Woke up early yesterday, got some coffee in me, and prepared for a ride.
A little kid passed away about a week ago. Genetic disorders, multiple, he wasn't supposed to live to the age of one. He made it to seven. He liked motorcycles. His mom asked a friend if they could find some motorcycle riders to do an escort to the cemetery. That request made it to facebook. And that facebook post found the Motorcycle Riders of Utah, which is how I found out about it.
Not the greatest photo, but I'm the guy on the far left there. About the only time you'll hear me describe myself in such a fashion.
I didn't do an exact count but there were at least 150 motorcycles that showed up to escort a little kid to his final rest. The formation was half a mile long. 99% of us didn't know the family, didn't know little Stockton. We just wanted to get together to do something for a grieving family. Harleys, sport bikes, Can-Ams, one trike that used the rear end of a 67 VW Beetle. Old folks, young folks, and everything in between. The family came out of the funeral home and started crying all over again to see how many people showed up. It was a good thing.
So that's where I was yesterday. Came back a little sunburnt and dehydrated from the heat, but it was good to get together with so many different people who didn't talk politics for an afternoon.
Now to do the lawn that I ignored yesterday.