Usually it's best to start at the beginning, so I'll try to do just that. On Feb.18th, ten year old Hailey Owens was walking home from school. A man in a white truck called her over and she was kidnapped. Witnesses could not stop the truck but gave descriptions to the police. This man was not a stranger to Hailey. He worked as a teacher's aide and coach at her school. The Amber alert was issued and a suspect identified. By three am, her body had been found in his residence.
The news has been all over this story and had reported that her family needed help with funeral expenses. Not surprising. What family plans to bury a healthy ten year old? I saw an article about a motorcycle ride to help the Family pay for funeral expenses. I asked Dwight if he would mind going if the weather cooperated. Temperatures were forecast at forty-three with only a small chance of rain. I figured the sunshine would make the temperature feel like fifty and with a couple of extra layers, it would be just fine. Dwight just shook his head and said that he'd already looked into it. Translation: get your chaps, jackets, and chapstick ready-we leave early Sunday morning.
Temperatures in Jasper, Ar were around 39 and I fully expected the temperatures to get warmer later in the day as we headed north to Springfield, Mo. Boy, was I ever to be disappointed. When we got to Springfield, temperatures dropped to 33, the sun disappeared, and it was windy making the temperature drop even more. We bundled up and gave the bike a little test drive to get something warm to drink and make some changes in our gear. Dwight changed face masks and I added my leather vest to the ensemble and we stopped at McDonalds to get some much needed hot cocoa. I was a little nervous. I had on leather from head to toe(pink hair), and I've never gone into a public place looking like a member of Hell's Angels especially on a Sunday morning. Fears confirmed, heads turned as we walked in. I made my way to the restroom to wash up and this little old lady in her Sunday best grabbed my hands and told me "Thank you for what you're doing". I didn't have any problem making my way to the front counter to order our hot cocoa and enjoyed it with Dwight and our audience. Not much later, a lady walked up to Dwight and asked him what time the ride started and this stranger gave me a hug and said "thanks for what you're doing." I was glad Dwight got to see this lady, because I wasn't really sure he'd believe me about the bathroom lady. Before, she left I could hear her explaining to her table what we were doing there. We made our way to the American Legion Post thinking we were a good thirty minutes ahead of sign up. Apparently organizers had moved the time forward and we weren't early. Hundreds of bikes had already arrived. I was so proud to learn that more than 500 bikes from Arkansas had registered. I had no idea that other bikes were coming from Indiana, Illinois, and Kansas. It wasn't long before the parking lot filled up. There's a road that leaves from the Legion post to I44-it was filled up too. And the bikes kept coming. Every size, shape, and model. I heard that the family was arriving and things got really quiet. After things resumed to something normal, I made my way to the news vans to take some pictures. There was a pretty midnight blue truck with a magnetic sign that read "Hailey Owens is riding with us" and in the back, an immaculate bronze Harley tied down. I don't know if it was her life sized picture that did it or the Harley, but I just lost it. Took long deep breaths of air not to sob. This girl would never get to call herself a teenager. Her dad wouldn't get to teach her to drive. She and her mom would never pick out a prom dress. Hailey would never know what it's like to put on a senior ring. People can be too cruel.
Wiped my eyes and made my way back to Dwight, and it was time to say a prayer and the "Pledge". At the end of the "Pledge", there's always a couple of people that reave up their engines. It's a biker thing- a redneck thing-and something that's always done. It just kinda prepares me for when the announcer yells into the loud speaker, "start your engines". Just kinda. I grew up listening to loud engines and this shakes me to the core. The earth vibrates. The sound waves bounce off your body and I wear a helmet in hopes that some of my hearing will remain for my later years.
And we're off, through a tunnel of American flags. Pink and purple banners. Pink and purple were Hailey's favorite colors. Hundreds of bikes. Make that thousands of bikes. Turning onto the first road, I felt like a movie star. There were people lined up taking pictures and waving and they don't stop. Turning onto the second street, I look up ahead and there are bikes as far as I can see. Checking the rear view mirrors, my view doesn't change. Bikes as far as I can see. Rumbling down the street, Dwight slows to make a turn and a little boy makes his way pretty close to me and yells "God Bless the Bikers". Damn it. My face shield goes up. Let the people think the wind is making my eyes water and the cold temperature has my face turning red. My nice, warm fuzzy gloves come off because I'm gripping my camera and taking pictures. I've never seen anything like this. People are lined up for miles to wave at a bunch of bikers in freezing weather. Traffic stops for 2000 bikes even if there are no police escorts. Even on I44. Truckers blocked on ramps. People were stopped on the side of the freeway and on overpasses with banners. Bikes were far enough ahead of us, I could see little kids going crazy when the engines revved up under the over passes. When you rev up your engine in an over passes, it echoes. I really think the bikers enjoy it as much as the kids. I think some of the bikers got a huge kick out of the "Hooter" girls that came out to wave them on.
It cost fifteen dollars per bike to register with five dollars extra for each rider. With more than a thousand bikes (that's how many Dwight counted), that funeral is paid for.
Fifteen dollars is a small price to pay to have your faith in humanity restored.
