This is not a letter of self pity or self indulgence, but something for you to think about the next time you turn your back on a close friend because you simply don't understand or haven't the guts to ask what's happening to them.
It's been months since I last tried to ride my outfit, it's amazing how hard it is to face-up to the fact that selling your pride and joy is the only option now. It's just too awkward and painful to ride, since the multiple sclerosis has hit me harder than ever before. My four year-old son asks if I can take him out just one more time before the bike goes. Well of course I'll do my best, but no promises. With much trepidation we pull out of our road onto the main drag. We are soon out of the madness and onto those old familiar back roads that we've ridden so many times before.
We head east on the B2147 to Chichester. It's a wonderful afternoon, one that will always be remembered by both of us for the rest of our lives. After a while we turn off, for the green lanes, which will take us to Harting Hill. This is a place of extreme tranquillity and natural beauty, set in the Southdowns, twenty-five miles north of Portsmouth. It's a place where I have always ended up when I've been down for one reason or another, or just to put the world to rights.
We park up and get the usual dirty biker looks from the snobby upper class cagers walking their pampered mutts, but that don't bother us today, because today's special. This is our last ride. My son sits on the grass and picks the wild flowers as he always does and I sit and reflect on the future and just what it holds for us. My thoughts turn to all the good times I've had in the past twenty years, the rallies, the parties, the good times, the bad times, the good friends, some who are long departed from this world to a better place, free from pain and suffering of this world.
My thoughts turn to anger and frustration at those who were once close brothers and sisters, but now avoid me like the plague due to their own ignorance and lack of understanding. These are people that I have bent over backwards to help in the past, both lawfully and unlawfully. If you don't understand something, just ask, it won't hurt. My son asks if we can go for another ride now, as it's been over two hours since we set off down the Marden Valley, back towards the coast and eventually home.
My two wheeled day are now over, but in the near future my trike will be finished and I will be back where I belong, with good people who understand what it's like to be disabled, and who know the difficulties of trying to carry on with what you love most in the world. I have learnt to make the most of whatever I can still do, and to live for today and not dwell on or yearn for yesterday.
Through writing this I have put all my bitterness behind me, and just hope that you will never fall by the side of the road, because when the shit hits the fan you can count your true friends on one hand.
REMEMBER, NOBODY KNOWS WHAT THE FUTURE HOLDS.