Day 285:
Work has got me at my wit's end, Conor. I'm going a million miles an hour with it being the last week of the quarter, but only in spurts. And what I mean is, as soon as anybody needs anything, I get the standing order to "hurry up and wait." I'm tasked with doing things as quickly as humanly possible, and then wait for some sort of a response. Total drag, but at least I'm engaged with the customer. That's more than a lot of guys can say...
With this kind of action a bit of a break is certainly welcome. I got a call from a good friend of mine asking me if we were interested in coming by his house for an impromptu barbecue, and so I decided to load up the family and head over for a bit. The best part of this kind of gathering isn't the food or the great conversation, Conor. No son, it's quite simply the people. Guys with names like Hazard, Joker, Pig-Pen, Maverick, Dodger, Mean-Bean, Cougar, Pretty Boy, Tin-Man, Bullet, and Indian. Salt of the Earth men who would give you absolutely all they had simply for the asking.
The thing about bikers is Conor, they don't judge anyone. These are men and women who live on the fringe of society, and they live there comfortably. They do whatever makes them happy and aren't interested in being questioned about it. They're both free spirited and patriotic. They're both tough and they're kind. They're genuine, and that's what I've always been attracted to in so far as my association with them. And while I may not ride as much or as often as many of them, I would ride my motorcycle anywhere in the World with them given the chance...
Yes sir, it was a good night to be out and enjoying a bit of company to take my mind off the many troubles of the day. And of course, they all loved seeing you, Boy'O, and can't wait to see you again...
I love you, Conor.
-Dad
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