July, 2007

The Patriot Guard
An Escort for PFC. Matthew Bean

by Hawk Hickman

On Friday, June 8, a brave young soldier from Pembroke, named Matthew Bean, was buried in Pembroke. His funeral had been publicized in advance and a group of protestors from the Baptist Church in Kansas who had previously disrupted several funerals of U.S. soldiers killed in Iraq, had taken out a permit to protest in Pembroke.

Our club had issued a notice that the local Patriot Guard contingent would be providing escort and protection from the protestors, on the day of the services. Five MMRs showed up on Friday (Ed Kelley, Dennis Hoffer, Clem Walsh, Steve Celli and myself). I was in a very emotional mood because my father had passed away the day before and his services would be the next day. I had the day off for bereavement and it seemed like the right thing to do for a brave soldier in the local area.

We formed up in front of Kohl's department store in Pembroke at 9 a.m. and it immediately became clear that there would be a large and determined contingent of Patriot Guard personnel. Determined, in that their primary focus, besides honoring Matthew and his family, would be to ensure that any protestors who might show up would not be seen or heard by the family. As it turned out, they didn't show up, but had partially achieved their goal by getting a lot of publicity by pulling their permit.

As we formed up, we were told that if they did show up, we were not to confront them, but to simply provide a barrier between them and the family (they are not allowed within 500 yards of the funeral, so all we would have to do is position ourselves and our bikes between them and the family, who would be fairly far removed).

As we began moving towards the church with about 100 bikes, I quite unexpectedly started choking up and almost had tears in my eyes. This was a complete surprise and has happened to me very few times in my life. That's how moving everything quickly became as we all sensed the seriousness and solemnity of the occasion. We waited over an hour out on the long drive leading up to the church while the services were held. We were lined up on both sides of the drive with at least 30 or 40 huge American flags pointed out over the drive.

Matthew's brother walked down the entire line and personally thanked each of us. After the church service, we escorted the hearse and the family to the cemetery in Pembroke center. Along the entire route there were little children, parents and older veterans lining the route and holding flags and saluted as we passed. When we got to the cemetery and turned the bikes off, it was so quiet you could have heard the proverbial pin drop. It looked like the entire town was there.

In the cemetery, every one gathered around the grave site. There was a military contingent, sheriff's office, police, fire and Patriot Guard. A gun salute was sounded and taps were played. It was very hot in the sun, but no one moved or sat down. Everyone was thinking about how hot it was in Iraq every day and the sacrifices being made over there. What was an hour in the sun honoring this soldier?

I would recommend this experience to anyone who has a chance to go to such a service. Ed Kelley, who is a member of the Patriot Guard (as is Mike Watts), can direct you on how to join.

Paulatics – The Bitch
by Paula McCallum

Some of you may think I’m a beyatch, and sure, I can be on occasion. Trust me, you don’t want to be on the receiving end of these PMS induced moments. But this Father’s Day weekend, I literally was “The Bitch,” riding on the back of Bill’s bike.

I was also jokingly called “wuss” by one of the 22 Mystery Riders who stayed with us at Indian Head. I proudly accept that title too. Call me what you want but at least I admit my limitations. Keeping the throttle cranked while being pounded by the wind from Manomet to Lincoln, NH at 75 mph is not my idea of a good time. I’d rather just hang on and keep the helmet on my head. - thank you very much. (well at least as far as the Massachusetts border)

Even if the Tootster were trailered up to Laconia, I still wouldn’t have been able to ride the 800 miles we clocked in on this 4-day vacation. Riding my own bike would have required such a level of concentration around hairpin turns, up mountains and riding defensively through traffic, that after a few hours, I would have keeled over from mere exhaustion. How did everyone else do it? Yet, I observed many riders seeking solace in the Jacuzzi at the end of the day, needing it much more than I did. (The Road Glide’s saddle is a lot cushier than the red sliver of a seat on my Sporty).

Being The Bitch gave me the opportunity to chat with my honey or to just kick back absorbing nature’s finery. It also allowed me to daydream or to start composing my experiences for this newsletter. Riding Bitch is like being on a meandering roller coaster that lasts for 10 hours. You only get off the ride long enough to pee or to take a much needed ice cream break.

But it’s not all “Driving Miss Daisy” when you’re The Bitch. Navigational duties were required of me for our rides. I had to stay alert to point out routes, potholes, pedestrians and turns to those who followed behind. Our charted course took us up Rte. 112 over to Rte. 2. Into Vermont, we rode down scenic Rte. 100 stopping at Moss Glen Falls before cutting over to Rte. 4. We arrived in Quechee, Vermont at 5 p.m. for the Balloon Festival and Craft Fair recommended by Dick Tupper.

There we sat in an open field while 15 or so multi-colored balloons were inflated all around us. One-by-one they rose up into the cloudless blue sky and floated away along air currents. Just as we were appreciating this awesome event, Lee quipped, “Wouldn’t it be funny if the bottom of the basket was rotted, and all the people fell out?”

On Saturday, we rode down to Meredith to take the train into Weirs Beach so we could avoid the “no-fun for any rider” traffic jams that inevitably happen with the thousands of bikers who descend on the Weirs during Bike Week.

For lunch, we hit the Yankee Smokehouse in W. Ossipee, for, what else? Strawberry Shortcake! (+ baby back ribs, warm corn bread and a cup of corn chowder). If you stuck a pin in me afterwards, I would have exploded. I bet Lee would have like to have seen that! But being The Bitch, I was able to digest my food riding up to Cathedral Ledge and winding our way down the Kangamangus highway.