Ghosts

I always stop in to visit with old friends when I pass through, although it was difficult when I first started doing so. This time it’s been at least half a lifetime since I saw them last. We had great times together. One even saved my life on a bright sunny day years ago, so I have much to thank him for. That was my best friend. Others I was not so close to, but they were very good friends too.

We partied hard and fast and furious when we were growing up, to the dismay of some in our crowd of friends, and to the chagrin of some of the hometown girls we dated. We never listened, mostly going our own way and finally getting out of town and away from the madness of it all. It was hard keeping track after that, scattered as we were.

They’re not hard to find now, since I know the exact spot to ride to to see each one of them one more time. All of them came finally to rest in a quiet, green, treed cemetery just west of town. It overlooks a pretty green valley and the small factory town where we all grew up – although I must admit I was the newcomer, not having been born there.

Bob, Stan, Vern, Dale. One by aircraft, one by car, one by motorcycle, one by ill health. All taken over a short time span, some within a couple of days of each other.

I remember them as though it were yesterday, and I trust that I am not the only one to visit with old friends and reminisce. I’ll be returning this way later in the summer, but I’ll only ride by and wave for I fear that too much remembering is not good for one’s soul.

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