Debated posting this, but then decided WTF people can decide to read or not and writing it might be therapeutic.

Some of you may remember my introduction last fall and how I waited for my new scoot. Then I posted my tale of how I picked her up after work one day and rode straight over to see Dad who had just checked in to the hospital. He got up, dragging his tubes and wires to check her out through the window. They treated his heart condition, got his diabetes under control and we went on a couple of pretty good rides together before the snow flew. He bought himself a new bike shortly after that and waited all winter to get to ride with me and my brother-in-law. Well he started having more and more trouble and sure enough a few weeks ago they told him he had pancreatic cancer - spread already into his liver, there was nothing they could offer besides morphine, and that his heart procedure and other things they had planned for him were summarily cancelled. He was then discharged, in shock, in pain, bitter and scared out of his mind.

Since then for the past few weeks spring has been ever so slowly warming things up. This Sat. I rode out to Dad's and he and the bro-in-law and I set out down the road. The air was cool, but we were oblivious. For us the universe shrank to 3 motorcycles blasting down highway #39, Dad on point, me on the outside behind him and Art over and behind me. Cares were forgotten for the moment and it was like the old days again.

We pulled into Leduc and stopped at the pharmacy for Dad's pills then had some lunch. Dad seemed to have a great appetite and we swapped stories and warmed up for about an hour. After we filled up our bikes we swung by Art's sister's place where two guys were just finishing off wrenching on a big, stroked shovelhead. While we hung around admiring the collection of scoots, Dad said he wasn't feeling too well. Maybe we should cut the planned ride short. Then pretty soon he just disappeared round the corner and quietly brought up his lunch. I just stood there for a moment after he seemed finished then took him his helmet. It just about floored me to see the tears in his eyes. I gave him some tissues and we just looked at each other for a moment. Art wanted to hang with his buddies for a while and said he'd catch up with us. We decided to head back and just the two of us headed out of town.

Dad was riding straight backed and proud on his brand new bike, but I couldn't help but thinking how little time we have left for this sort of thing. We went slow, i.e.. the speed limit, for a change making the ride last. The water was running high and swift in the ditches. Vs of geese and ducks were in the sky at all different levels above us. The wind was behind us and the pavement was smooth. We tightened up the formation and rode home, living for the moment and I at least engraving ride into my memory like it was our last ride ever. Because it just might have been.

For all out there who are riding in spirit only, there's another one going to join you folks pretty soon. A great guy, a strong spirit, an unassuming man with an infectious laugh and "just the thing for that" in his toolbox.

I'll be riding in the cancer ride this year.
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dbh - 1999 FXDS-Conv