Rollin'

Rollin' For The Founder:
The Ninth Annual Kemp Memorial Run

by Colorado T. Sky
Someone Who Was There

Memorial runs; we've all been on 'em.

They're kind of a bitch sometimes 'cause the one we're riding for is no longer with us and, consequently, isn't really riding with us, as they don't have their bike in our pack, herd or respectable formation ('cause we've ridden in all those combinations, too!). On the other hand, memorial runs provide a certain spiritual comfort to those of us riding along: the Dearly Departed may not have their bike in the procession but, when we do it right, we can feel them "riding" right along with us, keepin' us company as we honor their memory. Or maybe just makin' sure that we don't screw up too badly.

Here at Indian Lookout, our year begins with our Memorial Run for Kemp O'Connell, the founder of our event, who took that Long Last Offramp back in '94, nine years ago this weekend. He left too soon, too young, with too much left undone, but his vision has become a reality, and a legacy.

Staff Meeting Sunday, after the speeches, the bands and the updates on the changes from last year, when all the packing's been packed and the "see you next months" have been said, the Staffers who made the run fell into the customary column of twos and rolled out. This year offered a great day for it, as opposed to last year (remember the snow?), when a few loyal and dedicated but borderline-insane Staffers turned out and made the run under what started out as some pretty weird weather but, by the time we got to the small plot on North Kelly Road, had turned into a chilly but beautiful day.
The warmth in that small group that day had little to do with the weather.

This year the turnout was bigger, but still a bit sparse (considering that we've got over six hundred Staffers). Still, we know how it is. As much as we all wish that Indian Lookout Country Club could provide full-time employment - in their respective fields of expertise - to all our Staffers (along with a generous benefit package), we understand our Staffers have to make their daily bread elsewhere. Even Mr. P. has a day job in a carpet store, so we know what it means to have to blow off a day's work or some other commitment. Sometimes we get a little stuck when two unrelated events fall on the same weekend and we have to decide which to make.

This decision is never easy, but this one run really needs to be "made;" this is the run commemorating the life, the dream and the vision of the man whose insight, courage and enthusiasm not only led to the establishment of this event, but have been passed as a legacy to those of us who now staff this event. Were it not for his commitment, his courage and his almost prophetic vision of what the Rendezvous and its "family" would become, none of us would be here at all and this magnificent country club of ours would likely be a pig farm or a yuppie subdivision.

I was there not just because I owe the man, but because I love the man.

This year's run was a blast (as always... they're always different, but they're always great). Leaving Indian Lookout right around eleven, the procession - two limos, about forty bikes, and the cars, vans and pickups in the back - wove its way through the pastoral New York countryside and up onto the high road, stopping first at Jumpin' Jack's perennial carhop drive-in. This is not only a great place to get a great bite, and not only one of the few surviving classic drive-ins from the heydey of drive-ins, but a particular favorite of Kemp's. This was the last place he had gone, his last "outing," before his illness finally claimed him. It's not exactly like sharing a meal with him, but it's as close as we're gonna get for a while.

Next stop was the Sawmill Tavern, another favorite of Kemp's and a favorite of many other riders in the neighborhood (if the Panhead motor mounted between the taps hadn't been a dead giveaway, and the bike hanging from the ceiling was kind of a clue, too). The company was warmly entertained, well-fed and offered the hospitality of their spacious "rear deck" for a few moments' relaxation before rolling onward.

"Onward" led the procession to the Blue Jay Saloon for another short interlude and another short refreshment break and, once all were rested and refreshed, it was back on the road for the last leg of the ride. We had eaten where he had eaten, drunk where he had drunk and were now on the way to where he finally lay. The roads were fairly clear, the procession stretched out like an iron rainbow, and the breeze was filled with the smell of promise and possibility.

Still, we held our collective breath and scanned the sky for signs of snow.

Finally, at the small plot in Fairview Cemetery in Princetown, and before the comments, remembrances, and the words of the proverbial poet, came the most touching moment of the run; the presentation of a flowered cross at the freshly-mown, well-tended plot by five of the youngest members of the Rendezvous family. Alyssa and Ashley Potter, Alex and Paul "III" Lambert and Jonathan Goff, all very dignified, all third-generation attendees, all under four feet tall and all paying tribute to a man whose dream and vision they share despite the fact that they will never know him. Kemp had died years before any of them were born, but they share in his dream and his reality, and he occupies a well-deserved place in their future.

It is said that the sins of the fathers are visited upon the sons. That being the case, it stands to reason the good deeds, the inspiration, the faith and works of the elders, the founders, the senior and long-term Staffers - all those who come early and stay late to mow, to mend, to manage the myriad details involved in a Rendezvous, and to feed and fuel The Spirit That Never Dies - will live on and will form the foundation for a future that we all, from the oldest to the youngest, can be proud of.

Memorial runs do serve to provide a bit of spiritual comfort, but they also have a more profound function: by recalling the life's work of those we remember, we are urged to make our lives as important to the future as they have.

They remind us that we need to be worthy of our destiny.

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