There's only two rules for joining the 6th Street Geriatric Motorcycle Crew. First off, both your hips have to be real. Second, you have to love going to church. Yep, that's right. Speaking of church, about a month before my neighbor Walter died, a few of us hog-riding old-timers were sitting around trying to impress each other. I said, "Walter, do you know I haven't missed a day of church in 30 years?" Of course he looked up with a wry smile and said, "Jerry, that's a pretty good track record. Now, what were you doing with all that time when you weren't in church? I hope you were being a true Christian then, too." Of course, Walter's gone now, which means of the original motorcycle crew, it's just me and my neighbor Mitchell left. Without Walter, getting ready for our annual road trip just wasn't the same. We moped around for a bit, trying to figure out how to ride like banshees, all the while honoring Walter's memory. But after a while an idea came to us: if Walter were here riding with us, what kind of road trip would he want to do? Well, soon enough we started to figure it out.

You know, we've been doing this trip every year for the last two decades. And I'd say this year we traveled fewer miles than we ever have before, but one thing I learned this time is that sometimes it's the quality of the miles, not the quantity, that counts. You know, we miss old Walter, and I still go to church every single week. But when I'm not at church, I try to remember what he said that night: "What were you doing with all that time when you weren't in church?"