lot for the Pentagon, the biggest building I have ever seen. From the ground, you couldn't tell what it was, just a huge, huge building.

Again, following the motions of the road captains, we streamed in. When the bike in front of you stopped, so did you and at once there were bikes moving in line next to you. If you needed gas, you had an issue. Within minutes I was buried in motorcycles. Row after row, a multitude of bikes, people and still they came.

I did manage to talk to someone about my issue, there were people that kept us going. A few bikes back, they almost tore down this man's bike. Had pieces on the asphalt all around. Never saw them, when I looked back, the bike was together and running. Well...cross your fingers.

I did walk up onto a hill and when I looked back....it was a sea of motorcycles. Bikes, trikes. Some with trailers behind, some with sidecars, all with people. All these people, here for one reason and one reason only. I was told that the estimate this year was 430,000. I was also told that the most violent city in the country had a distinct drop in crime while all those people were there.

It was almost noon, we had been there about 4 to 5 hours, drinking our water, eating, buying, taking pics, getting to know each other, when those four jets came over. Flying low in formation, fast, loud and cool. Someone yelled, "5 minutes!" When the first rows started, we could only get anxious and watch as they rolled out. Row by row, as they came in they went out. Recently affixed flags furling against the wind. The sound as more and more bikes came to life and moved out of the staging area into the streets of our beloved nations capital. As we went out, the shouts went up. The spectators also came to life. Waving flags and slapping hands and whistling and shouting and saluting. We crossed the Arlington Memorial Bridge and the Potomac River, wound around to Constitution Avenue, pass the Lincoln Memorial and there he is. The Lone Marine, a big reason for coming, Marine Staff Sargent Tim Chambers. Full dress, in the heat, saluting every bike that comes by. Standing at attention, holding that salute for up to 4 hours.

They asked how it feels to ride by this man, honoring those who show up to spend their time and money to help search for those forgotten, those left behind in our wars. Those that didn't make it home.

Well...the way I see it.... I'm thinking...maybe it's like going to Vatican Square. Twenty-third and Constitution. There are people crying, some are shouting, some are speachless. They salute back, they rev those loud engines, blow their horns. It's not just a man, the Pope, the Marine. It is what he represents. Sure he takes his time and spends it on us. But in honoring us with his blessing, salute, even though I feel very undeserving of it, he also is providing a monumental lesson in humility. Thus producing an extremely spiritual and emotional moment that I can't wait to experience again.

Once passed, we turn right and move along beyond thousands of others, there to honor and support...us... as we support those who can't speak for themselves.

I was glad I could share that moment with my mom and with those whose names are sewn onto the back of my denim jacket and I hope they somehow realized that we had done this together.

Oh and by the way, somehow, I made that entire route with that gas light shining. Hmm... I wonder?