The Answer to Why....

In the summer of 1975, I was 15 years old and had graduated from riding mini-bikes to full sized motorcycles. I loved riding so much that I decided someday I would own my own bike and take a cross-country motorcycle trip. But as I grew older that dream just became a part of my childhood and life moved on.

After graduating college I followed another dream and became a police officer. During the hiring process I was lucky to meet Margie and made a lifetime friend. We discovered that we enjoyed working together and taking vacations together. One adventure took us to New York for a long weekend in 1996. With so little time we tried to cram in everything Manhattan had to offer, and sleep was at the bottom of our list. A co-worker who was from New York had told us that if we needed anything, even just a question answered, to contact any NYPD officer, I.D. ourselves and they will be happy to help.

We did as he suggested one night to learn where to eat and were able to enjoy a nice dinner that night. Then we found ourselves in need of advice about the Twin Towers. We were there at the World Trade Center and running late as we had gotten lost. We went into the Port Authority office there on-site to ask what we should see or do, and get some direction to make the most out of the time we had left.

Instead the desk sergeant asked us to wait a few minutes and he would have an officer help us. Our only expectation was the hope of receiving some insight. Instead we were escorted across the grounds and the building, directly into the elevator and to the top floor, where we were told to enjoy the rest of our trip as the officer left. We were amazed and grateful for such hospitality.

And it was something we never forgot. So when the terrorist attacks occurred on September 11, 2001, we thought of that desk sergeant, the officer who escorted us, and all of the officers we saw during that trip. We also realized we would never know if those who had been so kind and hospitable were safe. In our haste and sleep deprived state we had failed to get their names. Guilt was added to the many emotions we felt that day.

By April 2004, I was 44 years old and had been a police officer for 21 years, and had incurred some permanent injuries. Although my husband had a bike between my injuries and having a five year old I had no thoughts of riding myself. Luckily for me, my husband didn't want to take the solo seat off his Harley and forced me to take the motorcycle safety class and get my own. I had been very hesitant but by the end of those three days I was again in love with riding, just as I had been as a young girl, and was chomping at the bit to get my '04 Sportster 1200 Custom the following weekend.

In August I took my oldest daughter to Virginia to start college. Along the way, like any good Harley owner, I stopped at the dealership in the Shenandoah Valley. It was there I saw a flyer for the America's 9/11 Foundation Memorial Ride (www.americas911foundation.org), a ride commemorating all of the Emergency Service workers who lost their lives on 9/11/01. It was a three day ride to the three crash sites. It was then that I knew this was something I had to do, something that would allow me a way to pay my respects and honor those officers I had met almost a decade before.

Life then took a few unexpected turns in 2005, and I found myself as a single parent again. By 2007, only 4400 miles had been put on my bike. But I had somehow found another Harley-riding single mom in my small town and we began spending our childless time riding and talking about things we wanted to do. We both decided so much had passed us by that we wanted to live by the motto Carpe Diem (“seize the day”).

I told her about the 9/11 Memorial Ride and how much it would mean to me as an officer and someone who had been shown professional courtesy by NYPD and the NY Port Authority. She offered to join me and said we should ride our own bikes. This brought back that long lost dream and we decided it was something we would do, but that it would have to wait for a few more years.

A couple of weeks later I realized I couldn't wait until we had the time and money for a cross country ride. I called my friend and made it clear I was going alone if need be, but I was going and using the H.O.G. Fly N Ride. She said to count her in. I sold my Sporty and took over payments on my ex's ’05 Road King, which had all of 974 miles on it, and prepared for the ride.

We completed our first 9/11 Ride in August 2007. After the emotional impact I experienced I knew I would do it again. We planned a 2008 trip and cancelled at the last minute, but were able to do the ride again in 2009. It was during that time I decided 2010 would be the year for the cross country trip. On the day I returned home I informed my son and my ex that I would be gone all of August 2010. I decided that there was no amount of pain that I would have to endure that could ever compare to the pain, suffering and loss of life that the police officers, firefighters and paramedics experienced on that fateful day, and that it was the least I could do to honor their memories.

I also decided it would be a ride filled with symbolism. At the age of 50 I would use it to fulfill that childhood dream and celebrate retirement. My friend would turn 40 during our ride. We decided we would visit the 70th Sturgis Motorcycle Rally along the way, a first for us both. And because the first 9/11 Foundation ride was in November of 2001, this would be the 10th Ride made. With all of that I deemed this trip to be the "Ride of the Decades".

And now here it is August 2010, and I will again attend and participate - but on my own bike. And really, this is where my story begins. It is here I will chronicle my 27 day journey to celebrate milestones, to celebrate dreams fulfilled, to celebrate life, and mostly to honor lives lost by men and women who courageously fulfilled their duty with honor, integrity, compassion and dedication to the public they swore to serve and protect. Men and women who ran toward disaster as everyone else attempted to escape it. May no one ever forget the innocent lives lost or the sacrifices made by those humble civil servants on that day. I know I never will.

The Ride Begins August 5th