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Riding with Angels

 Riding With Angels

Reflections on the 2000 Blue Ridge 500
……..By Buster Moldenhauer



Forecasts for ride day were not so good but when the sun rises, clear skies take control and cool but pleasant temperatures are the order of the day. Carving up those wonderful and familiar Southern Appalachian roads is a special experience today because of the accompaniment of fifty riders who have gathered to enjoy the scenery and join our fight against childhood brain cancer. This is the day of the Blue Ridge 500, a day at the end of six months of painstaking planning, a day to enjoy motorcycle riding and the warm feelings associated with the purpose of this great event.

As the miles of dry, cool asphalt slip beneath the wheels, my mind wanders in those seconds when it isn’t occupied with maintaining the proper line through the curves; wanders to thoughts of the kids I’ve met over the years and to the parents of the kids who are no longer with us. I see the faces of these Angels – I see their smiles. I reach behind me and there’s nothing tangible but I know these angels are riding with me today over the hills and through the valleys of motorcycle sport-touring nirvana. I can feel their presence as strongly as the throbbing of the big twin motor between my legs. They are perched on my shoulder, crouched on my back seat, and hanging from my saddlebags.  They are smiling and laughing and squealing about what a good time we are having. If you’ve been around kids you’ve heard these same squeals of joy when they’re having a really good time. My Angels and I are squealing loudly this day.

Around almost every corner brighter vistas of God’s autumn handiwork are illuminated by the crisp fall sunshine against the mountains’ backdrop and the Angels squeal a little louder; a little more joyously as we sweep through each curve. The color of the leaves foretells of colder days with the approach of winter while leaves at the higher elevations tell that story in more pungent terms. Soon the leaves will be gone from the trees and motorcycle riding in the mountains will take on a curiously different character.  As those mountains speak to me on overcast, gray days of riding in the wintertime, so are these Angels singing, laughing and squealing to me this day as we carve tight lines through the curves aboard our eager Beemer.

Two of the Angels on the back of my bike this day will be at dinner with me tonight, along with a cadre of proud soldiers who have volunteered for this important battle. Others of these Angels will be with friends and family marking their passage from childhood to adulthood, some will be mindful of the children they have lost but hopeful that other parents might not have to repeat their pain, and others will be in heaven looking down on those of us left behind to finish this important work; and finish it we will!

To my motorcycle friends, I remind you that when you are engaged in the fight against childhood brain cancer you are riding with Angels. Take just a split second away from planning your next maneuver and open your heart to see if some of them aren’t on the back of your bike. I’ll bet you’ll find some back there squealing at every curve you lean into, every scenic vista you slow for, and every sunset you stop to admire. Listen with your heart, my friend and you’ll know that you are riding with Angels.

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