CB1100 Monthly Photo Challenge

[pdedse]

Often when on mc trips, I'll take my lunch to either a park or a cemetary; the former to watch kids play and see the next generation, the latter to remind myself that life is short. I'll read the names on the headstones, the born / died years and say "hello" to those who have passed. I like to imagine what their lives were like, what they would tell me if they could. I find it relaxing and makes me feel lucky to be alive...so many headstones with folks who died really young.

It has been a great monthly photo challenge topic.

[Gone in 60]

Wow Ferret, what a tragic story. My Mom was the office manager for her company’s California branch when I was younger and managed corporate travel for the company nationwide. She booked a number of employees on the United flight that made the crash landing in Sioux City Iowa. I was away from home for military training when it happened, and when I got home, my Step-Dad admonished me not to bring it up with Mom. It’s something the family never discussed.

But in typical fashion, I do have a quirky fun story to change the mood about she subject that’s along the same lines.

In the 90s when I was an ad guy for Petersen Publishing, we were a young, carefree bunch. Translated, we partied and drank a lot.

I took the Metrolink train from my home in Orange to L.A. most days (I didn’t ride back then). One evening after work, we went on a bender at some clubs along the Sunset Strip. I staggered to the last train to OC and passed out as soon as I got home… failing to feed Linus and Lucky, my two cats.


I was awakened at 5am by Linus, smacking my face for breakfast. I got up and fed them both. As long as I was already up, I decided to take an early train in and have a big hangover breakfast at a diner near the office.

I got to the office around the usual time, and my coworkers were lined up at the door asking if I was OK and hugging me. I was as quite confused until someone turned up the news on the radio. Seems my usual Metrolink collided with a freight train in Fullerton. There were several injuries but, if memory serves, no fatalities.

I explained what had happened and that I took an earlier train. From that point on, coworkers who knew him dubbed my cat Linus the Savior.

[the Ferret]

Yea you'd think that avoiding a tragic life claiming event would make one thankful, but he always said they were his team mates and he should have been with them. The guilt consumed him. The brain is a strange thing, and how it processes things is unexplainable.

[Gone in 60]

Yea you'd think that avoiding a tragic life claiming event would make one thankful, but he always said they were his team mates and he should have been with them. The guilt consumed him. The brain is a strange thing, and how it processes things is unexplainable.

I’d think that being part of a sports team would make a very tight-knit group. A feeling of guilt over relief or thankfulness would be understandable, thinking about people he no doubt cared a great deal for.

And the way the brain processes a stressful event is a mystery indeed. I was just chatting over the weekend with old coworkers. We reminisced about George… someone in the group moved once and we all pitched in to help. George put the mattress in the back of his pickup truck. When we all got to the new place, the mattress was gone.

None of us in the convoy of helpers saw the mattress blow out of his truck. George was convinced that the mattress must have blown out, landed on the freeway and caused a huge accident. We went back along the same route and no mattress, no accident.

Still, he couldn’t be convinced that nothing bad happened and guilt consumed him. He sold his truck, tore up his license and never drove again.

… the reason most of us remembered the story is because from then on, one of us would have to go pick him up and bring him to work

[Nachodaddy]

From 1980 until 1984, I was stationed at Vandenberg Air Force Base, California. Vandenberg is on the coast between Lompoc and the beach and we had a huge and very active motorcycle club at that time, called the "Iron Horse." We took many long rides of very large groups around that part of the country. One of our members was in a sky-diving club and sometimes had to chose between riding or diving. On one of those occasions, our ride passed close to the small airport where his sky-diving club jumped from the same day. He chose to go riding, but dropped by the airport on the way home from our ride. When he got to the airport, he learned the plane he was supposed to jump from had crashed and all his friends died, but his decision to ride with us, instead of jump, spared him.