Tuesday I was part of the few, the proud, among 420+ motorcycles escorting the ‘The Wall That Heals’ to the wonderful Civil War city of Apalachicola, FL, where the Chattahoochee and Flint Rivers empty into the Gulf of Mexico. The Moving Wall – one of four that circulate the USA – is the half-size replica of the Washington, DC Vietnam Veterans Memorial, and this was to be the first time out of D.C. for this very Wall – brand new, having just been dedicated in early April.
What an experience to take part in this memorable occasion. Riders came on this very warm day from all over; up from coastal cities, close-by Florida capital Tallahassee, down from anywhere and everywhere in Georgia, likewise Alabama, gathering in spots here & there to finally at the jumping off place near Marianna, FL.
There were full-bore American Cruisers, European road machines, Japanese Sportbikes, a few with sidecars, trikes of all kinds, off road machines and dualsport rides, but the majority were the big iron of Harley Davidson and all ridden by both men and women.
Straight south from I10 and Marianna, bonafide County Sheriffs’ Patrol cars lead while four Vietnam Vets formed the lead escort followed immediately by the 18-wheeler Simi-truck containing the Wall, all others then in trail making an endless line of bikes as far as the eye could see. Two-by-two, down across the country-side, police blocked traffic at all intersections and busy side-roads while we ran all stop lights to the joy of many.
Honeysuckle, that arching, twining vine or shrub, native to northwest Florida, was the scent of the day as we cruised close to the speed limits, all the while Spring and green was everywhere. In the little hamlets of Oakdale, Sink Creek, Chipola Park, Honeyville, and White City, the folks watched as if witnessing a sudden and unannounced funeral – stopping to wave, salute, simply stare, wave their flag, or palm across their heart, while the cities of Altha, Blountstown, Wewa, Port St. Joe, and final city of Apalachicola turned out in mass. Churches were represented by the large personnel on their grounds, all schools were recessed – the hoards and hoards of children, all ages, lined both sides of the roads to touch a hand, wave a flag, see these motorcycles cruise through the middle of their streets. Business men and women came out from their buildings, county workmen lined up shoulder to shoulder, the cities fire fighters hung large US flags across the roads high up connected by their respective trucks ladders while police officers stood at attention, signs of God Bless and Thank You were everywhere, and in Port St. Joe, where the highway made a ninety-degree southeast turn, stood a haunting, saluting, magnificently white fully uniformed towns person, stoic as a statute, oblivious to the heat or the time it took for eight miles of bikes to pass. Shot pangs through your heart! Further down on Long Street the procession passed a Vets Rest home where they and Staff were loudly cheering and waving more signs, then the St. Joe High School – home of the proud Sharks – where yours truly refereed many a foot ball game. From there it was the short twenty-three mile jaunt on into Apalachicola, the ceremony, lunch, and general ride camaraderie. Wonderful event. A privilege to participate.
NOTE (from wwc): I know… this has nothing to do with the Civil War, but Jay is a long-time Campaigner and has written a wonderful story about The Wall.
