I am sitting here at my Mothers house, waiting for the mortuary to arrive and pick up my Father. He passed away peacefully this evening at age 80, after suffering from 4 years of brain cancer and the ensuing surgery, radiation treatments, etc. Luckily he was without pain thru almost all of this trauma. In-home Hospice care was Wonderful! These people are truly saints and I cannot fathom how they can remain so cheerful and caring while dealing with all the awful that death brings.
He retired as a Chief Master Sargent in the U.S.A.F. for 27 years (1951-1978) as a jet-aircraft mechanic in the Tactical Air Command (TAC). Started off on F-84F's, then F-86's, F-100's, RB-66's and finally his (& my favorite aircraft of all time) the mighty F-4 Phantom II. After retirement, he worked for Rockwell International in Palmdale, CA on the assembly line helping to build every single B-1B in existence. Then off to Tracor/BAE Systems in Mojave, CA turning his old fighters in Target Drones for the USAF. He finally retired for good at the age of 70, spending 51 years in the military & aviation industry.
He introduced me to my life-long passion of motorcycling, starting when I was 6 years old. I have not been without a motorcycle for the past 46 years. Dad started off on Whizzer motorbikes back in the 1940's, cobbled together from whatever scraps they had around the farm in rural Georgia. They were dirt-poor, but never knew it according to dad.
After basic training at Lackland, and tech school at Sheppard AFB, Texas he was assigned to RAF Wethersfield, England. Did he have a car, nope. He found, and rebuilt a 50cc BSA motorbike - the largest displacement motorcycle he was allowed as a lowly E-3 - Airman First Class (Dad graduated first in his class, so he got promoted right away compared to everyone else). Back then the size of the motorcycle you could operate was dictated by the Squadron Commander - and it was based on your age & rank! Try that now!
He met, who would turn out to be my Mom, while riding his BSA. Shortly before they were married in 1955, and after being promoted to E-5 - Staff Sargent, Dad obtained permission to buy a 650cc bike. His eyes were set on a BSA Golden Flash! But many deployments to France (we actually had USAF bases in France at one time), Turkey and North Africa and then children got in the way of his dream.
He rekindled his motorcycle spirit when I was 6, first with a mini-bike powered by the ubiquitous Briggs & Stratton. This morphed into a 90cc Suzuki 2-stroke of some kind (I cannot remember), then a Honda CL70, finally ending up with a Red 1982 Yamaha 550 Seca. I had progressed thru a Suzuki TS-250, Honda CB450, Yamaha RD400, some Husky race bikes and finally at that time a beautiful 1980 Honda CB750F Super Sport.
Dad and I rode all over the place, exploring back roads throughout the high desert of California. When I graduated from College in 1983, I quit my job at the motorcycle shop and we took off on our bikes and spent the entire summer riding all around the country, bypassing interstates as much as possible with the goal of arriving at his mother home in Plant City, Florida. It was a joyous trip, and we met so many nice, friendly folks, especially those in the small farming communities of the Mid-West.
I started my career, moved away, got married, had children and we rode together less and less. I miss that. Alot. Finally when Dad turned 72, he hung up his helmet for the good. He sold his bike.
He never did buy the BSA Golden Flash. I would like to think he is riding it now, without a care in the world.
Happy riding Dad.
He retired as a Chief Master Sargent in the U.S.A.F. for 27 years (1951-1978) as a jet-aircraft mechanic in the Tactical Air Command (TAC). Started off on F-84F's, then F-86's, F-100's, RB-66's and finally his (& my favorite aircraft of all time) the mighty F-4 Phantom II. After retirement, he worked for Rockwell International in Palmdale, CA on the assembly line helping to build every single B-1B in existence. Then off to Tracor/BAE Systems in Mojave, CA turning his old fighters in Target Drones for the USAF. He finally retired for good at the age of 70, spending 51 years in the military & aviation industry.
He introduced me to my life-long passion of motorcycling, starting when I was 6 years old. I have not been without a motorcycle for the past 46 years. Dad started off on Whizzer motorbikes back in the 1940's, cobbled together from whatever scraps they had around the farm in rural Georgia. They were dirt-poor, but never knew it according to dad.
After basic training at Lackland, and tech school at Sheppard AFB, Texas he was assigned to RAF Wethersfield, England. Did he have a car, nope. He found, and rebuilt a 50cc BSA motorbike - the largest displacement motorcycle he was allowed as a lowly E-3 - Airman First Class (Dad graduated first in his class, so he got promoted right away compared to everyone else). Back then the size of the motorcycle you could operate was dictated by the Squadron Commander - and it was based on your age & rank! Try that now!
He met, who would turn out to be my Mom, while riding his BSA. Shortly before they were married in 1955, and after being promoted to E-5 - Staff Sargent, Dad obtained permission to buy a 650cc bike. His eyes were set on a BSA Golden Flash! But many deployments to France (we actually had USAF bases in France at one time), Turkey and North Africa and then children got in the way of his dream.
He rekindled his motorcycle spirit when I was 6, first with a mini-bike powered by the ubiquitous Briggs & Stratton. This morphed into a 90cc Suzuki 2-stroke of some kind (I cannot remember), then a Honda CL70, finally ending up with a Red 1982 Yamaha 550 Seca. I had progressed thru a Suzuki TS-250, Honda CB450, Yamaha RD400, some Husky race bikes and finally at that time a beautiful 1980 Honda CB750F Super Sport.
Dad and I rode all over the place, exploring back roads throughout the high desert of California. When I graduated from College in 1983, I quit my job at the motorcycle shop and we took off on our bikes and spent the entire summer riding all around the country, bypassing interstates as much as possible with the goal of arriving at his mother home in Plant City, Florida. It was a joyous trip, and we met so many nice, friendly folks, especially those in the small farming communities of the Mid-West.
I started my career, moved away, got married, had children and we rode together less and less. I miss that. Alot. Finally when Dad turned 72, he hung up his helmet for the good. He sold his bike.
He never did buy the BSA Golden Flash. I would like to think he is riding it now, without a care in the world.
Happy riding Dad.
