We need heroes
Three years ago, I rode out to Macon for my first time to join the escort as the Miracle Riders came home. I didn’t know any of them, and as they pulled in – weather-beaten, windburnt, and a bit grimy from the road – they seemed larger than life. The cheering crowd and police escort certainly reinforced the “Heroes returning home” vibe of the event.
Just a few days ago, I pulled into Macon with 14 amazing guys. Still weather-beaten and a bit grimy, we were greeted by the same kind of cheering crowd. But now I understand that it’s not the Riders who are heroes.
I’m still trying to gather all the experiences that happened the past 21 plus days. After being home for the past few days and trying to get back in the normal routine of working 8-5, I keep thinking about the brotherhood and the black asphalt road that keeps winding through this great county. Snow covered mountains as you ride past, large vast empty grasslands that lead to deserts, and of course the barb wire fences that stretch on forever. In between all these sights are the people that we met, from Cooper who is 12 years old gave his own $50.00 as a donation. The older cowboy in the restaurant with short pants, boots and his hat, asked a few questions and handed over $200.00. There were stories like this every day for the riders and to be part of this great adventure was nothing but awesome. I will carry these memories with me forever, as all the riders will.