I just spent Sunday riding with one of my dearest friends; "Big Denny" as we call him. Granted, Denny isn't so big anymore - cancer reduced him to about "half the man he used to be". I thought we were going to lose him just a few short years ago. But, Denny is a survivor. He fought, and he fought hard. He has a wife and two wonderful kids that he just wasn't going to leave behind. At least not until last Sunday...
Denny grew up riding in rural Wisconsin. When he moved out here and got married (and I met him) about 30 years ago, he (like many of us) got all "responsible" and sold his bikes. He always loved to talk bikes with me, and was quite envious that I was still riding. For Denny, it was always "Jeff, someday, we're gonna ride together..." Well, Sunday was "someday".
His wonderful wife Penny put him up to it. He was always there for his family, always putting them first. Penny told him it was time to do something just for Denny. She told him to go out and buy that bike; he had more than earned it. So he did. He did it "right", revisiting the motorcycle safety classes and relearning to ride. He's been taking little putts around the neighborhood after work. He's been regaining his "sea legs". Well, Sunday, it was time.
We put a couple hundred miles on the scooters together. It was great. I hope to put many, many more miles in with Big Denny in the coming years. So, here we are, on the ferry crossing to Whidby Island, at the start of our day. That's Big Denny on the left (with his new bike in the background) and me with my trusty Road King in front and on the right.
