The rest of the crew arrived shortly thereafter and we headed off to the American Legion, Post 106, in Sharon. We rolled into the mass gathering and were directed by Danno to park over by his bike, as we’d be taking up positions at the front, behind his lead. Setting our kickstands into the dirt, we began making the rounds, exchanging handshakes and bear hugs to those we hadn’t seen for a while. Turnout was good – the previous year brought roughly 130+ bikes out…this year, with the better weather and word of mouth, it looked like we were going to top out much higher than that. (I think the final count was about 175 or so.)
Registration was handled very well and things went very smoothly. They were even handing out flags to those that hadn’t been able to line one up of their own. This ensured that each and every bike would be proudly displaying colors for the run. The parking lot was awash with sunlight glinting off of chrome, and flags flying fast in the breezes.
The departure time came and was met with the roar of bikes coming to life. Final checks were made, thumbs-up were given and the State Police escort eased us out onto the roadways. (Having a full police escort for the entire run allowed us to slide though a multitude of intersections without interruption, and that doesn’t suck.) The streets were lined with folks who cheered us on – some waved, some clapped, some stood solemnly at attention as we passed.
I tried snapping a couple of pics using my side mirror…but I guess I should have cleaned it ahead of time… 
The pic I shot over my head, of the crew behind me, came out pretty good… 
We wound our way over into Canton and took a very-slow pass by the Veterans Memorial there, then we meandered our way through Norwood, Westwood, Medfield, Millis, Medway, Franklin, Wrentham, Foxboro and back to Sharon for the cookout.
Once we were all settled back at the Legion, the throngs set to lining up for either beer or food…(one guess which line I became a part of)… 
Beer! But before we could help ourselves to the frothy libations, we had to purchase tickets…ok, this should hold me for a while… 
We ate to our hearts content, we talked about the ride and how well it had gone off, we played some horseshoes, we laughed at each others jokes, and some of us took home some pretty cool door prizes. So far, the day couldn’t have gone much better, all things considered. 
When it was time to mosey along (hours later), we put a plan together to have the crew over to the house for a fire and more cookout- and margaritas. With our plan laid out before us, we broke off, each heading in our own directions; the crew opting to go exchange two wheels for four, and Brother Bill and I heading to the store for more grub to sacrifice to the BBQ gods.
We got back to the house just as the crew began arriving at the homestead. The grille was fired up, the fire was stocked and started and the blenders were set into motion. We ended that Saturday just as any day should be ended; together with friends.
The reason for the day’s events sucks – the loss of a brave Marine, who died far away from his home and family. But his sacrifice is something that we are all eternally grateful for, and we thank his family and we honor his memory. 
Ride Hard, Take Chances. And Support The Troops!
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