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If I ride a motorcycle I understand the risk of death is always very near. It’s part of the equation. If I am alive, I understand the same. There is no death without life, and there is no life without death. As I near the age of retirement, voluntary or forced, I also understand I face the prospect of living another 30 or 40 years, but into what state? Into what ability to function. How much mobility? How much onset of disease, and slow malfunction. It is better to many to do it like taking off a bandage. All at once. One fell swope. I saw the recent rider missing story. It was almost impossible to find him out in the rural areas. And some mentioned the story of Big Red. She was 40, and had a boyfriend/fiancé with whom she lived. She had returned to college to get things in order, but maybe had an argument with him one morning. So rode off on her motorcycle and wasn’t seen again. A search began, posters were printed and circulated, and roads were combed for any sign of an accident. She had a favorite 20 mile stretch of the coast just north of San Francisco. Finally, a young man who had found a helmet and gloves by the side of the road came to the police and said he knew now they were from the missing rider. He led the police to a point know as High Point about 800 feet above the sea, straight down. He indicated where he had found the helmet. Still nothing was seen. The police had to go to the beach and found the motorcycle there and the rider up 400 feet, caught on some rocks and small trees. She had been there about 5 days.
What a way to go. She placed the helmet and gloves as a marker and went. For a date with eternity.
I keep thinking so much of it.
May she rest in peace. dc
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