My friend Mike was an avid Harley (HD) rider and had been riding since before I was out of grade school. When I met him he was in his mid to late 50s. It was in North Georgia on a weekend ride up to the Cherokee reservation in NC. Mike was a large, heavily muscled and lean older man who looked fit, yet built like a Georgia Oak tree, not an ounce of fat. He was a charming Southerner and very courteous when we met at a gas stop. So we pulled up and both grabbed a coffee and began to talk.
Mike was a Vietnam vet and was in Special Forces "deep recon" for 2 tours. I was in the process of rebuilding my 1984 FXRS HD and putting a hot-road S&S motor and new tranny in it. Mike wanted to help. We both lived near each other in North Georgia. He was very knowledgeable about HD mechanics and had a plethora of friends where I could swap parts and build the custom I was trying to complete. Over the next 10 years we became steadfast friends and rode often (Bike Week a few times and Biketoberfest a few times plus a Key West ride). We even rode together the West to East 3 AM "Mad Run" across Alligator Alley and the Seminole (Big Cypress) Reservation and the Everglades (a really good future story forthcoming on this one).
Mike told me stories that would curl anyone's hair from his Vietnam days, he was clearly still haunted, but kept it at bay and functioned as well as any of us. He had a job, worked out almost daily and loved to ride, seemed sane enough, and occasionally would get drunk and rant a little - who doesn't?!. He showed me his 3 purple hearts, 2 bronze, and one sliver star he had earned - all in combat. This guy was a hero in my 30 year old mind. The Special Forces "Deep-Recon" would go out with a 3 man team and return two to four weeks later with recon info. (# of tanks, heavy equipment, troops, movements etc.) this was before satellites and aerial imagery was not as sophisticated by today's standards and yielded little useful information. Never in 2 tours did all 3 come back. They were intelligence gatherers and had to go undetected, have complete radio silence until done, thus only up close and personal 'silent kills' were allowed. The enemy had listening devices on the parameters of their troop's camps. So Mike told me the ones who lived had learned how to move into position by mimicking the sound of a rabbit foraging and jumping at night so they would not be discovered when creeping closer to the encampments - to gather information. Oh the stories he told me over the years...
There was a bunch of us that had formed an informal "HD club" (we swapped HD parts and hung out occasionally at one of the "wrench's garages") to share mechanical information on all our respective in progress projects. We decided to go to an ABATE Bike sponsored Camping trip and Protest Rally. We would camp 30 miles west of Atlanta near the interstate, ride in tandem formation to Atlanta to the very front of the the State Capitol Building without helmets on, and listen to speeches in protest to the Georgia mandatory helmet law. I am a "REAL" Libertarian at heart and feel strongly (still do BTW) that such laws infringe on our personal liberties as private citizens - are wrong. I always wear a helmet however, but do NOT agree with the government's right to tell us not to. Only when an action endangers others or are a public safety issue - are laws legitimate. Not wearing a helmet does not harm others on the roads next to motorcyclists. In contrast - being drunk and driving does. Those laws I feel are legitimate. So about 5 of us decided to join the 3000+ bikers for the ride. The Georgia State Patrol was going to escort us down the interstate and had blocked off traffic to the state capitol, where speeches would be given and a few state representatives would announce their support to change the mandatory helmet law.
The night before the police-escorted ride we went to the campground early. It had a lot of trees and a small lake with camp sites all around it. ABATE had built a big stage for music and such, and had signs set-up, and ride instructions/fliers for that night's activities and the grouping-up instructions for the group ride to Atlanta. We set-up and got a good spot among some beautiful Georgia Pines and a few old Oak trees.
Mike said he was checking the place out and left while the three of us remaining went and found some firewood for the night. Bikers started arriving by the hundreds and the place began to fill up. Most were HD riders, but not all. I always liked the HD rallies because they were more fun. By 10 PM there was always wet-T-Shirt contests, live music, slow-mow and burn-out contests. These guys knew how to party! And of course adult beverages were abundant. Everyone was lingering about meeting each other. Everyone except Mike!
We noticed that as dusk fell, Mike was no where to be found. Being a large man and built like a tree trunk, he was hard to miss. His bike was still where he left it, his hastily set tent was empty, and his belongings remained untouched. We set out in different directions to locate Mike, and make sure he was okay. An hour later we returned without any Mike sightings and started our fire. We had made friends with a group of 10 or 20 bikers next to us from Dahlonega, GA. and we started to hang.
The bands started to play, the Wet-T-shirt contests commenced, and the fun was in full swing. Still
no sign of Mike as it got to midnight. There was about 2000 of us camping there, the entire campground was awake and indulging in various activities until 2 or 3 AM. Around 1 AM a mud track was formed and rat bikes started dragging through the mud in contests - bets were placed! If you have never seen a mud rat bike drag race before, well you haven't lived! Our group had made several inquiries around the campground throughout the night as to Mike's whereabouts or any sightings of him. No luck so far. Mike was still MIA. About 2 AM I decided to make one more round to find Mike. I walked around for about an hour. As I was walking towards our area, one of the group from Dahlonega grabbed me and said, "Hey man isn't that the guy you are looking for in the big Oak tree way up there"? He pointed about 45 feet up a very old Oak tree and there in the branch was Mike. Sleeping like a Cheshire Cat out of Through the Looking Glass. Mike was literally 45 to 50 feet up sitting in a tree on a large limb, fast asleep. He had taken his belt off and had somehow strapped himself to the trunk of the tree so he wouldn't fall. Knowing Mike's Vietnam history. I decided the best course of action was to do,,, nothing!! I showed our group where he was and we all hoped for the best come day break.
At 7 AM the bikes started to line up for the ride to the State Capital in Atlanta. We picked up our tents, but noticed Mike was no longer in his perch! Nor was he anywhere near his tent, and his bike remained unmoved. The ride started at 9:30 AM. More bikes who didn't camp were pulling into the camp ground and lining up. No one around us had seen Mike descend the tree!
About 9 Am, here comes Mike with a scantily clad, well endowed good looking blond girl hanging off of one of his big arms! He had a smile on his face, and greeted all of us as if everything was normal. His "Velcro-Girl" was introduced and Mike started pulling up his tent. We made the ride to Atlanta with our police escort, the local news stations were there. Mike rode tandem to me with Velcro-Girl clinging to him on the back of his HD. She wasn't the brightest light on a Christmas tree, but she made good TV. That night (as we were in the front of the pack when the speeches were made on the steps of the capitol building) was a 10 second clip on the local newscast, and there was Mike, me, and Velcro-Girl! I heard about it ... A LOT the next day at work. Many of my work mates had seen me on TV, and all of them wanted to know who the bikini clad girl was!
Later that week. I asked Mike about what happened, and he said, "Flashbacks had hit him bad from Nam. He didn't remember much until that beautiful girl spoke sweetly to him as the sun was rising from the base of the tree, and he silently climbed down the tree and introduced himself"!!
Moral of the story is that,, I NEVER, EVER AGAIN went camping with Special Forces Recon. Vietnam Vet!
Mike and I remain dear friends to this day. My daughter calls him, "Uncle Mike"!