The Idea and the Inspiration; Scotty's Ride

In a previous post, I mentioned Scotty and I becoming friends following an invitation to stay in our home should he be so inclined to ride up from South Carolina for Memorial Day weekend and Rolling Thunder. As the famed weekend drew near, we had a few conversations regarding his ride up, what to expect from the weekend, etc., but nothing more... Beyond that we were largely strangers joined through a common bond... Riding...

Sara, my wife, has known the Dudleys since she was a young girl. Growing up the daughter of a Marine Corps aviator herself, those circles ran pretty tight. But I didn't know Scotty from Adam, and as fate would have it, Memorial Day weekend 2004, Sara was heading out to a Bachelorette weekend in Dewey Beach, DE. So despite Scotty and I not knowing one another all that well, we were bound to get to know one another by the end of the weekend!

As it turned out, the weekend couldn't have gone any better... Scotty and I rode all over Virginia and Maryland, making our way out through Leesburg, VA, Point of Rocks, Rockville, and Bethesda, MD, then back across the bridge to Virginia and Washington DC. We hit a couple of Harley shops as all the Harley dealers in the DC area are having some kind of open house over this weekend, then stopped off at a biker bar in Annadale for a beer. After relaxing with a beer or two, we made our way into DC to walk around Thunder Alley; The quasi biker bizarre set up year over year on 24th Street NW. I remember the weather being perfect despite the phenomenon that are the 17 year Cicadas... You know, those clumsy, loud, annoying, gigantic bugs that, when struck on a motorcycle doing 70 mph, actually explode with a thunderous "POP!" Yeah, those... Anyhow, following the stroll through Thunder Alley, it was time for another beer and a bite to eat. What better place to go than the Old Ebbitt Grill? The place is a Washington institution and surely would be buzzing on this weekend.

Coincidentally this Memorial Day weekend in our Nation's capital was also playing host to the grand opening of the newly completed World War II Memorial; A dedication long over due... As Scotty and I saddled up at the bar in Old Ebbitt's "Corner Bar", we noticed a number of elderly men and women all wearing traditional military dress from an era long ago. In fact, these men and women were veterans of the great war, and earlier in the day they were honored at the dedication ceremony for the memorial. No sooner had we sat down, they were moving toward Scotty and thanking him for his service to our great nation. You see at the time, Scotty was wearing his military ribbons on his riding vest, and these amazing people from the greatest generation were clamoring to show their respect to a man they recognized immediately as a retired Colonel, USMC. Of course, Scotty returned the pleasantries thanking these men and women for their own service, and showing great appreciation and empathy, struck up A conversation the likes of which I will never hear again. Stories of duty, valor, and friends and loved ones lost. It's not often I'm speechless or have nothing to contribute to a conversation, but in this moment I could only sit and listen in total awe and complete admiration. The conversation only lasted maybe 30 minutes, but it's a memory I will never forget.

I explain all of this as a way to better paint the picture of how this friendship was born. Having never served a day in the service, a most unusual place for a Gen X'er like myself to be sitting is along side a decorated war hero, officer, and a gentleman like Scotty Dudley. Yet here I sat. And despite the differences in our backgrounds, we unequivocally recognize one another as true friends.

Only a few months following Rolling Thunder, Sara and I received the news that Scotty was diagnosed with Cancer. Specifically Squamous Cell Carcinoma. Doctors discovered the disease in his neck and throat, and the initial prognosis was anything but positive. Though this being his third bout with Cancer, Scotty was no stranger to it's treatment and elected to have both chemotherapy and radiation at the same time in an effort to combat the disease. We kept in touch via email and the occasional phone call, but the treatments started to take a toll and before long, Scott lost the ability to speak and was barely strong enough to punch keys on a computer.

As with every Thanksgiving, Sara and I made our annual pilgrimage to Beaufort, SC to visit with her family and the many friends we've made there over the years. Though one of the first stops we would make would be to the Dudley's home. Now, Sara and I were warned as to what we should expect, but there's just no way to prepare yourself for something like this... When last I saw Scotty, only 6 months prior, he was as strong as any 56 year old man could be. This time would be far different...

Scotty had lost over 40 lbs and every hair on his head. He had third degree burns and open sores on the back of his neck as a result of the radiation, and further, was unable to even swallow spit let alone eat or drink. He was being fed intravenously through a tube attached to a backpack that looked a lot like what a runner or a cyclist would use when running a race. He was frail. Yet here he is, meeting us and welcoming us into his home, front and center, a huge grin across his face! His spirits were high despite the state of things, and he was optimistic for a full recovery.

Though Scotty had lost the ability to speak, he carried with him a small pad of paper and a pen, and would jot down whatever he was thinking... Darlene filled us in on all the details, next steps, and the newest prognosis. Scotty had his good days and his bad days, but he was getting by. Then out of the corner of my eye, I see him standing over by the garage door waving at me to follow him into the garage... I slipped out to the garage with Scott and he jots down on his note pad... "I need you to take my bike out." Obviously an effort to get some oil through the motor and even out the flat spots on the tires... Needless to say, I gleefully obliged. I rode the bike out to Brickyard Point on Lady's Island, turned her around and brought her back. Scotty stood in the garage, beaming. Somehow, we both knew he'd ride again.

Not one month later, things took a turn for the worse. Scotty's immune system was so broken down from the treatment, he'd contracted a flu like bug common in livestock which, under normal circumstances, is incommunicable to people. His health had deteriorated so badly, the Doctors were left no choice but to place him in a medically induced coma... The procedure was supposed to be just long enough to fight the bug, then they'd bring him out. Only trouble was, they couldn't bring him out... What was supposed to be a week turned into much longer, and family were told to expect the worst. My In-Laws called Sara to let us know of the Doctor's dreadful estimation, and when she told me the news, I was truly crushed. Despite this, I refused to believe he couldn't beat it and I found myself doing something no longer familiar to me... I found myself praying...

For days I awaited any word of what would become of my friend. Then, a few weeks later, Scotty was awake! The stubborn son-of-a-bitch came out of it! Though even this miraculous news wasn't without consequence. It seems while Scotty was under he suffered some kind of stroke or some other neurological damage which left him partially paralyzed in his left hand, leg, and foot. So on the one hand the cancer was in remission... Great news! On the other, the long road of rehab awaiting Scotty got much longer, and there was a great deal of uncertainty as to whether or not he could fully function again, let alone ride a bike.

Months later, 50 lbs heavier and with a full head of hair, Scott still struggled with his range of motion in his hand but more, in his foot. Still, with the resolve and determination of a hungry lion stalking its prey, Scotty was going to ride again. He kept up with his rehab, sold the hopped up Deuce, and went after something he knew he could ride... A Road King. With the King's heel / toe shifter, Scott figured he could determine where to drop his heel in order to upshift the bike, and damned if he wasn't riding again! Three years later, Scotty was back in Northern Virginia staying with Sara and I for Memorial Day and Rolling Thunder, and once again we rode.

While Scotty was up for Rolling Thunder last year, he was introduced to a whole new cast of characters I've been riding with. Tuna, Mechanic Mike, Sarah and Charles... Friends all. We attended the Boozefighters hotel party at the Highlander Hotel in Arlington. We rode to Rolling Thunder downtown, parked the bikes, watched the parade route... It was an absolutely perfect weather weekend throughout the entire affair... Following the Rolling Thunder rally, as has become custom since we last rode with Scotty, the whole damn crew rolled back to Tuna's house for a Memorial Day BBQ.

Devin and Tuna have a great house with a large outdoor patio area for just such events. The patio is immaculately kept and decorated, part of which are the many signs that hang all along the fencing. One of those signs reads, "Live life like it's the two minute warning". Scotty saw this, read it aloud, and said, "Hell, I guess I'm living life like it's in Overtime!" Hence the name "Overtime".

It was during this BBQ when Scotty said to me and Nelson, "We should try and figure out a way to do this thing all the way... You know, ride across country?" Little did we know, he was already planning to do it, whether we were along or not... After all, life is fleeting and nobody knows that more than him... Regardless, we kicked around the idea over beers and BBQ and decided, at the very least, we'd give it some serious thought.

The following day, Scott was back at our place gearing up his bike and getting ready for the ride back to South Carolina... I was more or less just sitting and drinking a beer, engaging in casual conversation, when Scott sat down and started to talk to me about making the run cross country. Suddenly I realized how serious he was about this thing, and he told me quite candidly how much it would mean to him if I could make the ride. Considering everything the man had gone through, to be standing in my garage and even having this discussion was enough for me to realize I have to find a way to make this happen, and from that moment on, I was in.

And so, while we honor America's fallen sons and daughters with our ride from coast to coast, it's Scotty "Overtime" Dudley to whom we owe our thanks. For it was Overtime, and the trials behind earning that name, who we have to thank for the inspiration to make this great ride.

Scotty, thanks for being the catalyst to what promises to be one of the most memorable experiences any of us will ever be apart of...

ATW '08