Road King Blog

Tis the late spring, when Plecia nearctica’s fancy turns to love. Known colloquially as the Love Bug, this omnipresent fly plagues Florida in late May and in September. They get their name from the habit of attaching to one another during their mating seasons and then flying about in tandem. The larger female tows the male around randomly until they manage to find a convenient windshield to splatter on like tiny fireworks.

After they sit for an hour or so, they become quite sticky, and are a royal pain in the tail to remove from windscreens, headlights, passing lights, turn signals, forks, boots, crash bars, etc.

Oh, and helmets. Makes me very, very glad I wear a full-face lid.

To make an already fun situation even more enjoyable, dried love bugs stink. Just a little added bonus for the task of removing them.

I just think of it as the small price we pay for year-round riding.

Rode to the Florida National Cemetery in Bushnell for a Patriot Guard Riders mission.  About 100 miles each way, give or take.

About 20 of us showed up from all parts of Floirda to honor a soldier at his memorial.  It doesn’t matter what war or wars he fought in, all that matters is that he was a man who stood for his country.  And the PGR was proud to stand for him at his family’s request.

I arrived in the area a bit early, and stopped into Steak and Shake for a quick bite before riding the last 20 miles to the cemetery.  The cemetery itself is a large, lush plot of land, immaculately maintained by the staff and a cadre of volunteers.  It is a truly beautiful place.

I arrived and located one of the PGR riders near the welcome center, a gentleman by the name of Terry.  Terry pointed me in the direction of the staging area, and I headed over and parked in a line of bikes.  After a while waiting and shooting the breeze while more riders trickled in, we held a quick briefing and rode en masse from the staging area to the location of the memorial service.  Located throughout the FNC are memorial pavilions where final services are held for the departed service member.  It was here that we formed a flag line, lining both sides of the walkway from the roadside to the pavilion.  A military honor guard arrived for the service, and we waited quietly for the casket and family to arrive.

We remained standing in quiet respect along the walkway as the procession moved from the roadside to the pavilion, the only sounds being the click of the honor guards’ shoes on the concrete and the slight rustle  Florida breeze fluffed the American flags we each carried.  We remained alongside the walkway through the brief service, which culminated with a rifle salute and the traditional playing of taps on a lone bugle.  The family then returned to their vehicles, with the soldier’s son and wife stopping along the walkway to thank each of us individually for being there.  When the wife got to my, she took my hand and thanked me for honoring her husband by coming.  I told her that the honor was mine, and thanked her for inviting us.

As I packed up to depart for the ride home, Terry come over to me and handed me a pin.  This was my first funeral detail with the PGR (which the PGR fittingly calls Honor Missions), and PGR tradition is that a member is given a pin on completion of their first Honor Mission.  I’ll treasure it always, as a memento of fellowship with these fine men and women, united for a great cause.