Brotherly Love and Loss

I lost a brother last night. We shared no blood, we weren’t stepbrothers, not related by marriage. But if any man could truly be called a “brother from another mother”, it was him. He was the kind of person who was always there for you, whether it was to have fun, or to listen to your troubles or to help you out. His last name was Jones, and we called him Big Jones. Physically, he was a huge SOB, it’s true. He got tagged with the name for obvious reasons. However, if you were ever around him, you knew that his presence far exceeded his physical size. He walked into a room, or hell – into a bike rally, and you just KNEW he was there, even if you didn’t hear him speak with that naturally loud, booming voice he had. But he was THERE.

He was a Sergeant At Arms for his chapter of our club, and I know good and well he was capable of carrying out the less pleasant functions of that office, but he always projected a happy, smiling face. The funny thing is that with his size, he could have easily been intimidating if he wanted to, but I never saw him try to be. Matter of fact, once you got to know him, which didn’t take long, you stopped noticing that he was so big. You just saw the smile. Big smile – you never stopped noticing that. He was a happy man who wanted everyone around him to be happy, too.

If you were lucky enough to get to know him, you loved him. Period. End of story. He became part of your family. His family was your family. His door was open to you simply for the asking. He and his wife Stephanie once handed over their house to me, my infant daughter and her mother when my wee one got overheated and sick while camping at a bike rally. They stayed at the rally, but they lived a half hour away, and they just took us to the house and trusted us with their home; no questions asked. Big heart – you always knew that about Big Jones, too.

I’ve spent the day in pain, hurting, crying with the loss of a beloved brother taken from this world far too soon. But I’ve also smiled, remembering good times, fun times, and always that big fucking smile, and his voice saying “How YOU doin’!?” or “What ha’ happent wuz……” Or the times that his work related travels brought him to Austin, and he’d text a lot of us to invite us to meet him at Twin Peaks for happy hour. Which he’d usually end up paying for. I really hate it that he did that a couple weeks ago and I couldn't make it because I was at work. Funny the things you don't think about at the time that you regret later.

The one solace I take is that he went out doing something he loved doing: riding.  At least he got that. I only hope that when my time comes, I can go in a similar way.

This should remind us, and of course it does, like all unexpected deaths do, not to take life for granted. Not to take those we care about for granted. Take the time to really appreciate what you have. Appreciate the people in your life – don’t just say you love them, take the time to feel that love, and to tell them what you feel. I don’t mean to sound all mushy and touchy-feely, but seriously – what’s wrong with telling someone that? If you love someone, then they’re your family in some way, and since when is it wrong to tell your family you love them?

Jeff “Big Jones” Jones. Devoted husband, loving father, dedicated Gypsy, beloved brother-from-another-mother to so many. My brother, I raise my glass to you and wish you well on your transfer to the Forever Chapter of Gypsy MC. I’m honored to have known you and to have been your brother.

I love you and will miss you.

GBNF (Gone  But Never Forgotten)

GFFG (Gypsy Forever Forever Gypsy)

LL&R (Love, Loyalty & Respect)

(November 25, 2013)

Plans, parts, and finally: Coffee

If you want to make God laugh, tell him your plans.

I had such a good plan, too. Get up, get dressed, ride some back roads, then head back in to have breakfast and coffee at Waffle House. Nope. Suzi, my Suzuki SV1000, took a dump on those plans.

Six hours later, I'm finally having my first cup of coffee of the day.

Bad news: The stator's shot.

Good news: I got a good deal on the part, and it should be here in a week.


Better news: Brotherhood. I called a brother, waking him up, and he and his lady came out and gave me a jump start, followed me home, and he spent hours with me, checking the charging system. It only cost me a trip to Jack In The Box, and he didn't even want me to pay for that. Actually, he did all the work, since I don't know anything about electrical systems, other than they have one lever: Leave 'er alone.*

It sucks when things fall apart, but knowing you're never alone, well... that's brotherhood. 

And it makes the coffee taste even better.



It wound up raining, anyway.


*Credit for the "leave 'er alone" comment goes to my brother, Dennis "Trippple Nippple" Cole, who went on the Forever Chapter in 2005. R.I.P. my brother. GBNF, GFFG

MC member stickers

Anticipation

I just finished packing my clothes and camping gear. Tomorrow, I'll work half a day, come home and have lunch with my Other Half and Baby Girl and load up my bike. Then some brothers and a sister will show up at my place, and we'll hit the road - off to our club's annual members-only, mandatory attendance, club birthday run, fondly referred to as "Mandatory".


I'm pretty excited: This is our annual Gypsy MC Family Reunion. We're spread out pretty far and wide, so this is the only chance some of us get to see each other all year. Plus, I'm trying to get all my debt paid off, so this is the only out of town event I'm going to this year, so you could say I'm pretty fucking excited.

I'll come back with some pictures, and hopefully inspiration to write more, and maybe even stories to share.

Running With The Pack

Rolling in a pack. Man, it's such a cool feeling. It could just be you and a brother or sister, or it could be dozens riding to a run or a funeral. You get a real feeling of connection with your riding partners. It's hard to describe that to people who don't ride. It may just be impossible to understand until you experience it.

Hell, it can even translate into driving cars and trucks. I remember one time my ex and I were moving. A bunch of the brothers came over in their pickup trucks to help. I was leading the way to the new place in my car, and since we were all driving cages instead of riding, we got separated. However, when I signaled to exit the interstate, I looked in my mirror to make sure everybody saw me, and I'll be damned if every single one of those vehicles, separated by multiple cars, even, didn't move into the exit lane at the. Exact. Same. Time.

Every group, whether a club or just a bunch of friends who ride together a lot, develops a style, and the members of the group learn to almost read each others' thoughts. Gestures and a certain sign language develop that may not mean anything to anyone else, but can convey all kinds of things to the group.

I recently had a couple of experiences riding with brothers that brought home that telepathy that has developed within my own club. I was leaving a gathering and there was one brother who lived in the same direction as me, so of course we rode together. Now, I've never ridden one on one with this man before. We've both been in the same large pack, but never even in a small group together. Yet, when we pulled out onto the street, we fell into a certain rhythm. Hell, I think we were even shifting gears at the same time. You know you're synchronized when you can ride handlebar to handlebar with somebody for the first time and never feel nervous about it. He was riding on the left and I was on his right, and even when he needed to exit the interstate first, it was like we'd rehearsed the shift.

A couple weeks later, four of us had gone out of town and while we were on the highway on the way home, I realized that without even thinking about it, we'd fallen into riding positions that enabled those who needed to exit first to do so without disrupting the pack. The guy in the right rear had his exit first, then the guy in the left rear, etc. We never talked about it or planned it, or hell – even thought about it. We just subconsciously knew where to position ourselves.

Connection.

It's such a good feeling; and those who refuse to ride in a group will just never know what they're missing.