Goodbye, John

During my trip to San Francisco, I found out that John McGuinness, a friend of mine whom I hadn't seen for a number of years, was killed riding his motorcycle. I met John while working as a counselor at a summer camp in Northern California. Then, as in the tributes I've read about him, he was smart, funny, generous, and caring. He had an irrepressible smile and was great with the kids he counseled -- I think John was one of the best summer camp counselors I ever worked with. Above all, he was a unique and wonderful person, he carried this through all the days of his life.

John died in early September -- September 11th precisely, riding to work. Like many motorcyclists, he was splitting lanes due to slow traffic -- in most states motorcyclists are allowed to do this because if you don't, the bike will overheat. It can be done safely, but there is a degree of chance. You're hoping the automobiles ahead of you are paying attention as you approach them, and they won't do anything crazy like pull towards you as you pass, or even throw a cup of coffee in your face because they're pissed you're on a motorcycle and somehow winning a contest on who can get through traffic faster. Eventually through riding and close calls, all motorcyclists get to know one certainty: anybody can crash. If you're lucky, you'll be around to crash more than once.

I had a motorcycle accident. Too much speed around a blind corner to find a tight turn ahead. My braking put the bike into a shimmy. I was thrown off the front like a spear, landed on my helmet, saw the asphalt grinding past my face shield inches from my eyes as I slid on my head. The motorcycle was damaged enough to be a total loss, I shattered my wrist. For quite awhile I longed to get another motorcycle -- motorcycles are as fun as they can be dangerous. But when I heard that John was killed -- John who has ridden motorcycles constantly his whole life -- I realized that I'm never going to ride again. If John can get killed on a bike, I don't stand a chance.

Living near Chicago, in Illinois, a state that doesn't have a helmet law, every time I see a motorcyclist out on the road without a helmet, in cut-off jeans, no jacket and flip-flops, I get a chill up my spine. This was before I knew about John's accident, John who rode smart and with the right gear and the proper helmet. Now when I see someone doing something stupid like this -- riding without any safety gear whatsoever, with no conception of what it would be like to fly off the bike and hit the asphalt at 50 miles per hour, I think I might cry.

But one of John's co-workers summed it up, saying, "I feel that John, with his energetic, forward-looking nature would not want us to brood too long, but to send him our most loving thoughts." So John McGuinness, I'll miss you, I send to you and your family all my love, and like the song goes:

We'll meet again
Don't know where
Don't know when
But I know we'll meet again
Some sunny day....

------------------

Dedicated to John Edward McGuinness
December 14, 1963 - September 11, 2008