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My ride with mom today
fish
Registered Users Posts: 2,950 Major grins
"Some people will tell you that slow is good -- and it may be, on some
days -- but I am here to tell you that fast is better. I've always believed
this, in spite of the trouble it's caused me. Being shot out of a cannon
will always be better than being squeezed out of a tube. That is why
God made fast motorcycles, Bubba...."
- Hunter S. Thompson, Song of the Sausage Creature
As mentioned in another thread, my mother passed away last week after a relatively brief, but debilitating illness. I got a call from the mortuary yesterday, saying that mom's cremains and death certificates were ready to be picked up. After a relatively sleepless night, I showered, geared up, and headed down to Redwood City to pick up mom and take her home with me. We were going to take the very long way home. Never in my entire 26 year motorcycling career, had I been able to convince mom to swing a leg over and let me take her for a spin. She used to joke about it and even sat on my bikes on occasion, making "vroom vroom" sounds, then cackling like a tickled hen as she stepped back off.
On my way to the mortuary, I wondered what Al the Funeral Director was going to think when I came in to pick up mom on my motorcycle. Horror? Shock? Disbelief? No...none of those. He met me at the front door (they keep it locked...why? :scratch), and had a big grin on his face. He asked me to come in and wait in his office while he went into the back to get mom. I signed the paper stating that I had taken possession of mom's cremains. We shook hands and I told him that it was a pleasure working with him. I grabbed my helmet and he picked up mom's cremains and said he'd bring her out to the bike. On the long walk through the '70's funeral parlor decor, Al said that his mom told him and his two brothers that they were not allowed to have motorcycles or tattoos. He grinned really wide, and said that shortly after his mother died, his younger brother bought a big red chrome-encrusted Harley...the biggest one he could find...with part of his inheritance. Shortly after, the same brother got a tattoo of a tiger (he and his mom were born in the year of the tiger), and had his mom's name inscribed under the tiger. As we continued down the hallway, Al said that his older brother, now 60, got a tattoo of an eagle on his arm and showed it off during a formal party last year. By now, Al the Funeral Director was laughing loudly...not something you'd expect to hear in a funeral chapel. I asked him if he got a tattoo too, and he said "oh no, I'm not the tattoo type", and then continued that he rode on the back of his brother's red Harley everytime he rides it up from Las Vegas. Not exactly what I expected.
I brought a big fluffy towel with me and had my Canon 20D dSLR in a smallish holster case, both in my right saddlebag. Comfy and secure fit. Neither moved around much during the 75 mile ride through the Santa Cruz Mountains to the coast and back home to San Jose. I asked mom if she was ready to go, and I didn't hear a response, so I can only assume that she was really looking forward to it. I don't think there was any fear involved at all. Excitement, certainly. I was jazzed about going for this ride -- my mom's first and last motorcycle ride though my stomping grounds. I've been riding those roads since high school, and the memories were all streaming right through my helmet, faster than a 1972 BMW slash-5 approaches terminal velocity when dropped from an airplane.
I asked mom which way she wanted to go and I didn't hear any response. Probably because she didn't know the roads. I chose the route. Straight from the funeral home to my mom's house to take one last look.
Then we rode down the street to my middle school to check it out. I haven't been in that parking lot, since I was a pre-teen looking for trouble. :uhoh
My sister, Devora, attended La Entrada too. She was two years ahead of me, and I used to really like playing with her girlfriends. :wink
From La Entrada, I made a bee-line straight for Woodside. Both Devora and I attended Woodside High School. That's where I got my vehicular knowledge, and started getting into motorcycles, hotrods, etc. etc. Including heading up toward Huddart Park to drink Schlitz Malt Liquor at a buddy's house, then consider coming back to class (we usually didn't). Hey, my parents are gone now...I can tell the stories now, without worrying about getting in trouble. Or worse. :cool
Sandhill Rd to Whisky Hill Road and the Pioneer. I had some really good times at that bar. I think.
King's Mountain Road.
Obviously I wasn't the only rider doing his thing in the perfect weather today. It was in the 70's on the mountain and mid-80's here in the valley. This is March??
Across Skyline (35) and down Tunitas Creek Road west.
The GS was on autopilot. I didn't have to think about anything other than where to stop for photo ops and which road to take next. I think I dug into the ABS a few times, and had some wheelspin, but nothing too dramatic. 'Cept for that one bump going up Kings Mountain, where I can get great air in second gear :giggle It was truly zen (if I can imagine what "zen" is...), meditative. Relaxing. Copacetic.
My yings and yangs were singing harmoniously.
goddamn, i love those roads. i've been riding them since I was a 16yo punk riding one of my yamaha rd's. zinga zinga ding ding ding. The GS makes no such noise. It sounds like a large volume and satisfying flatulent barrrrroooooom! Stuck with the same number of cylinders tho.
So I bolted down Tunitas Creek straight for the coast and a photo op. I thought it was going to be a quick run up the hill, pose mom, snappy snappy and on the road in 3 mins. No, I spent about 20 minutes standing there looking at the water breaking against the cliffs. It took about 10 seconds for the spray from a big wave to settle back down. That was some serious surf.
What a beautiful day. Stopping here reminded me of a ride I took with Crash and others a few years ago. I'm sure i've got a photo somewhere...
Stopped in San Gregorio to shoot my dgrin challenge 34 shot, and blasted straight up through La Honda and into Skylonda for a photo op in front of Alice's Restaurant.
Mmmm....we've had more than a few Advrider lunches up there. Again, I'm sure I have photos somewhere, but I'll spare our gentler readers of the disgusting and disturbing debauchery concerning the chili-pucks.
Finally, the GS was out of gas and so was I. We just slabbed it down to SJ on 280. Rolled into the garage and there was fishwife holding out an icy-cold SNPA for me. Fishwife rocks. :nod
Thanks for looking. And thanks in advance for any comments. I keep having this nagging feeling I'm forgetting to thank someone on vidiots, advrider, /5bs. So thanks...in advance.
the end. phew.
days -- but I am here to tell you that fast is better. I've always believed
this, in spite of the trouble it's caused me. Being shot out of a cannon
will always be better than being squeezed out of a tube. That is why
God made fast motorcycles, Bubba...."
- Hunter S. Thompson, Song of the Sausage Creature
As mentioned in another thread, my mother passed away last week after a relatively brief, but debilitating illness. I got a call from the mortuary yesterday, saying that mom's cremains and death certificates were ready to be picked up. After a relatively sleepless night, I showered, geared up, and headed down to Redwood City to pick up mom and take her home with me. We were going to take the very long way home. Never in my entire 26 year motorcycling career, had I been able to convince mom to swing a leg over and let me take her for a spin. She used to joke about it and even sat on my bikes on occasion, making "vroom vroom" sounds, then cackling like a tickled hen as she stepped back off.
On my way to the mortuary, I wondered what Al the Funeral Director was going to think when I came in to pick up mom on my motorcycle. Horror? Shock? Disbelief? No...none of those. He met me at the front door (they keep it locked...why? :scratch), and had a big grin on his face. He asked me to come in and wait in his office while he went into the back to get mom. I signed the paper stating that I had taken possession of mom's cremains. We shook hands and I told him that it was a pleasure working with him. I grabbed my helmet and he picked up mom's cremains and said he'd bring her out to the bike. On the long walk through the '70's funeral parlor decor, Al said that his mom told him and his two brothers that they were not allowed to have motorcycles or tattoos. He grinned really wide, and said that shortly after his mother died, his younger brother bought a big red chrome-encrusted Harley...the biggest one he could find...with part of his inheritance. Shortly after, the same brother got a tattoo of a tiger (he and his mom were born in the year of the tiger), and had his mom's name inscribed under the tiger. As we continued down the hallway, Al said that his older brother, now 60, got a tattoo of an eagle on his arm and showed it off during a formal party last year. By now, Al the Funeral Director was laughing loudly...not something you'd expect to hear in a funeral chapel. I asked him if he got a tattoo too, and he said "oh no, I'm not the tattoo type", and then continued that he rode on the back of his brother's red Harley everytime he rides it up from Las Vegas. Not exactly what I expected.
I brought a big fluffy towel with me and had my Canon 20D dSLR in a smallish holster case, both in my right saddlebag. Comfy and secure fit. Neither moved around much during the 75 mile ride through the Santa Cruz Mountains to the coast and back home to San Jose. I asked mom if she was ready to go, and I didn't hear a response, so I can only assume that she was really looking forward to it. I don't think there was any fear involved at all. Excitement, certainly. I was jazzed about going for this ride -- my mom's first and last motorcycle ride though my stomping grounds. I've been riding those roads since high school, and the memories were all streaming right through my helmet, faster than a 1972 BMW slash-5 approaches terminal velocity when dropped from an airplane.
I asked mom which way she wanted to go and I didn't hear any response. Probably because she didn't know the roads. I chose the route. Straight from the funeral home to my mom's house to take one last look.
Then we rode down the street to my middle school to check it out. I haven't been in that parking lot, since I was a pre-teen looking for trouble. :uhoh
My sister, Devora, attended La Entrada too. She was two years ahead of me, and I used to really like playing with her girlfriends. :wink
From La Entrada, I made a bee-line straight for Woodside. Both Devora and I attended Woodside High School. That's where I got my vehicular knowledge, and started getting into motorcycles, hotrods, etc. etc. Including heading up toward Huddart Park to drink Schlitz Malt Liquor at a buddy's house, then consider coming back to class (we usually didn't). Hey, my parents are gone now...I can tell the stories now, without worrying about getting in trouble. Or worse. :cool
Sandhill Rd to Whisky Hill Road and the Pioneer. I had some really good times at that bar. I think.
King's Mountain Road.
Obviously I wasn't the only rider doing his thing in the perfect weather today. It was in the 70's on the mountain and mid-80's here in the valley. This is March??
Across Skyline (35) and down Tunitas Creek Road west.
The GS was on autopilot. I didn't have to think about anything other than where to stop for photo ops and which road to take next. I think I dug into the ABS a few times, and had some wheelspin, but nothing too dramatic. 'Cept for that one bump going up Kings Mountain, where I can get great air in second gear :giggle It was truly zen (if I can imagine what "zen" is...), meditative. Relaxing. Copacetic.
My yings and yangs were singing harmoniously.
goddamn, i love those roads. i've been riding them since I was a 16yo punk riding one of my yamaha rd's. zinga zinga ding ding ding. The GS makes no such noise. It sounds like a large volume and satisfying flatulent barrrrroooooom! Stuck with the same number of cylinders tho.
She knows just what I like
The angel on my bike
She found me down on a two ton anchor
Tangled up in wire
She always gets it right
The angel on my bike
I could be killed if the train goes faster
Well angel watch my life
I can't handle a care
I want, but I can't be there
While angel's a prayer
It's 45 miles on that highway
Angel double prayer
I have to sleep with my eyes on the white lines
Elvis need of repair
I only wanted to believe
That angel it's me that you need
And there's only, only one heart on that highway
Angel double prayer
- Wallflowers
The angel on my bike
She found me down on a two ton anchor
Tangled up in wire
She always gets it right
The angel on my bike
I could be killed if the train goes faster
Well angel watch my life
I can't handle a care
I want, but I can't be there
While angel's a prayer
It's 45 miles on that highway
Angel double prayer
I have to sleep with my eyes on the white lines
Elvis need of repair
I only wanted to believe
That angel it's me that you need
And there's only, only one heart on that highway
Angel double prayer
- Wallflowers
So I bolted down Tunitas Creek straight for the coast and a photo op. I thought it was going to be a quick run up the hill, pose mom, snappy snappy and on the road in 3 mins. No, I spent about 20 minutes standing there looking at the water breaking against the cliffs. It took about 10 seconds for the spray from a big wave to settle back down. That was some serious surf.
What a beautiful day. Stopping here reminded me of a ride I took with Crash and others a few years ago. I'm sure i've got a photo somewhere...
Stopped in San Gregorio to shoot my dgrin challenge 34 shot, and blasted straight up through La Honda and into Skylonda for a photo op in front of Alice's Restaurant.
Mmmm....we've had more than a few Advrider lunches up there. Again, I'm sure I have photos somewhere, but I'll spare our gentler readers of the disgusting and disturbing debauchery concerning the chili-pucks.
Finally, the GS was out of gas and so was I. We just slabbed it down to SJ on 280. Rolled into the garage and there was fishwife holding out an icy-cold SNPA for me. Fishwife rocks. :nod
Thanks for looking. And thanks in advance for any comments. I keep having this nagging feeling I'm forgetting to thank someone on vidiots, advrider, /5bs. So thanks...in advance.
the end. phew.
"Consulting the rules of composition before taking a photograph, is like consulting the laws of gravity before going for a walk." - Edward Weston
"The Edge... there is no honest way to explain it because the only people who really know where it is are the ones who have gone over."-Hunter S.Thompson
"The Edge... there is no honest way to explain it because the only people who really know where it is are the ones who have gone over."-Hunter S.Thompson
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John
Cincinnati Smug Leader
RIP Lillian Fishman (2005)
RIP Bertha Koplowitz (2005)
RIP Raoul Duke (aka Hunter S. Thompson) (2005)
"The Edge... there is no honest way to explain it because the only people who really know where it is are the ones who have gone over."-Hunter S.Thompson
Ed
www.edhughesphoto.com
Thank you for sharing such a personal and private day.
Tim
Speak with sweet words, for you never know when you may have to eat them....
Regards,
Eric
It's better to be hated for who you are than to be loved for who you're not.
http://photosbyeric.smugmug.com
I have to agree, Fishwife truly rocks!
I admit ... I wept.
Gorgeous pics too.
God bless her. She raised a unique and very talented individual.
Thanks for sharing your final ride with her.
I was able to give my mom a ride many years ago and she really enjoyed it. Your storey brought back fond memories. Thanks
Glad you got that ride with mom and thanks for taking us along for
the ride too.
Ian
Did you catch the movie, "Around The Bend" when it was out about 3 months ago? These guys took grandpa all around the southwest and scattered his ashes in various places that he always wanted to go. It seemed kinda crazy as a movie, but it actually is an idea that is growing on me.
My dad passed away 9 years ago and my mom still has his cremains in the cardboard box in her house. It was bugging me until I saw the movie, and now I think me and dad may go on a final road trip someday.
Keep strong,
Gordy
www.dkoyanagi.com
www.flickr.com/photos/dkoyanagi/
a couple of years ago. She's on a road trip this week with the cremains of
both parents. Taking them to the place they first fell in love and always
wanted to go back to but were never able.
I think it's a great idea.
Ian
Onya, mate.
Thanks.
Andre Breton
Excellent idea. Most of mom's cremains will be scattered over the pacific ocean in about a week, but I'm going to hold back a spice-jar's worth to scatter in some special places. I really like that idea and it's good for the soul. I did the same with my dad's cremains, when he died 9 years ago.
Ashes to ashes dust to dust and all that...
"The Edge... there is no honest way to explain it because the only people who really know where it is are the ones who have gone over."-Hunter S.Thompson
That's the place, mang. That was almost four years ago.
"The Edge... there is no honest way to explain it because the only people who really know where it is are the ones who have gone over."-Hunter S.Thompson
Thank you... I almost didn't make it through... Tough as steel (ex-militar) but can still cry like a baby
May the best be with you and your loved ones...
kc7dji
I've nothing to say that would add to your story... I would just like to wish you and the fishes strength for the time to come.
Michiel de Brieder
http://www.digital-eye.nl
I'm sorry about your mom. I lost mine a couple of years back and it was rough.
The hardest thing is watching my Dad live without her.
Great pics Fish, obviously you HAVEN'T lost your touch, (told ya
She obviously enjoyed the ride.
RM
"It's better to bite the hand that feeds you, than to feed the hand that bites you" - Me
Sorry about your loss..
Bod...
Jerry Lodriguss - Sports Photographer
Reporters sans frontières
I've rec'd a ton of emails and PMs from this story and every single one of them has meant a great deal to me. Not only is it nice to know that people read and enjoyed my photo essay, but that it stirred emotions in them that ordinarily lie dormant until it's too late. Posts, emails, and PMs stating that the story spurred them to go give their moms phonecalls and/or hugs are the best. Do it NOW...don't wait until it's too late. Further, knowing that my essay made grown men cry means that my words and photos weren't just so many 1's and 0's that will float off into the ether. They became meaningful and emotional for others. My daughter would call this a "warm fuzzy."
Cheers...and thank you.
"The Edge... there is no honest way to explain it because the only people who really know where it is are the ones who have gone over."-Hunter S.Thompson
Onya china....