A friend of ours died a few weeks ago. He was a part of the motorcycle group we ride with regularly, but his death had nothing to do with motorcycles. His loss is felt deeply by the group.

Motorcyclists are a motley crew. While people often think of the old Hell’s Angels, out causing trouble and up to no good, the reality is that most of us are average everyday good citizens. We are engineers, accountants, IT specialists, and in the case of our dearly departed friend, a pilot for a major airline.

The experiences we share — the love of a great ride, the discovery of a fun road, the latest bike someone buys, an out-of-the-way diner that becomes the weekly ritual — these are the things that bind us. Our friendships extend  beyond the regular Sunday ride and the few annual trips that take us further from home for a long weekend. We become friends. We count on each other. We stand by each other through good times — kids graduating and getting jobs, grandchildren being born, retirements, new marriages. And we turn to each other in bad times, like the death of our friend.

A number of us attended his funeral. We mourned his loss as a group, and then we went out for dinner afterward and toasted him. He was a good man, a kind man, and a hell of a rider. He will be missed.

RIP, Jeff.