When I was 13 years old, my parents divorced. A difficult life for the family was made more so. To help out, I asked the owner of the Texaco Gas Station near our house if I could work for him. He paid me a $1 per hour to pump gas, clean windows, detail cars, and change tires. He told me years later that he hired me because I was an altar boy and the only kid in the neighborhood who could add and subtract in his head. Apparently, my predecessors had trouble getting the right amount of money into the cash register for various reasons.
I gave the money I made at the Texaco to my Mother to help out. It was not much, but it was all that I could do. My father was an Air Force Master Sergeant. We lived in a blue-collar neighborhood where the Dads were either in the military or worked at the General Motors plant. The Mothers ran everything, usually had more than three kids, and always had plenty of work. People sat on the front porch when the weather was nice and talked. Kids knew to come home when the street lights turned on.
My Mother knew I missed my father. She also knew I was fixated on a motorcycle for sale across the street. It was a 1973 Yamaha 100 MX dirt bike. Every day when I walked home from work, I would look at it.
One day, she handed me an envelope, and in it was every dollar I had given her. She told me in her lovely French accent to go across the street and buy that "motorcycle thing" and "to be careful riding it."
I remember looking at the envelope and her. I told her these five things:
I loved her with all my heart and soul
I would always work hard and never honte à la famille (bring shame to the family)
I would do whatever was necessary to help her and my brothers for the rest of my life, just like she helped me
I would follow the teachings of the Holy Church and find a way to go to college so I could make more money
I would find mentors who could teach me what I needed to know about riding and maintaining motorcycles
That last commitment is what led me to the CB1100 Forum. 49 years later, I have honored each commitment.
For all the Mothers who bore us and for those patient spouses who also tolerate our love of motorcycles, Happy Mother's Day.