A Journey for Jonathan

On January 26, 2005 Cpl. Jonathan Bowling, USMC, died in Iraq.

An article in the Washington Post published in late March caught my attention:

http://www.washingtonpost.com/wp-srv/metro/specials/homefront/town_article.html

Jonathan's father, Darrell, supports our intentions and efforts in Iraq (http://www.washingtonpost.com/wp-srv/mmedia/metro/032105-9s.htm) as do I. However, the human and emotional cost of such intentions is enormous and I feel it is important to be reminded of such inconceivable cost. I therefore decided to participate in the memorial fund raising ride mentioned in the article. The funds raised will be awarded as a scholarship to someone graduating from Jonathan's old high school and planning on a career in law enforcement.

Friday afternoon I departed my home for a six hour ride on my old Goldwing heading on down towards Stuart, VA.

I caught a little rain on the way down.

Now, when I say "a little rain", I want you to think of animals lining up two by two.

Once I hit the hills of southern Virginia the rain came down in buckets. Lightening lit up the sky. Since I was climbing the mountain it seemed that the lightening was a little closer than normal. I just kept telling my self "the tires are rubber, the tires are rubber, the tires are rubber". Seemed to work. I wasn't struck by lightening, contrary to my lovely wife's many admonishments.

The rain was hitting my helmet so hard it sounded like hail. It covered the windscreen of my bike so I couldn't see through it. The windscreen is adjusted so high by the dufus that rides the bike that I couldn't see over it. My face shield fogged up, or so I thought. I tried to wipe the face shield inside and out with my soaked glove but as it turns it wasn't fog, it was the rain beating on my face shield that prevented me from seeing.

All of this taking place at night on a winding road climbing a mountain I affectionately came to call Mount Ararat.

Finally, out of desperation, I lifted my face shield to get it out of the way.

Now THAT was a good idea, wasn't it?

Now the driving rain is hitting my glasses and face full force. I'm under water here. Think "Big Fish, the Sequel". Glub, glub.

There was no way I could see the road other than brief glimpses of the dotted white line on the left and the solid white line on the right. However, this was intermittent and did not allow enough reaction time when the road suddenly, and frequently, darted left and/or right.

The best I could do was to find a slow moving four wheeler being driven by someone even more chicken than myself (which is saying something). I would center myself up between their tail lights and just follow them up and down the mountains. I highly recommend the new Malibu for this practice. Great tail lights for riding in the rain. Followed one guy into this garage. Ha! Ha! Just kidding.

The good news is that I had on full rain gear. The bad news is that the rain gear is old enough to vote and is incontinent. The leaky rain gear makes ME look incontinent, although in this case after scaring my self a few dozen times up in the mountains I may have very well wet myself.

Right about now you are probably saying to your self "Don! What were you thinking of?!!? Why put yourself in such a risky position? Why not just pull over?!?!? What are you, CRAZY?????".

So ... anyway ... I pulled into the hotel parking lot later that night. I walked into the lobby of the hotel looking like a drowned, incontinent rat. The lady behind the counter takes one look at me and says "You weren't out riding your bike in THAT storm, were you?!?!". I almost replied, "Here's your sign", but I have learned to not irritate the person assigning my room at a hotel. I told her that in about a month this will have been a fun ride.

Got a good night's sleep and headed on over to Stuart the next morning.

POP QUIZ!! Do you know who was born in Stuart, VA???

J.E.B. Stuart of Civil War fame!!!

Isn’t that a real forehead slapper? I guess he had to be born somewhere.

As I rolled into Stuart I decided to gas the bike up at the local gas station. They had a nice sign out front saying "Welcome Bike Riders". Nice touch.

The memorial ride was to launch at 9:00 so I arrived at the appropriate high school parking lot at 8:45 ready to register. There were only two bikes there!!! Uh oh. I figured that some riders may have had second thoughts due to last night's drizzle, but come on! Bikers are tougher than that!

Turns out I messed up. When I mentioned the somewhat low turnout (today's understatement) to Miranda, co-organizer of the ride and wonder wife of Vernon, she looked at me and, talking very slowly and using small words for my benefit, told me that registration starts at 9:00, the ride starts at noon. Whew!

Now I have three hours to burn and it was a wonderful three hours. I talked to Vernon for awhile. Turns out he is a veteran volunteer fire fighter with 31 years of service under his belt and some interesting experiences (four airplane crashes, trains running into semis, numerous car wrecks, etc.) Remember the airplane crash that killed two pilots and eight members of the Hendrick family of NASCAR fame? Vernon and his crew were first on the scene. It was his task to confirm the fatalities and count the bodies. Not a pleasant task. Great guy with a wonderful attitude. Threatens to write a book about his experiences. Hope he does. Vernon also started the local chapter of the Red Knights, an organization for firefighters who ride bikes. I met a couple other members of this chapter, William and Jim, strong people all. The Red Knights is a sister organization to the Blue Knights, which is for police officers who ride. I'm thinking about starting a club for older, pudgy riders called the Good Nights. What do you think?

I then met Jonathan's father, Darrell Bowling. Mr. Bowling is a Virginia State Trooper (anyone ever receive one of his autographs?). While reading the article about Jonathan it struck me that Jonathan was a good guy. I can see why. He came from good stock. His father is a solid, lean, articulate gentleman and it was an honor to meet him. Mr. Bowling was to lead the procession riding Jonathan's new Harley that he purchased just before being called up and being deployed to Iraq. Beautiful black Harley.

It was Jonathan's goal to follow in his father's foot steps, becoming a Virginia State Trooper. Jonathan was already an exceptional human being. He wore three uniforms: as a volunteer firefighter, a police officer and a United States Marine. He was very well liked and respected. In a way, Jonathan accomplished his goal. Just before the ride started a proclamation by Governor Warner was read, making Jonathan an honorary Virginia State Trooper. I believe this meant a lot to his Dad.

A total of 288 bikes participated in the ride(!), and a wonderful ride it was.

Snippets of my memory of the memorial ride include:

- The older gentleman at the end of the driveway, holding his cap over his heart, saluting Jonathan as we departed the high school.

- Many, many people standing by the highway waving, smiling, holding flags.

- The two older ladies standing in front of the store. Not smiling, not waving, just standing there holding up their small U.S. flags, saluting Jonathan as we rode by.

- The two fire engines, one on each side of the road, lights flashing. A welcome station of inspiration.

- The local Islamic Center. Whoa! Interesting emotions there. Let logic reign.

- Stopping at Jonathan's grave site. Quiet and serene on a hill by a pond. Almost looked like a family cemetery.

My mind wanders, frustrated with the loss of such a fine young man. Why do we have to DO this?!? Why do we have to have memorial rides for such fine young people with only a past??

Lump in the throat, tear in the eye.

KNOCK IT OFF!!

A group ride with 288 bikes has more elastic energy than a bungee cord. The procession stretches out and then snaps together again when the front of the procession slows down or stops. Participating in such a ride is not an easy thing and if your mind wanders and you miss the bungee snapping together you can easily run into the bike in front of you and from where I come, Pardner, that's considered tacky.

- Kids with flags. Smiling and waving. Nice. Reassuring. Good timing. I feel better and the answers to the questions, so very complex, are beyond my ability to solve from my armchair.

- The volunteer fire station with the banner reading "Welcome Home Matt. Our Hero". Welcome home Matt, whoever you are. You are my hero.

- So many small towns. So many volunteers with ambulances and fire engines and so many good people saluting Jonathan as we ride by.

- Mr. Bowling looks good on Jonathan's bike. Not as good as Jonathan would, but good never-the-less.

- I love small town America.

The ride ended at, guess what, a volunteer fire station! For five bucks we received a very filling meal and camaraderie. A 50/50 raffle was held. The winner would get half and the other half goes into the scholarship fund. The young man who won immediately flipped his winnings back into the scholarship fund. Class act.

This was a very meaningful experience. I cannot say I was happy to do it. I would have preferred to have not met these wonderful people. But I did and I'm glad I went. This is an annual event and I'll be there next time as well.

It was evident to me that Jonathan's family and friends will be forever faithful to his memory.

I have never served my country in the military, and certainly have never been a United States Marine. So, I'm probably breaking some rule here, but to Jonathan I wish to say Semper Fi. I am grateful to you and will be forever faithful to your memory.

After a good meal, wonderful camaraderie and a final word to Jonathan's father I depart for home.

Caught a little rain on the ride home.

Didn’t matter.

Don