From the time I moved to Ohio I complained a great deal about not being able to get good Italian food or a decent hotdog since I left N.Y. A couple of my brothers were pretty sick and tired of hearing me bitch so they informed me that we were taking a hotdog run to N.Y. I immediately contacted George and told him what was up. He said that he would handle everything. He also said, “I have a surprise for you.”

On Father’s day week-end four of us (Me, Canary, Beebee, and Jeffro) saddled up and rode to Cohocton, N.Y. just south of Rochester. From West Central Ohio it’s an all day ride. It was getting dark as we rode over the wet crusher run that was the road up the mountain side to where George lived. Even over the thunder of our bikes I could hear George screaming at us to get a move on.

The five of us went through roughly 8 lbs. of hotdogs and 5 cases of beer around the campfire that night. It was a special night for a few reasons. George was always my best friend. But our times together were scattered over the years. Canary was like the best friend of the last half of my life. You can’t imagine how cool it was to sit back away from the fire and listen to my two dearest friends, who had never met, tell their tales about me; one from the first half of my life and the other from the last half of my life. Tears welled up in my eyes as I felt the blessing of having such great brothers in my life.

Beebee was 22 years old and a newcomer to hangin’ out with me, Canary, and Jeffro. He wanted to make the ride because he wanted to say he had visited all the Great Lakes. But there was so much more to him than we could’ve guessed. That “story night” around the campfire revealed that BB was once a sickly child with a slim chance of living a healthy life. Doctors had said he wouldn’t live beyond the age of 18.  I don’t remember what his initial diagnosis was but this kid was 6’2” and 230 lbs of muscle. Anyway, his ride was a pristine 74 Electra Glide. When he was diagnosed at 12 years of age he begged his dad for this motorcycle he found in some old lady’s barn. I know, it’s one of those stories you’d find difficult to swallow. But it’s a true story nonetheless. BB spent 10 years working on that bike and he swore it’s what healed him and gave him hope. I said 10 years, right? Yep, the hotdog run to N.Y. was that motorcycles maiden voyage. All of us were just elated to be able to share that with BB, let alone take him for a ride around Lake Ontario.

Nothing I can say can truly express the joy that hotdog run brought to me. And, I was vindicated for bitching about hotdogs in Ohio. They all agreed I had truly been missing out. There’s still George’s so-called surprise he had for me but I’ll save that for the next chapter.

George Chapter 4 Lucille