Thursday, April 15, 2010

A Sage Rider

Reed was a desert rat. He loved the desert and he loved desert racing. He was one of the three original founders of the Sage Riders Motorcycle Club.

In the spirit of celebrating his life, his family will be spreading his ashes over his favorite camping spot at Cherry Creek where he used to ride.

Friends and family are welcome to join his wife and children to tell stories from his life around a campfire near Cherry Creek on Friday night, April 23rd. His ashes will be dispersed at noon the following Saturday.

A link to the map to that campsite is in the sidebar of this site. The map will get you close and the dirt roads will be marked with barricades and paper plates to honor Reed's motorcycle and construction backgrounds.

1 comment:

  1. Although Reed had logged in hundreds of hours riding time in the desert with some of the best desert racers of the time, even he admitted that being in the lineup for his first motorcycle race was very intimidating, with the engines roaring from at least 100 bikes. His dear friend, Preston Gerber pulled up next to him, even though Preston would not be racing in this particular race, he wanted to be there for Reed’s first start.

    “I looked to my right and there was a long line of big, salty looking men on big bikes. I looked to my left and there was a long line of dirty, salty looking men on big bikes. I was terrified,” Reed said.

    Preston pointed to a rider named Laddy King and said, “You’ll never beat him, but if you can follow him you’ll do really well. He knows how to pick a good line.”

    The flag dropped and all the riders left Reed in a cloud of dust. Reed was far behind, but he progressively passed one rider after another until he could see Laddy King in the distance. Pretty soon there was nobody between Reed and Laddy. As Reed closed the gap between himself and the leader, he gained confidence in his powerful new bike.

    After a long while of following closely behind the leader, he saw an opportunity to pass him. There was a curve in the trail and Laddy was following the curve of the road. Reed saw the smoke bomb in the distance and knew that if he could pass Laddy here, he would surely win the race.

    Reed decided to cut across the curve to pull ahead to win the race. As he cut across the curve and began to pass Laddy for the lead, he hit a pipe that was hiding in the sage brush sticking straight up about two feet that had been set in concrete in the ground. His bike made a sudden stop, crushing both of his wrists and sending him flying through the air.

    “The last thing I remember was seeing blood splatter all over my pants as I was flying through the air.”

    Reed returned to racing before his wrists were fully rehabilitated. He used bungy cords to affix his hands to his handlebars so that he could make it through an entire endurance race.

    Years later, Nancy was standing at a smoke bomb, waiting for their son, Kevin to finish a race when a man next to her began to talk about the worst wreck he had ever seen. When he finished his description of the gruesome accident, Nancy proudly proclaimed, “That was my husband!”