(View from the front yard of The Bunny Bungalow in the Heights)
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The Patriot Guard Riders is a diverse amalgamation of riders from across the nation. We have one thing in common besides motorcycles. We have an unwavering respect for those who risk their very lives for America’s freedom and security. If you share this respect, please join us. We don’t care what you ride, what your political views are, or whether you’re a "hawk" or a "dove". It is not a requirement that you be a veteran. It doesn't matter where you’re from or what your income is. You don’t even have to ride. The only prerequisite is Respect. Our main mission is to attend the funeral services of fallen American heroes as invited guests of the family. Each mission we undertake has two basic objectives.
We accomplish the latter through strictly legal and non-violent means.
To those of you who are currently serving and fighting for the freedoms of others, at home and abroad, please know that we are backing you. We honor and support you with every mission we carry out, and we are praying for a safe return home for all.
Ken Beckmann and his 1994 custom Harley
Everyone knows that in the Houston Heights there are more interesting people per square yard than in any other neighborhood. And there is just something about a quiet guy on a Harley. Tall Husband and I were having breakfast at Dry Creek Cafe in the Heights when we heard the familiar potato-potato-potato sound of a Harley engine, then saw Ken walk in. As I once rode passenger on a Harley from Houston to California and back, I just can't resist eliciting another Harley rider's stories. So I struck up a conversation. It turns out that Ken was born in Copenhagen, Denmark and emigrated to the United States with his parents when he was a child and that his wife rides a "scooter." We hope to meet up with her some Saturday at Dry Creek.
I didn't mention this to Ken but I no longer ride a bike. After a dramatic spill with the Harley on a rainslick, cobblestone hill in San Francisco, I lost my nerve. Besides, mature guys look cool on a bike but somehow we grandmas don't effect an equivalent image. Ah but I have memories and can live vicariously whenever I run into a Ken.
All the Right Stuff!
(Ken is an intelligent man and plans to remain that way: he wears a helmet when he rides. As a therapist who has had numerous patients who rode without helmets, I cringe when I see someone without appropriate head gear.)
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