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ON THE FRONT LINES with Freak |
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ON THE ROAD WITH... FREAK 3rd ANNUAL ILLINOIS FREEDOM RUNChicago, Illinois – 6/18/05
Returning home from work to find 80 people getting rowdy in your front yard is not the kind of situation normal folks handle too well. But now that just about every alcoholic south of I-80 knows where I live, it’s a semi-regular occurrence that I’ve just come to accept.
I rolled up to find the keg already tapped and my barn-fridge sporting a wide variety of booze, so I hauled a dozen skids out of the corncrib, stacked them in burn pit, and fired up the stereo to get the party rolling. We hung by the fire shooting the shit till 1:30 before finally crashing out, for 5am would be here soon. All hands surrounded the coffee trailer down at the Joliet Speedway by 6am, trying to shake off the night before. Tracy and I were in charge of putting up the sponsor boards and the ever-present Will County winds made it royal pain in the ass. I’d secured Wayne Messmer, the man who sings the National Anthem for The Chicago Wolves and used to sing for the Blackhawks at the old Chicago Stadium, while the crowd screamed trying to drown him out, to do “God Bless America” to kick off the 50 mile run down to Marseilles. Meeting Wayne at the gate, getting him to stage in time to sing and then back on the road to Marseilles ahead of the pack would be my next job, which ended up going down without a hitch. First bike out was at ten sharp and a rather orderly procession of some 8,000-10,000 bikes proceeded North on Rt. 53 to I-80 where we opened up the throttles and rolled West under blue skies down to the Seneca exit. State troopers had the ramps along the route closed down and existing traffic was forced into the left lane, so we had the right lane for ourselves which was pretty damn cool. From Seneca, we went south into downtown Marseilles passing hundreds of spectators lining the route waving flags and cheering us on until we reached our destination. The memorial is a wall that stands along the shores of Illinois River bearing the names of the men and women who lost their lives fighting for America in Middle Eastern conflicts. Seeing as troops still fight in regions like Iraq and Afghanistan, some 800 more names were unfortunately added to the wall this year and the day’s ceremonies celebrated those soldiers. A lone hawk circled above as three Marines were presented with the flags for the monument; an American flag for the center pole, a POW/MIA flag for the right pole, and an Illinois flag for the left. With nearly 10,000 people observing, you could hear the pulleys squeaking as the flags were risen first to full mast, then dropped to half mast in honor of the fallen. No one made a sound.
With the new flags flying, Wayne Messmer stepped up and baptized them with a powerful rendition of “The Star Spangled Banner” as four planes flew over in the “Missing Man” formation. An officer from Ohio then performed “Amazing Grace” on the bagpipes followed by a heart-felt version of “Taps”. There wasn’t a dry eye in the house.
I left the ceremony after they read the names of the fallen that would be added to the wall. I was truly bummed out and couldn’t wait to grab a beer. On the main drag, I ran into several hundred people I knew and spent the rest of the day drinking and trading stories until the sun went down. Deciding it was time to go, I roamed back to the side street I’d parked on and headed for home. Along the way I stopped for gas and a much-needed bathroom break, but when I went to fire up my bike it was stone dead. A total ground problem as I had headlights and dash lights but the starter didn’t even grind. Not willing to deal with it, I pushed the bike up a hill into a Walgreens parking lot and push-started the beast down the driveway and was on my way. I rode down to Lockport and finished the night bar-hopping during their “Canal Days” celebration, enjoying the freedoms that an untold amount of soldiers fought and died for both before and during my lifetime. To them and their families, I raise a toast and say… “Thank you!” |
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Friday’s
event was somewhat expected however, seeing as I’d launched into a
drunken tirade during one of the Freedom Run planning meetings at the
Summit V.F.W. hall and invited anyone involved in the event to stop by
for a pre-run bash.