By JB “Papa” Brostrom, MWAi – Parade Day. This is it. 4:45 AM wheels rolling. Papa arrived at his bike at 4:00 AM. While packing, Lone Star arrived at his. Parking level 3 began to rumble. We both made our way up the levels and out to the hotel entrance. To our surprise GQ’s bike was already there. GQ himself was sprawled out on the lobby couch trying to look GQish. Soon Bert arrived followed by Eagle and Paulie and then Slaw and his buddy Kent. It was still only 4:30. The Pack was full of anticipation. Shortly thereafter Gordito and Paco roared out of the parking structure and into formation. After a couple of last minute checks the Patriots Pack roared out of the Hotel 10 strong. Waiting at the light it occurred to Papa that our directions for the short jaunt to the Pentagon parking lot were: Left, right, left, right, left. Coincidence?
It was still before 5:00am and daybreak had yet to happen. At the entrance to the parking lot we were met with volunteers getting ready to park over 1 million bikes. Currently there were less than 200 in the parking lot. Papa was asked if our group was Rolling Thunder. “Yes”. That’s why we’re all here! As the find young lady pointed us toward the VIP area it occurred to Papa the question was meant to ask if we were Rolling Thunder officials. Just then he hears the lady holler: “Where are their stickers!!” Papa brings the Pack to a halt, looks in his mirror and the lady, who seemed to have aged a few ear with the scowl on her face, was quickly approaching. Papa explains he misunderstood the question and she pointed the Patriots Pack to the left where we immediately headed. Gordito, of course, thought we should have continued this accidental rouse.
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We were expertly lined up behind a group of trikes. There were only about 30 or so bikes/trikes ahead of us. Not bad as were in the first wave of general population that will get started. When the parade starts it will take over an hour for the official bikes to leave the parking lot.
The volunteers that do the parade staging for parking and departing are unimaginably efficient. They’re lead by an east coast gent that was undoubtedly a drill Sargent at one point in his life. This guy walked up and down the 100 plus lines of bikes hollering at his crew to keep lines straight. Hollering at the bikers to get to the right as a new line would keep coming on their left. He hollered and hollered and hollered all morning. At one point, with nothing to holler about he hollered at the bikers that his team was the best damned team of volunteers in the world because there lines were ^$&&ing straight! Parked in our expertly tight and straight lines just before 5:00 AM we dismounted, GOT TO THE RIGHT, and prepared to witness the coming alive of Rolling Thunder. Gordito grabbed his Kohls picnic blanket and headed for the grassy area with the lone shade tree in the entire Pentagon parking facility. We didn’t see him awake until almost 8:30am. Papa changed out of his boots and into, as someone would later call them, tennies. Some of the Pack did the same. The nine still awake gathered to begin experiencing the wonder of Rolling Thunder. Some when to grab coffee from the vendors who were just starting their long day, while others milled around. It didn’t take but about 10 minutes and the bikes had doubled. Soon the trickle became a stream. Ultimately it would become a full on river that would stop until we were at our first gas stop at 2:00 that afternoon.
The Patriots Pack, sans the snoozing Gordito, seemed to re-gather at the bikes. Some with coffee and some with just their thoughts. At the east end of the parking lot is an access road lined, to the east, with a grove of trees blocking the security fence lining the Potomac. Rising above the tree line is the top of the Washington Monument looking very majestic as dawn was breaking. A few photos were taken. The Pack just kind of milled around to soak this all in. Papa headed back to the vendors and then around to the west to see what was up with Gordito. He looked so precious lying on his Hohls special picnic blanket. Many photos were taken as bikes numbering in the 100s soon turned into the 1000s. Papa took his breakfast pastry and headed to his bike for an iPad and Netflix. We are baaaad men.
Some of the Patriots Pack are experiencing Rolling Thunder for the third time, other’s the second and the rest for the first time. Still the most astound aspect of the staging area is the atmosphere. Soon there will be over 1 million bikes, many riding two up. Let’s conservatively say there are 1.2 million people milling around… 1.2 million tired people. Other than the spirited banter of the staging volunteers you will not hear an angry or aggressive word. You will see only polite reverence. You will hear and experience kind and polite behavior. 1.2 million people with a common goal… This is the greatest takeaway of Rolling Thunder.
By now dawn has broken and the crowds are numbering in the 100,000s. Police escorted groups are roaring down the highways lining the parking facility which is quickly filling. It is all orderly and efficient. By 10:00 most of the Pack had had a nap of some sort. Gordito and GQ had run recon on a location for Uber to drop off the posse. No… the posse did not make the early trip. They stayed nestled all snug in their beds and took an Uber later in the morning. Now the recon turned into look out. Gordito had made a deal, imagine that, with Virginia’s finest to a allow Uber to stop on the George Washington Parkway and let the Posse climb the retaining wall into the parking lot. This turned out to be brilliantly successful.
Paco received a text message from the friend he and Papa met in 2013. Kory Michael Thompson. Kory as some may know is a Gold Star Parent. His son Michael was lost in 2008 when he and his helicopter crew were shot down. Back in 2013, by way of destiny, he approached us in a panic looking for directions. We became fast friends and will continue that friendship forever. Kory was back this year and we took the opportunity to set a meeting place for a quick chat. Being a Gold Star parent rightfully gives you a VIP presence and parade slotting as Rolling Thunder. With Kory was a woman he was escorting. The following is an excerpt from Kory’s Facebook page:
“Had the Honor of escorting a Gold Star Daughter today at Rolling Thunder. This young lady lost her Father in helicopter crash in Viet Nam in 1965. He succumbed to his injuries after crashing during a 5 hour firefight. Sure hope she remembers my name and friends me here on facebook. She was 4 years old when she lost her Father.“
Kory is an example of what is right about America.
Soon there were Secret Service looking SUV’s crawling through the crowd. Presumptive Republican nominee Donald Trump was rumored to join the event. Quickly we discovered Mr. Trump would be speaking later from the Lincoln Memorial. The security vehicles were for Madame Secretary of the Navy. She would be there for the short ceremony to start the parade. There was a spirited version of the National Anthem. Whoever was the performer gave it everything he had. He was followed by an invocation that was, again, spirited. The preacher thought to metion every one of the military branches eliciting proud grunts and u-rahs from the many military in this group now approaching a million strong.
Standing up on the grassy area gazing at this sea of humanity and Harley the question occurred to us; how many of this group would be “packing”? This would be one hell of a militia!
It was finally time to make our way to the bikes. If you wait until the parade begins you will never make it through the throngs. It will still be 90 minutes before we fire up the bikes but it is time to stage ourselves. The heat was beginning to be a factor because clouds were scarce. Hydration was key. Walking up and down the isles, numbering over 100 bikes, is smooth. Walking perpendicular is a bit like pin ball as the bikes are so close front to back. It was necessary for most to visit Don’s Johns one last time. In an effort to keep everyone healthy the drill Sargent from earlier had crews walking the isles with water and vendors with Gatorade for purchase. It truly is a most efficient event given the vast numbers.
Anticipation builds as the rows and rows of bikes are let out into the parade line. As soon as our portion of the parade ends the Patriots Pack will be heading in three directions. Slaw, Kent and their posse will head north to Rochester NY. The rest of the Patriots Pack will head west to Gainesville, VA before splitting into two groups. Papa long with GQ, Lone Star and their posse will head south while Bert, Eagle, Paulie along with Gordito, Paco and their posse will head west into West Virginia.
Shortly after 1:00pm we fire up the engines and fall into the parade formation. As soon as you rise up out of the parking facility and onto George Washington Parkway you are met with throngs of people lining the roadway offering their appreciation for your support. The parade makes its way she short distance to the exit for Arlington National Cemetery / George Washington Memorial Bridge. We turn right, cross the Potomac and head into DC. Already we are slapping hands with spectators and feeling the rushes of adrenaline and emotion from the experience. As we approach the back the Lincoln Memorial we veer left and head down the side street toward Constitution Avenue. The intersection of 33rd Street and Constitution is traditionally stands the lone Marine in salute for hours honoring his fallen brother as well as the parade riders. This year we were treated with his new bride standing with him in her wedding dress. Ladies and gentlemen… that is commitment!
We turn right and head up Constitution Avenue. Both sides of the street lined with appreciative crowds. It is difficult to create the imagery with words. It happens too fast and there are too many very personal connections made in the instant as you make eye contact with someone in the crowd and then immediately break that contact and focus on the road. The contact may be broken but the connections last a lifetime.
We again turn right on 3rd Street and pass in front of the Capital on our left. Right again on Independence Avenue and head back toward the Potomac. From the time we began at the Pentagon staging area to the time we complete the run down Independence Avenue only 15 minutes has passed. Ten days on the road, eight hours in the Pentagon staging area for a 15-minute run… and yes we would do it again tomorrow if asked. Being able to accomplish what we did with the Jillian Fund along the way make it doubly special. We will forever have George Gorman’s words and the faces of the thousands burned into our memories.
Epilog:
The New York contingent peeled off immediately. The rest of us merged onto I 66 and headed west. We encountered mild traffic until we were beyond the DC metro area. We exited for gas and goodbyes in Gainesville, VA. Gordito lead the way west while GQ led the rest of us south.
Gordito reported later the scenic route through West Virginia’s mountains might have been a bit too scenic. Perhaps we will report the stories, as they are collected.
Both groups will travel on this Memorial Day with wonderful memories and connections. We will also navigate our first real taste of unfriendly riding weather.
Peace out!
