We lost a good one this weekend.
My friend Greg passed away on Saturday afternoon on Squaw Pass Road. He was leading a group from the Denver Eurotrash Motorcycle Club down the road and coming into a blind switchback corner, hit a car head on. The car was over the double yellow line while passing a bicyclist.
Greg was killed instantly from the impact.
Greg was a very accomplished motorcyclist. He, like all of us, liked to have the spirited ride but he always knew his limitations and never rode on the ragged edge on the street.
He was also simply a good human being. Between bikes and wanted to ride? Greg was always the first to offer up one of his. Need advice? Greg was always there. Just needed an ear when it seemed no one else would listen? Greg was always happy to be that ear.
He had a passion for motorcycles. He loved watching races both in person and on TV.
He and his wife spent several weeks last summer in Italy going to races and visiting those places most of us only dream of some day visiting.
I last rode with him last year at Ducati in the Rockies. We spent Saturday together. The first couple of hours in the morning, we had a much slower rider with us and Greg pulled over, waited for him to catch up and then called some other riders to meet up with us that were going to be riding at a pace that was much more what this other rider was used to.
Once the other group caught up to us, we sent them on their way and went on ours.
Our pace was pretty quick but it was also well within what both of us were capable of. We stopped for lunch in Pagosa Springs and talked about the mundane. I got to know him better and am very thankful for the short time that I was able to call him my friend.
I last spoke to him on Thursday afternoon. I wanted some advice on a seat for my Multistrada and knew that he had been through a few so I wanted to pick his brain. He asked about my wife and kids and we chatted about other, far less important things. We ended the conversation by promising each other that we would have to ride together again soon.
Greg is survived by his wife and best friend of 30 years, Izzy. Another amazing soul in her own right. My heart is absolutely broken for her.
As I have tried to come to grips with Greg's loss, I wonder when the tears will come. I keep telling myself that I am still numb. That the tears will come in their own time. But I am not being honest with myself. I don't know if the tears will ever come. Not because I don't care for Greg. But because of the opposite. He died doing something he loved. Something that he had a passion for. He died showing others the way. And to that, I say we all should be so lucky. To die doing what one loves is to die truly happy.
We all have asked ourselves that question..."What would I do if I only had 6 months to live?"
I would be on my bike every waking hour. I would ride until the very end just like Greg. I would blast through heaven's gates in a third gear power wheelie, all while laughing into my helmet.
We all take risks every day. Us who ride, know that. We calculate our risk with our reward and then strap on our gear and throw a leg over our trusty steeds. We know that it can end at any time. But we don't let that stop us from living our lives and doing that which we love.
I miss you terribly Greg. You are one that I will always and truly consider a friend. But I will hold on to the hope that some day we will meet again and that you are up there now, scouting out the great rides for the rest of us.
RIP my friend.