Rider Missing (Memorial Ride)

Loaded up for the memorial ride

I continued to make hocking and spitting sounds. Occasionally my rear wheel would spin out as I strained to muscle my bike up the hill. My shirt is soaked in sweat and trail dust but it's better than the alternative and that's the reason why I'm on a memorial ride.

Mortality, its inevitable. One day we are all going to die. I don’t like the idea of dying any more than the next person but eventually I am going to check out.

I try to embrace each day as it comes even though some days are harder than others.  To me, getting out on my bike is as much about confronting my fears as it is to connect with my friends but this month we are one rider shorter. Out of respect for his friends and family members I’m going to keep my description of the missing rider deliberately vague.

Our missing rider was a larger than life personality with an infections laugh and he loved to push his fellow riders out of their comfort zone. While I can’t say we were close and we only did a handful of rides together back in the nineties he left a big impression.

Recently a group of his friends rode in his memory. Even though the missing rider couldn’t be with us his bike was. One of the members of the group was given a bike that belonged to the missing rider by the missing rider’s parents so the missing rider could be represented.

 I’ve been to plenty of memorials but this was the only one that was a true celebration of the missing person's life. The missing rider’s bike would occasionally make a squeak or a groan and otherwise make its presence known. We laughed, pissed in the woods, ate food, told off color jokes, swore, and rode some beautiful trails. What better way is there for a missing rider to be remembered?